“Allison, are you really sure you want a divorce? To marry that cripple? Back then, you had two marriage offers—one from Joaquin Davies, the rising star in finance, and the other from Bradley Jensen, a violent, disabled wreck. Marrying Joaquin was the most logical and beneficial choice for you. Are you really going to throw that away now?” my best friend asked.

My pen paused mid-signature as I stared at the divorce papers in front of me. My hand trembled slightly. I let out a bitter smile.

Three years ago, I married Joaquin to pay off my family’s debt. But I quickly learned he had an obsessive cleanliness disorder. He refused to share a bed with me for three whole years—until the night his first love got married. That night, he touched me for the first and only time, venting all his frustration and aggression on me. After that, he never laid a finger on me again.

A week ago, I found out I was pregnant.

The very same day, I was hit by a cargo truck. Both my legs were crushed under its massive wheels.

While I lay on the brink of death in the operating room, hemorrhaging profusely, I called Joaquin ninety eight times.

But he didn’t answer even once.

All I got was a single voice message.

“I’m on a business trip. I’ll be back soon.”

When he did return and saw me just barely recovering, there wasn’t a single word of concern. No questions, no care. Only orders. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a live-in maid.

That night, as I washed his tailored suit in ice-cold water, I found two flight tickets to Las Vegas tucked in the pocket—along with a family photo.

In the picture, my stepsister Cassidy was in Joaquin’s arms, smiling radiantly. They were each holding one of the twin boys, about seven years old.

Then I received a video, sent via an anonymous email. The voice in it was unmistakable—Joaquin’s.

“Brother-in-law, do you think this will hurt my sister?”

“Your sister made mistakes first. I’ll find a way to make it up to her,” Joaquin replied indifferently,

“What about me? And the kids?”

“Don’t worry. The only heirs to my fortune will be my children with you.”

So this whole time, the people I trusted and loved most had been plotting behind my back...

I wiped away my tears and tossed his expensive suit into the dog’s bed.

Taking a deep breath, I made a call.

“Send the helicopter to pick me up in a week.”

I won’t allow anyone to trample me again.

I’ll make sure Joaquin learns who those twins really belong to.

—

I looked down at the divorce agreement again, the paper trembling slightly in my hands. Thinking back on the past three years, it all felt like a cruel joke.

To outsiders, I was Joaquin’s elegant and supportive wife. In reality, I was forced to endure his twisted personality while playing the role of his “perfect assistant.” No one knew that the secretary always by Joaquin’s side was actually his wife of three years.

One week ago, the doctor told me I was pregnant.

The moment I heard those words, tears streamed down my face.

To discover I was carrying a child on our wedding anniversary—it should have been the most beautiful gift.

I rushed out of the hospital and texted Joaquin. Before I could hit send, a truck slammed into me. I collapsed to the ground, and four massive wheels slowly crushed my legs.

The pain was unbearable. I blacked out immediately. When I woke up, I was in surgery. The doctor told me my legs had sustained complex fractures and needed immediate operation.

I couldn’t even think about the baby. I kept calling Joaquin, over and over, until I finally gave up and signed the surgical consent myself.

After the surgery, the doctor quietly informed me: the baby didn’t make it.

I clenched my fists, refusing to cry. The pain in my legs was nothing compared to the one spreading from my chest.

I had waited three long years for this child... and just like that, it was gone.

One week later, I was discharged from the hospital.

The moment I stepped into the house, I received an anonymous email—with a video.

My husband... had been cheating.

I barely had time to finish the footage when Joaquin walked in.

He strode in with long, powerful steps, his handsome face was shadowed with irritation.

“Why are there so many clothes piled up? My suit is custom-made—it has to be hand-washed. Go clean it. I’ve got a client meeting tomorrow.”

Without even glancing at me, he shoved the suit into my arms.

I was still using crutches. Caught off balance, I collapsed onto the icy floor, pain shooting up from my abdomen.

I tilted my head back, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. The overwhelming scent of gardenia from his body made me nauseous.

There were still faint red marks on his neck. Through the open collar, I could see the scratches trailing across his toned back.

He didn’t even bother to hide it anymore, did he?

I said nothing. I silently took the suit and turned to leave. It didn’t matter. I would be gone in seven days.

But then something fell out of his pocket—two Las Vegas flight tickets, and that photo.

Joaquin, with my stepsister. Arms wrapped around each other, and a pair of twin boys between them.

So while I was crushed under the wheels of a truck, he was on a luxury trip with Cassidy.

While I was fighting for my life in surgery, they were popping champagne.

While I was mourning the child I lost... they were living like a perfect happy family.

