"Madam, Ms. Henson is here. She's waiting for you in the living room." Jessica's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I walked downstairs to find Sarah sitting in her wheelchair, a beautifully wrapped box in her lap.

"Jasmine." Seeing me, she flashed a sugary smile. "Yesterday was my fault."

"I made these cookies myself. Will you try them?"

I looked at her coldly.

"What do you want?"

Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered.

"My brother went to the neighboring city for a meeting. He won't be back until this evening."

"He was afraid you'd be bored, so he asked me to keep you company."

She placed the cookies on the table and, as if by accident, added, "Oh, right. Jasmine, that bracelet you wore yesterday was stunning. What brand was it?"

I glanced down at my wrist.

Empty.

It was the first gift Simon had ever given me. I never took it off.

Last night, in my distress, I must have left it on the bathroom sink.

Panic flared in my chest. I turned and ran back upstairs.

But the sink was bare, save for my skincare bottles.

The bracelet was gone.

I rushed back down, my gaze locking onto Sarah.

"Where is my bracelet?"

Sarah looked the picture of innocence.

"What bracelet? Jasmine, I don't know what you're talking about."

"When I arrived, Jessica was cleaning the guest room. You should ask her."

I turned to Jessica.

The housekeeper looked flustered. "Madam, I... I didn't see any bracelet."

I was shaking with rage.

There were only three people in this villa.

If it wasn't the maid, who else could it be?

Seeing the storm brewing in my eyes, Sarah said timidly, "Jasmine, don't be angry. Maybe you remembered wrong?"

"Or... maybe it fell somewhere?"

"Is it that important to you?"

"Hand it over."

The color drained from Sarah's face instantly.

"Jasmine... I'm sorry, I really didn't take it..."

Her eyes reddened on cue, big, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I... I'll help you look! I'll help you find it!"

She began to laboriously turn her wheelchair, craning her neck to look under the sofa and into the crevices of the cabinets.

Her performance was flawless—the pitiful, disabled girl trying to appease the unreasonable villain.

Jessica couldn't stand it. She stepped forward to mediate.

"Madam, please don't be anxious. It must have fallen somewhere."

"Ms. Henson isn't well. Please don't scare her."

Watching the two of them perform this synchronized routine made my stomach turn.

"Get out."

I pointed a trembling finger at Sarah.

"Take your things and get out of my house."

Sarah recoiled, staring at me blankly as her tears flowed harder.

Jessica hurried to push the wheelchair toward the door.

"Ms. Henson, you should go back first. Madam is in a bad mood today."

At the doorway, Sarah turned back, her voice choked with sobs.

"Jasmine, please don't be angry. When I get home, I'll make my brother buy you an exact replacement!"

"No—make him buy ten!"

A cold, sharp laugh escaped my lips.

She always knew exactly where to stick the knife.

After she left, I called Simon.

The phone rang for a long time before he answered. The background was noisy.

"Hello? Jasmine? I'm in a meeting. What is it?"

"Sarah took my bracelet. Tell her to return it." I didn't waste time with pleasantries.

Simon's voice dropped, icy and dangerous.

"Jasmine Delgado, what is this nonsense now?"

"Sarah is innocent. How could she possibly steal your things?"

"Are you still sulking over what happened yesterday?"

A bitter, incredulous laugh escaped my lips.

"Innocent? Simon Henson, are you blind?"

"After all these years, do you really not understand your own sister?"

Silence stretched on the other end of the line.

"Jasmine, how much was the bracelet? I'll wire you the money. Just stop bullying Sarah, alright?"

"She's pitiful enough as it is."

*Click.*

I hung up. I didn't have the energy to listen to another word.

Being with him... it felt utterly meaningless.

That night, Simon returned home.

"Tell me, which brand was it? I'll buy you a replacement."

I didn't answer. Instead, I slammed a document onto the coffee table.

"I want this."

An equity transfer agreement.

Specifically, for the 10% stake in the company my father had left me.

Years ago, to support his startup, I had transferred these shares to him without asking for a penny.

Now, I wanted them back.

He stared at the document. The color drained from his face until he was ashen.

"Jasmine, what is the meaning of this?"

"Exactly what it looks like."

"I'm taking back what belongs to me."

He surged to his feet, his gaze locking onto mine.

