Seven years ago, in order to accompany the fake heiress abroad for her recovery, Timothy Gibson casually signed the divorce papers I handed him.

Without even turning around, he sneered at me.

"Naomi, don't use such underhanded tactics to keep me around. Esther can't live without me abroad."

Seven years later, he blocked my path with his car, and he spoke to me with an air of superiority.

"Grandpa is critically ill. His only dying wish is to hold his great-grandchild.

"Come back with me, behave yourself, and give birth to an heir. You will still be Mrs. Gibson."

I looked down at my shoes. I recalled the time I stood in the rain and begged him not to leave. I even collapsed in the rain.

In the end, all it got me was a dismissive 'you're making a scene' from him.

Timothy still thought my life revolved around him.

He had no idea that without the title of Mrs. Gibson, I had lived very well these past seven years.

The very day after he signed the divorce papers, I married someone else.

Gently touching my stomach, which wasn't even showing yet, I smiled and said, "Mr. Gibson, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you. I am having a baby, but it isn't yours."

Timothy Gibson froze for two seconds. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

His gaze dropped to my flat stomach before he snorted.

"Naomi, you'll really make up anything just to turn me down?

"Who would want you apart from me? Even your biological parents abandoned you."

Abandoned… That was such a familiar term.

He hadn't changed at all. He just couldn't stop stomping on my pride.

Memories from ten years ago suddenly came rushing back.

When I was first brought to the Jackson family, my adoptive father had said in front of everyone, "You grew up in the countryside and are uncouth. Follow Esther's example from now on and don't embarrass the Jackson family."

Later, when Maria Jackson, my adoptive mother, found out that Timothy and I were together, she said bluntly, "You've already taken enough from Esther. You should learn to give in to her."

Confused, I asked what exactly I had taken from Esther.

She replied, "The marriage, of course. The Gibson family was supposed to arrange an engagement with Esther. Now it's been switched to you. Isn't that something you've taken from her?"

What she didn't know was that I had met Timothy long before Esther Jackson ever did.

I was eighteen at the time. I worked part-time at a coffee shop in the city that Timothy frequented.

He was the one who fell for me and approached me first.

We got into a relationship naturally.

Yet somehow, in Maria's eyes, it had become me taking what belonged to Esther.

My thoughts were interrupted by a phone ringing.

Timothy glanced at the screen and smiled. He deliberately put the call on speakerphone.

Maria's voice came through the phone. She sounded somewhat demanding.

"Timothy, have you found that ungrateful girl yet? Bring her back immediately!

"Esther just returned to the country. She wants that specialty cake from the bakery back in our old hometown. Pick one up on your way back."

Timothy answered with a simple, "Okay." After hanging up, he turned to face me.

"You heard her, didn't you? Go back, apologize, and give birth to a Gibson heir.

"You'll still be Mrs. Gibson, and you'll still be the rightful heiress of the Jackson family."

He made those two things sound like something I should be immensely grateful for.

I looked at him and suddenly found the whole thing amusing.

"Mr. Gibson, I'm married. I married someone else the day after our divorce seven years ago."

I reached into my purse, pulled out an ultrasound report, and tossed it through his open car window.

"For the past seven years, I've had nothing to do with the Jackson family. I have no obligation to give you an heir. Don't come looking for me again."

After saying that, I turned around and walked away.

There was silence behind me for a few seconds. Then came the sound of a car door opening.

"Naomi!"

I could hear Timothy running after me. He sounded a little irritated.

I didn't look back. Instead, I quickened my pace and turned into a nearby alley.

His footsteps faded behind me.

I knew his temper well. He had always been too proud to chase someone down the street.

A few seconds later, his phone rang again.

Esther's weak, delicate voice came through.

"Timothy, my chest hurts. Can you come back soon?"

Timothy was silent for two seconds. Finally, he said, "Wait for me."

The roar of the car engine echoed through the alley.

Standing around the corner, I listened as the sound faded into the distance. I slowly unclenched my fists.

After leaving that street, I returned to my bookstore.

Seven years ago, after I left the Jackson family, it was my husband, Ian Parker, who took me in. He was also the one who opened this bookstore for me.

My fingers absentmindedly traced the wood grain of the desk as my thoughts drifted back to seven years ago.

Back then, I was pregnant with Timothy's child.

Esther's chest hurt, and Timothy insisted on staying by her side.

I grabbed his arm and told him I wasn't feeling well. I asked him to take me to the hospital.

However, he shook me off and impatiently said, "Naomi, why are you so dramatic? Esther isn't feeling well. What's wrong with me taking extra care of her?"

The force of his shove threw me off balance. I tumbled down the stairs.

My stomach slammed into the sharp edge of a step. Pain shot through me, and I curled up on the ground.

He didn't even look at me once before turning around and leaving.

Lying on the floor, I felt something warm flowing out of my body. There was more and more of it.

I called his name repeatedly, but he never answered.

