When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I noticed was that the ceiling wasn’t mine. It was too white, too bright, too pristine.

My heart lurched as I sat up quickly, only to wince at the pain shooting across my body. Panic clawed at me, my breath catching in my throat.

Where was I?

“Ma’am, please.” A soft voice broke the silence. I whipped my head around and saw a maid standing near the corner, hands clasped in front of her. “You should take a rest. You’re not fine yet.”

My hands gripped the sheets. “Where am I? Where did you take me? Where’s my baby?” My voice cracked as I forced myself to sit straighter. “Tell me now!”

Before she could answer, a low, mocking laugh echoed from the doorway.

“Oh, come on, Stephanie. Chill. You’re no longer in danger.”

My blood ran cold at the sound of that baritone voice. Slowly, I turned, and my eyes widened.

“Inigo…” I whispered.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, the same arrogant smirk that had haunted me since high school plastered on his face. Of all people, it had to be him. My enemy, my rival in everything—grades, sports, even family expectations. Our fathers were business partners once, close friends, and there had been talks of an engagement back then. But I had refused. I hated him.

Yet here he was.

“Why am I here? What am I doing in your place?” I demanded, my voice trembling.

He stepped inside, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Because, dear Stephanie, you bumped into my car. I saved you.”

“My… my baby,” I stammered, clutching my stomach.

“All good,” Inigo replied smoothly. “The baby is fine. But you?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re not fine at all. Knowing what you just learned? That your precious husband is nothing but a traitor? I think the real question is—what will you do now?”

My throat tightened. “That’s none of your business.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, but it is. Why don’t you divorce him and marry me? Like you should have from the start.”

The audacity of him made my blood boil. “No! I will not do that! I hate you.”

“Still so fiery.” He grinned, unbothered. “That’s why I like you.” With a snap of his fingers, the maid turned on the television mounted on the wall. My heart stopped as the broadcast came into view.

There she was. Kyline. Smiling. Hand in hand with Brendon.

The caption burned into my brain: Love is sweeter the second time around.

So that was it. That was why I was hidden as a wife. Why there were no anniversaries, no public appearances, no pride in calling me his own. He had been waiting. Waiting for her to come back.

I exhaled shakily, the fight draining from me. “Fine. I’ll marry you.” The words tasted bitter, but my chest ached with resolve. “But first… I need to go home. I need to settle things. Pick me up again in four days.”

Inigo studied me for a moment before smirking. “Consider it done.”

Hours later, I was escorted home in a limousine. The tinted windows hid my face from the world, but my heart was pounding. As the gates of the Smith mansion loomed closer, I gripped the seat, bracing myself.

The doors opened, and there he was—Brendon.

He stormed down the steps, his expression thunderous. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you nonstop! And whose limousine is that?”

My lips curved into a humorless smile. “No one.”

“No one?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you cheating on me?”

I laughed bitterly. “Really? Me? Or was it you?”

His jaw clenched. “What are you saying? You come attacking me because our anniversary didn’t happen? I told you I was busy!”

“Busy with what?” I snapped, my voice trembling.

Before he could reply, a soft sob broke through. We both turned. Kyline stood at the door, tears streaming down her face, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Are you fighting because of me? I shouldn’t have come back, but I just wanted to come clean. To say sorry about your mother. I know it’s wrong timing.”

My eyes darted to her neck—and froze. The necklace. The Audrey Hepburn gold set. The one I thought was mine. It gleamed against her skin.

Rage boiled inside me.

“You harmed my mother!” I spat, stepping forward. “Do you think ‘sorry’ is enough?”

Kyline reached out to touch me. “Stephanie, please—”

I slapped her hand away. Hard. She stumbled, nearly losing her balance.

“Stephanie!” Brendon roared, rushing to Kyline’s side. His face twisted with fury. “Are you insane? She came here to apologize, and you dare harm her?”

Tears blurred my vision. “I don’t need her apology! She’s evil! You promised me—you said you would make her pay. So why now?”

“Enough!” Brendon shouted. His eyes were sharp, filled with disgust. “Do you really believe that? I’ve known her longer than you. She doesn’t deserve your hatred. Apologize to her. Now.”

I shook my head. “No.”

His voice dropped, low and threatening. “If you don’t, I’ll pull the plug on your mother’s life support.”

My heart stopped. “You… you would really kill my mother for her?”

“Yes.” His answer was cold, merciless. “So kneel. Now. And kiss her shoes.”

Kyline gasped, shaking her head. “Brendon, no—there’s no need for that—”

But Brendon’s glare silenced her.

Tears streamed down my face as my knees buckled. I lowered myself to the floor, humiliation burning through every vein. Slowly, painfully, I bent forward and pressed my lips to Kyline’s shoes.

Satisfied, Brendon pulled Kyline close and led her away, leaving me broken on the marble floor.

Alone.

I pressed my fists against my chest and cried until my body shook. But even as despair consumed me, a flicker of resolve sparked deep inside. Just a few more days. Four days, and I’d be gone. No one would ever harm me again.

