On our wedding anniversary, my sister Diana Fox had a miscarriage because I slapped her.

Everyone called me vicious.

"When you do something wrong, you have to accept the consequences."

My husband Martin Barnes and my parents forced me to sign divorce papers, then had me sent to the County Detention Center.

The day I got out happened to be Martin and Diana's wedding.

I didn't crash the ceremony like everyone expected.

Instead, I boarded a train to another city and disappeared.

...

Seven years later.

I ran into Martin by chance outside the emergency room of a small-town hospital.

He was there with his pregnant wife, who'd come in with signs of a threatened miscarriage.

I was the ER doctor on duty.

"Ruth Fox?"

Recognition flickered across his face. His eyes dropped instinctively to my palm.

A jagged scar cut across it.

"You..."

His throat worked, but whatever question he'd meant to ask died when he met my gaze—flat and unreadable.

"Family members wait outside."

My voice betrayed nothing.

I looked at him the way I'd look at any other patient's relative.

After the procedure, I walked him through the post-op care instructions in detail.

Martin nodded along like he was paying attention, but his expression stayed distant, unfocused.

Then he asked something completely unrelated.

"After you got out... why didn't you come home? We were all worried about you."

A small voice piped up behind me.

"Mommy, how much longer? Lorna Coleman's tummy is so hungry."

Martin's gaze locked onto the little face that looked so much like his own.

His eyes went red.

"Is she..."

A nurse called my name just then.

I gave Martin a polite nod, took my daughter's soft hand, and walked away.

"Mommy, who was that man?"

Lorna craned her neck to look back.

"A patient's family member," I said evenly.

"He looked like he was crying. He kept staring at us."

I didn't slow down. "You imagined it."

The nanny who usually watched Lorna had something come up, so I'd had no choice but to bring her to the hospital.

Fortunately, the nanny had just called—she'd finished her errand and was on her way to pick Lorna up.

That night, emergencies kept rolling in.

I didn't stop until well past midnight, when I finally dragged myself back to my office.

Martin was waiting by the door.

I frowned slightly.

"Is there something else, Mr. Barnes?"

The formal address seemed to throw him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes's condition isn't serious. We'll observe her overnight, and if everything looks fine, she can be discharged in the morning."

My tone was no different than it would be with any other family member.

But something about "Mrs. Barnes" seemed to strike a nerve.

I watched his eyes redden, emotions churning beneath the surface.

He looked like he had a thousand things to say. His lips parted, trembled—but all that came out, rough and strained, were two words:

"Thank you."

"If there's nothing else, I'm heading home. The other on-call doctors can help if you need anything."

I gave a small nod and turned to leave.

Passing the nurses' station, one of the younger nurses grabbed my arm, eyes bright with gossip.

"Dr. Fox, was that Martin Barnes? The Martin Barnes, Southport's most famous lawyer?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"I heard he's never lost a case. They call him a legend in the legal world."

"Handsome, kind, and loaded—Mrs. Barnes is so lucky. Apparently they came up here to pray for the baby she's carrying."

As the young nurse spoke, her eyes shone with undisguised admiration for Martin and undisguised envy for Mrs. Barnes.

I smiled but said nothing.

The current Mrs. Barnes was indeed very happy.

She had a husband who loved her, parents who doted on her, and a baby on the way.

She was practically the center of everyone's universe.

Almost no one knew she'd been the other woman who clawed her way to the top.

My phone buzzed, snapping me back to reality.

Sorry, something urgent came up at work. I'll pick you up a bit later.

I typed back with a slight smile:

Take your time. I'll grab a cab.

Almost the second I hit send, a reply popped up:

Be careful on the road. Text me when you get home.

I put my phone away and noticed that snow had started falling outside at some point.

I waited for a long time, but no drivers responded to my ride request.

Honk!

A car horn sounded behind me.

A black Porsche Cayenne slowly pulled up beside me.

I recognized it immediately as Martin's car.

His license plate was Diana's birthday.

And my birthday was just one day after hers.

The passenger window slid down, revealing Martin's sharp jawline.

"Get in. I'll give you a ride."

I glanced at the ride app still spinning uselessly, thought about it for a few seconds, then opened the back door and got in. I gave him the name of my apartment complex.

I really was exhausted today and just wanted to get home and rest.

Besides, with this sudden change in weather, the scars on my palm and abdomen were aching and itching.

A free ride was a free ride. Why not take it?

Martin had an intense sense of territory over his space.

Back then, I wasn't even allowed to put a small trinket in the car.

Now.