"Over a bracelet? You're doing this over a damn bracelet?"

"You're really going to settle accounts with me like a stranger?"

"In your heart, is our three-year marriage worth less than a piece of jewelry?"

I met his gaze calmly.

"In your heart, am I worth less than a single strand of Sarah Henson's hair?"

"You—!"

He choked on his rage, chest heaving.

After a long, tense moment, the fight seemed to drain out of him. He slumped back onto the sofa, rubbing his brow.

"Jasmine, stop making trouble."

"I know you feel wronged, but Sarah... she told me today she wants to seek treatment for her legs."

"She said she doesn't want to be a burden to me anymore."

"There's a specialist in Decheng, a top authority. I need to take her there."

I listened. My expression didn't change.

"So?"

"So, the company needs working capital right now. Can we put the shares issue aside?"

He looked up at me, his eyes taking on that familiar, pleading quality that used to melt my heart.

"Once the IPO is successful, I'll give you half the shares. Okay?"

I looked at him and laughed.

It must have been an ugly sound.

"Simon Henson, do you really think I'm that easy to fool?"

"Jasmine? You think I'm lying to you?"

"I thought you understood me better than anyone! When did you become like this?"

"Petty! Unreasonable!"

Watching him fluster and rage, I felt nothing but cold amusement.

"What have I become?"

"I just refuse to be the fool you manipulate anymore."

"Simon, return the shares, or we divorce. Simple as that."

"Impossible!" He cut me off. "The company is at a critical stage. I won't let you destroy it!"

"Then I'll see you in court."

I turned to leave.

"Jasmine!"

He caught my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"Does it have to end like this?"

"We have years of history. Can you really just throw it all away on a whim?"

I ripped my hand from his grasp.

"You were the one who threw it away first."

"From the moment you sacrificed me over and over for Sarah, we were finished."

He stood frozen, clearly stunned by the finality in my voice.

I didn't look back. I walked into the bedroom and locked the door.

My heart hammered against my ribs—not from excitement, but from a hollow, devastating ache.

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

The call connected instantly. A steady, professional male voice answered.

"Hello, Ms. Delgado."

My private investigator.

"Is it ready?"

"It is. Mr. Henson and his foster sister share a 'sibling bond' that is far more interesting than you suspected." His tone was dry. "I've sent the photos and videos to your email."

I hung up, booted up my laptop, and opened my inbox.

One by one, the files loaded.

Nausea rolled through my stomach.

Photos of Simon holding Sarah, kissing her on the sofa.

Videos of Simon changing the dressing on her legs, his hands lingering, wandering where they shouldn't.

Sarah in a sheer nightgown, perched on Simon's lap, feeding him fruit by hand.

I watched it all. My face felt numb.

So, his "repaying a debt of gratitude" was repaid in bed.

His "responsibility" was an affair with another woman, paraded right under the nose of his legitimate wife.

I downloaded everything to a USB drive.

Just then, my phone screen lit up with a text message.

*Ms. Delgado, this is Dr. Fox. Your latest test results show some abnormalities. We recommend you come to the hospital immediately for a detailed re-examination. This concerns the health of the fetus.*

I stared at the words *health of the fetus*.

My blood ran cold.

Grabbing my coat, I rushed out of the room.

In the living room, Simon sat on the sofa, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke.

Seeing me in a panic, he stood up immediately.

"It's late. Where are you going?"

I ignored him and headed for the door.

He chased after me, grabbing my arm.

"I asked you where you're going!"

"Let go!"

I struggled, but his grip was iron.

"Jasmine, what exactly are you trying to do?!"

"Just because I didn't agree to your demands, you're going out? Are you going to cheat on me?!"

His eyes were bloodshot, filled with humiliation and something close to madness.

I looked at him, and the absurdity of it all nearly made me laugh.

I unlocked my phone, pulled up the call log, and shoved the contact labeled "Dr. Freya Fox" in his face.

"Look closely at who I am going to see."

He froze.

"Jasmine, you... are you sick?"

I didn't answer. I wrenched my hand free.

But he followed me.

Just as I stepped out the front door, a shrill scream tore through the air from inside the house.

"Brother! My stomach! It hurts so much! There's blood! Save me!"

Simon stopped dead in his tracks.