At three in the morning, I received a call from the anti-prostitution squad for the 199th time in my five years of marriage.

My husband had been caught again—this time with his widow sister-in-law.

When I arrived, the squad members looked embarrassed, scratching their heads.

"Ms. Sandler... today's team was all new recruits. They didn't know you'd asked us not to arrest Mr. Romulo and Ms. Brown before."

I shook my head, my expression perfectly calm.

Oliver's collar was open, a red mark at his throat, and he held the crying Czarina in his arms, soothing her relentlessly.

He glanced at me with annoyance. "Last time you told them in advance, didn't you? What's the point of sending them after me and Czarina today?"

Instinctively, I touched the scars left on my fingers from when he had snapped my nails one by one after my infamous meltdown at the police station.

"Sorry... it won't happen again," I replied calmly.

Oliver blinked, then, for the first time, his expression softened and tried to explain. "Once Czarina gets pregnant to carry my brother's bloodline, I'll come home on time."

"But lately she's been... unstable, you—"

I didn't even hear the rest. I stepped outside and signed the report.

The squad member gave me a knowing look. "He'll remember how good you are, eventually."

I finally forced a smile. I didn't need him to remember how good I'd been.

After all, the five-year marriage contract sealed with thirty million was about to expire anyway.

——

I had just gotten into my car when the rear door opened. Oliver got in with Czarina in his arms.

The mixed scent of their perfumes made my stomach turn. I rolled down the window, and through the rearview mirror, I saw him frown.

"In this freezing weather... why open the window? Czarina is fragile; she can't catch a cold."

And with that, he rolled it back up.

I said instinctively, "You're really thoughtful."

Three years ago, after a single phone call from Czarina, he had left me stranded on a six-thousand-meter mountain—snowstorm raging—and hadn't even bothered leaving me a coat. Later, when I got out of the ICU, he had sheepishly admitted he'd forgotten.

"Enough. You don't need to act all passive-aggressive. Czarina owes you nothing. If she hadn't saved my brother and me back then, you wouldn't even have a chance to marry me with the thirty million my mother gave you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "First, we're picking up the car and our things at the hotel. Then I'll drop Czarina home myself."

I followed the GPS directions in silence.

I didn't argue anymore about how my mother's thirty million had been tied to a promise. I didn't hint, openly or subtly, that Czarina was not as simple as she seemed.

Even I hadn't realized it—he had stopped trusting me a long time ago.

Oliver seemed uncomfortable with my silence. He tried to act affectionately, holding Czarina close, pretending.

Czarina blushed. "Lydia... I swear I don't mean to take Oliver from you. I just... when my episodes hit, I forget everything. Seeing him reminds me of my late husband."

"When I have a child, I'll stay far away from you, so you'll have time to have one of your own."

I slowly let go of the steering wheel, placing my hand on my flat belly.

Here, I had already lost three children.

Oliver looked displeased. "Why are you talking like this? Can someone as clumsy as you even take care of yourself?"

I was about to respond when the car suddenly braked sharply.

"We're here."

I rubbed my hands, still cold despite the heater, and opened the door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him escort Czarina back to the hotel, carrying a bag full of... adult toys.

Czarina tossed her torn clothes aside, cheeks burning, casting subtle glances toward the direction my car had parked.

When they got into his supercar, I turned the wheel and drove away.

At the traffic light, Oliver unusually reached out to me.

"Later, I'll go home to get some documents. Want an egg tart for breakfast?"

So many times in the past, after leaving the police station, he would ask me if I wanted an egg tart.

The first time, I cried through it. But today... I felt sick of it.

I didn't reply. Instead, I used the last few seconds of the red light to answer my late mother-in-law's estate lawyer.

"Attorney Palmer, thank you for the reminder. I haven't forgotten my agreement with Mom. I'll be there in seven days to sign the papers on time."

The wind hit me on the way home, and by the time I arrived, I felt light-headed.

Sitting half-awake on the living room sofa, my fingers, still scarred from healing, burned like fire. The pain cut through me.

Oliver came in with two boxes of egg tarts and froze at the sight of me tracing the jagged scars on my fingers.

In the dim light of the living room, I couldn't read his expression.

"Now that you know it hurts, stop making a fuss."

A fuss?

I felt momentarily lost.

Of course, in Oliver's eyes... crying until I collapsed after discovering the man I loved with my widowed sister-in-law at mother's memorial was a fuss.

Showing up at his office, four months pregnant, hoping to celebrate his birthday together only to find Czarina in his arms eating cake—and slapping her—was a fuss.