Wiping my tears, I staggered to my room. My hands trembled as I picked up my phone, but my voice was steady when the line connected.

“Hello?”

“This is Stephanie Smith,” I whispered. “I want to file for divorce. File the papers.”

“I want to divorce Brendon Smith,” I whispered into the phone, clutching it so tightly my knuckles whitened. “File the papers.”

On the other end, my lawyer sighed, his voice heavy with caution. “Stephanie… you know that’s impossible. What about your mother? She’s still under treatment in the Smith-funded hospital. If you divorce him now, she’ll lose everything. She’ll die.”

My throat ached, but I steadied my voice. “Then I’ll transfer her. As soon as possible. I’ll use every last cent of my remaining money if I have to.”

“Stephanie—”

“No one can stop me. File the divorce,” I cut him off, my tone sharper than I’d ever dared before. “But send the papers on the day of the investors’ signing. The same day of the design proposal. That’s when I want Brendon to see them.”

There was silence, then a reluctant murmur. “As you wish.”

I ended the call before my courage faltered. My legs trembled as I stood, moving toward the closet. One by one, I yanked clothes off their hangers, tossing them carelessly into a suitcase. My jewelry, the ones Brendon had bought to make me believe he cares for me, I swept into the trash bin. I wanted nothing that tied me to him. Nothing.

I was about to rip the framed photo of our so-called wedding day—just a paper-signing in his office, no vows, no ceremony—when the door burst open.

Brendon strode inside without knocking, his tone curt. “Cook something. We have visitors tonight.”

I turned, jaw tight. “I’m not feeling well.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make excuses. You’ll do it.”

Before I could protest, his hand pressed firmly against my shoulder, shoving me backward toward the door. I stumbled but caught myself, my chest burning with humiliation. Once again, my voice didn’t matter.

By evening, the house was alive with chatter. Expensive shoes clacked against the marble floor, laughter rang from the living room, and champagne flowed freely. And me? I was in the kitchen, apron tied around my waist, serving plates to strangers as though I were nothing more than the help.

When I finally carried out a tray, balancing dishes as my arms shook, I froze. Eyes turned toward me. One of the guests, a tall man with a polished smile, asked casually, “And who is this?”

Brendon didn’t even blink. “My new maid.”

The room chuckled. My ears rang.

“She looks familiar,” another chimed in. “Wasn’t she the one who tried to smear Kyline’s name years ago? The one who went against her on national news?”

“Oh, how poetic,” someone laughed. “To take her in as a maid. What mercy, Brendon. What mercy, Kyline.”

The sound of laughter crashed over me like waves. I clenched the tray tighter, forcing my hands not to tremble.

Kyline, seated gracefully beside Brendon, smiled sweetly—her eyes glinting with victory. “Please, don’t mock her. It’s my fault. I caused her family pain, and this is my burden to bear. But she has been so kind to forgive me.” She placed a delicate hand over her chest. “I promise I’ll help take care of her mother, too. She doesn’t need to suffer anymore.”

Applause erupted.

“Then she should show gratitude,” a woman sneered. “Kiss her feet. Thank her for her kindness.”

My vision blurred. But I didn’t move. I stood frozen, staring past them, beyond them, into nothingness. I ignored every mocking word, every laugh, every whisper that I didn’t belong.

When I finally retreated, Brendon followed, slamming the door shut behind us. His voice was ice. “What the hell was that? They were speaking to you. And you just walked away?”

I spun around, my composure cracking. “They were mocking me, Brendon! Do you even see what you’ve reduced me to?”

“Dramatic,” he spat. “Overacting again. Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to parade you like this? I’m doing it for you. If I don’t keep Kyline close, she’ll come after you. She’ll attack you. Or your mother. Everything I do, I do for you.”

Gaslighting. Always gaslighting.

I shook my head, tears streaming. “No. You do it for yourself. For her.”

Before he could reply, a scream tore through the crowd outside. Glass shattered. Panic rippled through the guests.

“Poison!” someone shouted. “The food—something’s wrong!”

I rushed out just in time to see chaos unfolding. Several guests clutched their stomachs, faces pale. One woman collapsed onto the floor, vomiting violently. And then, Kyline herself doubled over, retching, tears streaking her cheeks.

All eyes swiveled toward me.

Whispers erupted like wildfire. It was her. The maid. The wife. She poisoned the food.

Within minutes, the sirens wailed and ambulances whisked the guests away. I found myself in the hospital again, hands trembling, my mind reeling.

Brendon’s fury scorched the air as he cornered me in a sterile corridor. “Did you do this?” he demanded, his face twisted in rage.

I shook my head frantically. “No! Why would I poison anyone? Why would I hurt them? Brendon, I didn’t—”

“Liar!” His roar silenced everything around me. “You wanted revenge. You humiliated me in front of my investors. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I swear, I didn’t—”

But before I could finish, his hand cracked across my face. The impact sent me sprawling against the cold hospital wall.