The interior was filled with the scent of gardenias—Diana's favorite.

Everything I could see was decorated in pink—Diana's favorite color.

When he saw me sitting in the back, Martin laughed bitterly.

"So you really are treating me like a chauffeur?"

My voice was flat. "I just don't want your wife to get the wrong idea."

Those three words—"your wife"—acted like a silencing spell. Whatever Martin had been about to say, he swallowed it back down.

The car fell into a suffocating silence.

I stopped talking and turned my head toward the window.

Lights and shadows flickered outside, and in that haze, my mind drifted back to that day seven years ago.

The darkest day of my life.

It was my third wedding anniversary with Martin.

I'd been away on a business trip, but I caught a red-eye flight home to surprise him.

Instead, I stumbled upon Martin and my sister Diana in the middle of their affair.

They were in my marital home. In my marital bed. Tangled together.

They were so lost in each other that they didn't even notice me standing in the doorway.

Not until Diana happened to turn her head.

"Ruth!"

Diana's eyes went wide, and she screamed.

I thought Martin, caught red-handed, would at least be flustered. Ashamed, maybe.

But no.

Martin didn't rush to explain himself to me.

Instead, he gently pulled the covers over Diana, hiding the marks all over her body.

"Weren't you supposed to come back tomorrow?"

Martin didn't show a hint of guilt. If anything, his tone was accusing.

Back then, I had a temper like wildfire. I couldn't tolerate even a grain of sand in my eye.

In that moment, rage and hatred nearly burned away every last shred of my sanity.

I went hysterical, like a madwoman, attacking them with the most vicious words I could find, smashing everything in the room that could be smashed.

The room was destroyed.

Diana hid behind Martin, trembling.

"I'm so sorry, Ruth! I didn't mean for this to happen. We just... couldn't help ourselves."

Diana's voice trembled with tears.

Her eyes glistened, fragile and helpless—like some delicate flower that might wilt at the slightest breeze.

Nothing like the woman who'd been writhing in that bed moments ago.

Martin pulled Diana behind him, shielding her, and shot me a look of pure contempt.

"You're scaring her!"

"Look at yourself right now. You're acting like a lunatic."

Maybe I was.

I'd already sent the photos and videos to our family group chat. Let everyone see their disgusting faces for what they really were.

But the moment I hit send, my phone rang. Mom and Dad.

"Ruth, have you lost your mind?"

"Delete those right now! If people see this, how is Diana supposed to show her face in public?"

They'd always favored Diana.

All because she'd been kidnapped off the street as a child. It took eighteen years before they finally found her and brought her home.

To make up for all those lost years, they spoiled her rotten. Indulged her every whim.

And they expected me to go along with it. Diana came first. Always.

Even our birthdays—mine was just one day after hers, so they made me celebrate early so we could share. But the cake only ever had one name on it.

Diana's.

Still, I never imagined they'd take her side in something like this.

"You need to divorce Martin."

My sister had been sleeping with my husband behind my back.

And instead of holding her accountable, my parents were demanding I give him up.

"Why should I?"

The question tore out of me.

Diana was the one who'd done this. Why was I the one being asked to hand over my husband?

Their favoritism had crossed every line.

It felt like a boulder was pressing down on my chest. I could barely breathe.

"Diana is your sister. An older sister is supposed to look out for her younger sister."

Mom's voice was sharp with impatience, annoyed that I'd even asked.

I looked at Martin. The man I'd once loved more than my own life.

He just stared back at me. Cold. Silent. Not a word of explanation.

Diana leaned into his arms, all soft and helpless.

"Please, Ruth. Martin doesn't love you anymore. We're the ones who truly care about each other. I'm begging you—just let us be together."

"So you do know he's your brother-in-law?"

"Do you have any shame at all?"

Rage boiled over. My hand connected with her face before I could think.

Diana stumbled sideways and crashed into the coffee table.

"Ahh—"

She cried out, clutching her stomach, her face twisted in pain.

"Diana!"

Martin's expression changed instantly.

"My stomach... it hurts so much..."

Diana's face went white. Her voice shook.

Martin scooped her up and rushed toward the hospital.

As he passed me, he looked at me like I'd committed some unforgivable crime.

But I knew what I saw. Diana had thrown herself into that table.

That was when I learned the truth.

Diana and Martin had been carrying on for who knows how long. She was already pregnant.

After hours of emergency treatment, the baby didn't survive.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Dad's face was purple with fury. His palm cracked across my cheek with everything he had.

My face burned. My ears rang.

But the pain in my body was nothing compared to what was tearing through my heart.