When I looked up, I saw Esther sitting in the passenger seat of his car through the window. She was looking at me through the window too.

She saw me falling down the stairs, me lying on the ground, and the blood pooling around me.

Yet she never warned Timothy.

She simply watched. She then smiled and rolled up the car window.

Once their car was gone, I dragged my bleeding body toward the front door.

I clawed into the grout lines between the tiles until my nails broke.

Ian happened to be driving by. When he saw me crawling on the steps, he panicked.

He carried me into his car and ran red lights all the way to the hospital.

But it was too late. The baby was gone.

When I woke up after surgery, Ian was the only one sitting beside my hospital bed.

The moment he saw my eyes open, he said calmly, "The baby's gone."

I stared at the ceiling. I felt completely hollow.

The next day, Timothy was about to accompany Esther overseas for recovery.

I climbed out of my hospital bed, pulled the IV needle from my hand, and returned to the Gibson residence.

Timothy was packing his luggage. When he saw me standing in the doorway, he frowned.

"What are you doing here?"

"Don't go." My eyes welled with tears as I grabbed his sleeve.

"Timothy, please don't go."

He shook me off.

"Naomi, can you stop making a scene?

"Esther isn't well. She needs to recover overseas. I can't leave her alone," he said impatiently.

He never noticed that my stomach was flat.

He never noticed that my face was pale or that my legs were trembling just from standing.

All he thought about was Esther.

Standing there in front of him, I suddenly felt calm.

I retrieved the divorce agreement from my purse and handed it to him.

Without even reading it properly, he signed it and tossed it back to me.

"Naomi, stop using such pathetic tricks to keep me around."

He then wheeled his suitcase away without a single glance back at me.

I watched him disappear through the doorway. The signed divorce papers were crumpled in my hand.

That night, it rained. I stood outside the Gibson residence until I collapsed.

When I woke up, Ian was beside me.

He said, "Naomi, come with me."

I nodded.

"Mommy!"

A sweet little voice suddenly pulled me out of my memories.

I looked up and saw my phone screen light up. It was a message from Ian.

[I just picked David up from school. I bought some cake too. We'll wait for you before we eat.]

I looked at the screen and smiled.

David Parker was the son Ian and I had. He was five years old.

I replied with a simple 'okay' and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

Just then, the wind chime above the shop door rang.

Esther stood in the doorway. Her hair was curled into large waves that cascaded over her shoulders, making her face look even paler and smaller.

When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with provocation and smug satisfaction.

"Naomi, it's been a long time."

I ignored her and continued organizing the books on the counter.

She wasn't bothered. Instead, she wandered around the store.

"Naomi, have you really fallen this far? Running a little bookstore like this? How much can you possibly make in a month?"

She turned around, looked at me, and smiled.

"I heard Timothy came to see you today. He even asked you to go back and have a baby for him, didn't he?"

I paused and looked at her in confusion.

My gaze made her falter for a second, but she quickly recovered and continued smiling.

"Don't get the wrong idea. He just needs a womb. You know better than anyone who he actually loves."

She stopped in front of me. She didn't even try to hide how proud she was.

"Naomi, you're nothing but a baby-making tool. I'm the only person he's ever loved."

I tightened my grip on the book in my hands.

"Esther, what exactly are you trying to say?"

She laughed and slowly circled the counter.

"Naomi, what are you even holding on for? Without the Gibson family, you're nothing.

"You're running this pathetic little bookstore. You probably can't even support yourself. And you're dragging around a burden on top of that–"

"Who are you calling a burden?"

"Oh? Did I hit a nerve?" She covered her mouth and laughed.

"Was I wrong? That kid you had with some random guy. What else would he be if not a burden?

"Timothy doesn't know, does he? Were you already pregnant with another man's child when you married that nobody?"

I heard a buzzing sound in my head.

"Esther, shut up."

"I'd rather not." She stepped closer. Smugness was written all over her face.

"Naomi, you got rid of Timothy's baby for that man, and now you're pregnant again.

"How do you have the nerve to act innocent in front of Timothy? Don't you find yourself disgusting?"

My hands were trembling.

No one knew better than Esther how I had lost my first baby.

She was sitting in that car. She watched me fall down the stairs through the window. She saw my blood flow across the ground. She watched me lying there and begging for help.

Back then, she had done nothing. She only watched.

Now she was twisting the story around.

"Esther, if you keep spewing nonsense, I'm not going to be nice about it."

She laughed so hard she nearly doubled over.

"Naomi, you're such a wretch. Timothy must have been desperate to settle for you."

I raised my hand and slapped her.

Esther covered her face with one hand. She was stunned.

Her eyes instantly welled up with tears.

"Naomi, how could you hit me?

"I came here out of kindness. I was trying to convince you to come back to the Jackson family. I'd understand if you didn't appreciate the gesture, but to hit me–"

Her gaze suddenly shifted to the entrance.

The familiar sound of leather shoes clacking rapidly against the wooden floor echoed through the shop.