My child died without ever being known. And the people who betrayed me flaunted their happiness in my face.

I gritted my teeth and stuffed the suit into the dog’s bed.

Upstairs, I found Joaquin just stepping out of the shower.

I turned my back to him, pretending to tidy up. He suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, and whispered in my ear, “Arch your back. Stick out your ass.”

I struggled to escape his grip. He raised his brow and sighed.

“You’ve been working hard lately. From now on, let the maid handle the chores.”

“I brought you some perfume from my business trip. Want to try it?”

He casually pulled a bottle from his bag. The red marks on his back were even more obvious now, flushed from the hot water.

He shoved the perfume into my hand and pushed me onto the bed.

My injured leg hit the edge of the mattress. I cried out in pain, frowning as I tried to push him away.

He looked at me, puzzled.

“I... I’m not feeling well today,” I said, trying to steady my trembling voice.

He didn’t press the matter. Instead, he handed me a glass of milk.

For a moment, I almost believed he could play the role of a loving husband forever.

At 3 a.m., his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He got dressed quickly and left without a word.

Sometimes the quietest goodbyes were the real ones.

The next day, I reviewed every line of the divorce agreement and resignation letter one more time.

Suddenly, I heard Joaquin’s voice from behind me.

“Allison, what are you looking at?”

I took a deep breath and turned around, handing him the two documents. “Please sign here. These are—”

“You were told not to bring work home. Where’s your professionalism?” Joaquin’s voice was sharp, clearly annoyed. Still, he picked up the pen. Just as he was about to sign, his phone rang.

Without a second glance, he tossed the papers to the floor.

I knelt down, struggling to gather them. Just then, he turned around and kicked me hard in the lower abdomen.

I was knocked flat on my back.

Warm liquid trickled down the inside of my thighs. I curled into myself like a wounded shrimp, trembling from the pain.

His foot came down again—this time on my injured leg.

“How could you be so vicious?!”

The pain shot through my body like lightning. He squatted down in front of me and violently grabbed my chin.

“Tell me—what did you do with my children?”

I coughed, gasping under the pressure of his tightening grip. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. What children?”

“Stop pretending! My twins! You kidnapped them just because I took them out for a trip, didn’t you?!”

I shook my head desperately. “No... it wasn’t me. I swear, I don’t know anything...”

That was when he noticed the blood seeping from my leg, staining the floor beneath us. His eyes narrowed dangerously, like a serpent catching the scent of prey.

“A woman as malicious as you deserves punishment.”

Before I could react, he stuffed me into the trunk of his car.

After a long, jarring ride, he dragged me into a bullfighting arena and forced me into a white dress—now stained with fresh blood from my legs and between my thighs.

Smoke billowed across the arena. Two muscular bulls were released into the pit.

I couldn’t even stand properly. My legs throbbed with unbearable pain. I looked at Joaquin with pleading eyes.

“Where did you take my children?” he asked again, cold and detached, like a judge handing down a death sentence.

My body trembled uncontrollably from fear and agony. I stared at the man I had shared a bed with for a thousand nights.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I really don’t know...”

He gave a chilling laugh. “Maybe you're still not scared enough.”

With that, he shoved me straight into the bullring.

The bulls caught sight of the bright red blood on my dress and instantly grew agitated, charging toward me at terrifying speed.

I had no strength to dodge. Their hooves trampled me, over and over again.

From outside the fence, Joaquin watched me with a face of stone.

As one of the bulls raised its hoof high above me, ready to strike again, I closed my eyes, accepting my fate.

And in that moment, the memories of the past three years played like a film reel in my mind.

From the beginning, this was a marriage of convenience.

To save my family, both my stepsister Cassidy and I were given marriage contracts. I reminded myself on the day I married Joaquin that this was nothing more than a transaction.

But deals were never fair.

On our wedding night, he humiliated me brutally—because his heart belonged to a woman overseas, his first love. He married me not for love, but to expand his business empire.

So I played the roles he assigned me—his personal secretary, his live-in maid.

But everything changed the day he learned his beloved first love was getting married. He got drunk and suddenly began to “pursue” me—sending 999 different gifts over 99 days, proposing over and over, lighting up the New York night sky with fireworks on my birthday.

And I let my guard down.

I fell for him.

And now, the price I’m paying was betrayal—and a man who treated my life like it’s worth nothing.

I once thought his first love's marriage meant his heart had finally moved on. I knew I could never have all his love, but I hoped we could still have an ordinary, peaceful life together.

But when did Cassidy start showing up so frequently in our lives?

From the beginning, she didn’t want to marry Bradley. She always ran to my home. She was there for nearly every major moment in my life with Joaquin. At first, I didn’t think much of it—this was a business marriage, after all.