“Hit her again,” he barked to the men beside him. “Teach her a lesson.”

The blows rained down. Fists, boots, strikes that left me gasping and broken. I tried to shield my stomach, to protect the tiny life inside me, but the pain was relentless.

Darkness swallowed me.

When I woke, every part of my body ached. My lips were swollen, my ribs screamed with each shallow breath, and blood dried sticky on my skin.

My first words were a whisper. “My baby… where’s my baby?”

The nurse’s eyes glistened with sympathy as she clutched the clipboard to her chest. Her lips trembled when she finally spoke, soft but heavy as a funeral bell.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The baby didn’t make it.”

The nurse’s eyes glistened with sympathy as she clutched the clipboard to her chest. Her lips trembled when she finally spoke, soft but heavy as a funeral bell.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The baby didn’t make it.”

The words tore through me like a blade. My chest constricted, my throat burned, but no sound came out. My hands clutched my stomach instinctively, searching for life that was no longer there. My child—my only anchor of hope—was gone.

Not because of fate, but because of them. Because of Brendon. Because of the cruelty of the man I once called my husband.

I didn’t want this. I never wanted to lose my baby. I had endured the humiliation, the endless gaslighting, the insults, because I thought I could at least protect the child inside me. But now? All gone.

Even if I hated Brendon, even if he was the worst mistake of my life, the child wasn’t him. The child was mine. A piece of me. A life. And no matter how broken I was, I never wanted to lose that life.

My hands trembled as they pressed against my stomach, empty now. My lips shook as words tumbled out in a whisper only I could hear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, baby. I should have protected you. I should have fought harder. Please forgive me.”

Tears burned my cheeks as guilt swallowed me whole. It wasn’t fair. The baby had done nothing wrong, yet paid the price for the cruelty of the people around me.

The door creaked open. Brendon walked in, his expression unreadable, as though nothing had happened. His gaze flickered briefly to me, then to the nurse, before settling coldly back on me.

“You need to prepare yourself,” he said, his voice like ice. “There will be a press conference. You’re going to make a public apology.”

I stared at him in disbelief. My lips trembled. “Why would I apologize when I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“You did.” His tone sharpened. “You prepared the food.”

“No, I didn’t!” My voice cracked. “It was the maid. I only helped serve. I would never harm anyone—never!”

Brendon’s jaw clenched, his eyes dark with fury. “Really? I don’t care. The guests are already filing a case against us. If you don’t fix this, they’ll send you to jail.”

My whole body shook. “I lost my baby because of you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I was pregnant, Brendon. Pregnant. And now—”

He cut me off with a scoff. “So what? It’s just a baby. Don’t use that as an excuse.” His words were like poison, each syllable killing whatever was left of my heart. He leaned closer, his breath chilling against my ear. “If you refuse me again, I won’t have a choice but to kill your mother. Or your brother. Do you want that?”

My body went numb. He knew exactly where to strike—my weakest points, the people I still fought to protect.

A sigh escaped my lips, heavy with defeat. “Fine.”

Moments later, a maid entered the room, carrying a plain dress and some powder. She didn’t look at me with kindness—only duty. They made me stand before the mirror, combing my hair harshly, powdering over the bruises.

Yet no matter how they tried, my reflection looked more like a ghost than a wife. My clothes were dull, my eyes swollen, my figure ragged. I wasn’t a woman anymore—I was a shadow.

When I stood at the press conference podium, dozens of cameras flashed like daggers. Reporters whispered, waiting for me to crumble. In my trembling hands was a paper Brendon had prepared. My throat felt raw, my voice barely mine as I read aloud.

“I… I am sorry for the incident at our dinner party. It was my fault. I should have been more careful. I never meant harm to anyone. I take full responsibility. But please, don’t send me to jail. I beg you.”

The room erupted with questions, mocking laughter, judgmental stares. I bowed my head, biting my lip until I tasted blood. Tears blurred the letters in front of me, but I forced myself to finish. Because if I didn’t, my mother would die. My brother would die.

By the time I stepped off the stage, the damage was done. The crowd’s whispers trailed after me like knives. She’s the villain. She tried to poison them. She’s lucky Kyline forgave her.

When I returned home that evening, I walked into the living room only to find Kyline sitting comfortably on the sofa, sipping tea as though she owned the place. Her smile was warm, her voice dripping with false kindness.

“Stephanie,” she said, rising to meet me. “Thank you for what you did today. I know it must have been hard, but that is for the better. Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to make sure your mother is taken care of.”

Her words stabbed deeper than any blade. I should have screamed, should have clawed the smile off her face, but all strength had left me. Instead, I reached for my finger.

The wedding band—Brendon’s ring. The ring I had once worn with pride, convincing myself it meant something. Slowly, I slid it off and pressed it into her palm.

“Don’t worry,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. “You won’t need to worry about me anymore. Because you’ll never see me again.”

Kyline blinked, stunned.

I forced a bitter smile. “Have fun being the wife.”

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving behind the last piece of myself I had given to Brendon.