But the truth was: they already had three-year-old twins together.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I remembered his last confession to me.

“Allison, the rest of my love in this lifetime belongs to you. It may not be much—but it’s all I have. And I’ll give it all to you.”

But when I opened my eyes again—he was glaring at me, eyes red with rage, telling me to die.

“Miss, you’ve just had a miscarriage and suffered severe trauma. It’s very likely... you may never be able to have children again.”

The doctor’s voice was soft, full of pity. But his words cut deeper than any scalpel.

I quietly wiped away my tears and turned to the dark window beside me.

I wouldn’t believe another lie.

I wouldn’t fall for another illusion.

Seven days from now, I will begin again.

When I returned home, the familiar scent of gardenia greeted me.

Cassidy was here.

“Brother-in-law, I really wish the four of us could live together like a real family. But... Sister will be upset, won’t she? I don’t want her to be angry...”

Her voice was soft, sweet, and just fragile enough to stir a man’s desire to protect.

Of course, Joaquin fell right into it. He pulled her into his arms, his tall frame enveloping her as she sobbed delicately against his chest.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt our children,” he murmured, looking down at her tenderly. “That includes you. If anyone tries to hurt you two, I’ll make them suffer even more.”

I pushed the door open and rolled inside.

“So throwing a woman with fractured legs into a bullfighting ring wasn’t enough punishment?”

Joaquin clearly hadn’t expected me to come back. His gaze flicked toward the wheelchair I was in, a fleeting look of guilt crossing his face.

I ignored both of them and started wheeling myself toward my room.

“Sis...” Cassidy called timidly, but I didn’t spare her a glance.

That was when Joaquin grabbed my arm.

“Allison, don’t you want to know how they got here?”

I met his eyes—eyes burning with blame—and answered flatly, “It has nothing to do with me.”

Just then, the twins started crying. They squirmed out of the housekeeper’s arms, visibly frightened.

Joaquin sighed, as if he had finally made a difficult decision.

“It’s because of you. Every time it gets dark, they cry themselves to sleep in fear. Cassidy’s claustrophobia has also relapsed.”

I looked up at him, my tone was calm and cold.

“So?”

His thick brows furrowed deeper. “You’re being too selfish. You need to apologize to them.”

Before I could even respond, Cassidy stepped between us.

“Brother-in-law, please don’t fight because of me and the kids. I’ll talk to my sister. Go check on the children first.”

The moment he disappeared down the hallway with the twins, Cassidy’s expression twisted. Her sweet face contorted into something venomous.

“Dear sister, I suggest you step aside soon. Otherwise, a broken leg might just be the least of your problems.”

I narrowed my eyes. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

She feigned shock, covering her mouth dramatically. “Sis, what are you saying? I don’t understand.”

I turned away, unwilling to waste another word on her.

That’s when she suddenly let out a scream—and threw herself at me.

I instinctively shielded my injured leg. She missed me and crashed heavily to the floor on her own.

“Sister, please don’t be like this... I’m scared. I really love Joaquin, and he loves me...”

Her pitiful cries echoed through the house, just as Joaquin rushed back in.

With no hesitation, he kicked my wheelchair.

I fell hard on the floor.

Fresh blood seeped through my bandages as the stitches on my wound burst open again.

Joaquin didn’t care. He simply picked Cassidy up in his arms, glaring down at me with hatred.

“You really haven’t learned your lesson.”

Cassidy clung to his neck and sniffled.

“Brother-in-law... I just wanted the emerald necklace. I thought it might help purify the kids’ energy field. I didn’t think she’d get so upset."

"Maybe she still loves you too much. I remember... that necklace, you made it for her yourself, didn’t you?”

Joaquin’s gaze shifted to the green gemstone around my neck. His jaw clenched.

“If I made it with my own hands, I can take it back with my own hands.”

He yanked it off me. The delicate lace thread snapped under the force, leaving it misshapen and torn.

I clutched my chest, struggling to breathe through the pain that struck like lightning through my heart.

That emerald had cost him eighty million at a royal auction. It was my birthstone—my so-called “guardian stone.” And the lace cord that held it? He had spent 88 hours weaving it by hand.

But none of that matters now.

Cassidy fell beside me, deliberately pressing the full weight of her body onto my injured leg.

Her tone was soft as she pleaded, “Sis, I'm begging you... just one energy cleansing for the kids. They’ve been so traumatized by what happened the other day...”

Her words were gentle—but her eyes glittered with cruelty.

Then, without warning, she drove her elbow straight into the exact spot where my bone was fractured.