Having a miscarriage and hemorrhaging while he traveled abroad with Czarina to watch the sunset, ignoring my ninety-nine desperate phone calls... that was a fuss too.

I realized, after all these years of marriage, I was always the one apologizing.

So, without thinking, I pushed the box of tarts aside and said, "I'm... sorry."

Oliver sat down beside me, opened the box, and lifted an egg tart to my lips.

"Alright, Lydia. Just hold on a little longer. Once Czarina gets pregnant, has something to worry about, I'll belong only to you."

The cloying sweetness of the tart hit my nose, triggering a wave of nausea.

I bolted to the bathroom, retching violently.

I faintly heard him muttering behind me, "Tsk. So delicate."

I wiped the corners of my eyes with my hands, letting the cold water wash away my tears.

The eighteen-year-old Lydia loved the egg tarts Oliver waited in line to buy. But the twenty-eight-year-old Lydia... hated the consolation Oliver bought just to appease the household's shrews.

I staggered to my feet, bracing against the doorframe. Then a sound came from the corner.

The housekeeper's face went pale at the sight of the shattered photo frame.

"Madam... I'm so sorry..."

Even Oliver, who rarely cared about the house, knew how much I had treasured that photo of us—like it was my life itself.

Seeing this, he uncharacteristically snapped at the servant. "If you can't handle something so small, don't bother coming to work."

"It's fine. Since it's broken, just throw it away after cleaning up," I said at the same time he did.

Oliver froze. Then he saw me look up, forcing a smile.

"Throw it away. You always said it was an eyesore anyway."

For some reason, he looked away for the first time.

"Alright. I always thought the wedding dress that day wasn't great. We can take new photos next time."

He didn't know there wouldn't be a next time.

I reminded him kindly. "Oliver... Mom and I have an agreement. Our marriage contract is about to—"

I didn't say the words expired soon.

Oliver picked up the phone. Three seconds later, his eyes lit up with joy.

"You're pregnant?!"

Veins bulged on his hand as he gripped the phone, radiating unrestrained, genuine happiness.

After hanging up, he finally asked me, "What did you just say about my mother?"

I shook my head. "Let's wait for Attorney Palmer to come next time."

Once the agreement was finalized, Oliver and Czarina would finally be able to be together in the open.

Ever since his mother passed away, the person Oliver hated seeing most was her estate lawyer.

As expected, his brows knitted tightly.

"I don't care what you're plotting with my mother's will. This pregnancy of Czarina's cannot have any accidents. She was the most important person to my brother."

He didn't wait for my response. He strode to the foyer, changed his shoes, and with a loud bang, slammed the door behind him.

The housekeeper came over holding the shattered photo frame.

"Madam... you never had the heart to put this photo away before. Are you really throwing it out?"

I gave a soft laugh. My heart tightened, then loosened all at once.

"It was thrown away long ago."

Five years ago, on a stormy night, Ryan—his older brother—was in a multi-car collision with Czarina.

That same night, Oliver had a high fever but insisted on rushing to the hospital.

I cried and tried to stop him.

"Oliver, you're burning up. There are plenty of doctors there—you won't be able to help..."

For the first time, he glared at me coldly.

"How would I not help? That's my brother and sister-in-law. Not everyone is as heartless as you."

"When your mother was dying, you could pretend you didn't see it. You knelt at my mother's feet instead. Lydia, I'm not like you."

He walked out.

And I followed after him in the rain, ending up at the old Romulo residence.

His mother handed me a bank card again.

"Lydia, let's make a deal. This thirty million will be your payment for marrying Oliver for five years. Your mother's illness needs this money too. During these five years, I need you to watch over Oliver... and keep an eye on Czarina for me."

"After five years, no matter what happens, you'll be free."

Back then, I didn't understand. I'd secretly loved Oliver for five years—how could I ever walk away?

But three days later, when he returned from the hospital and announced the news of his brother's death... everything changed.

He said, he wanted Czarina to bear his child.

That child would be the eldest son of the Romulo family in name—his brother's child.

I stood up and instructed the housekeeper to take down the huge wedding portrait hanging in the bedroom.

But the moment she removed it, several men came in carrying another massive wedding portrait.

The groom was still Oliver. But the bride... was now Czarina.

Czarina walked in, hand gently stroking her flat stomach.

"Lydia, I'm sorry. My condition has been unstable lately. The doctor said having more items that show my intimate connection with Oliver will help me recover."

"You have great taste. Help me pick a few more photos."

Her finger scrolled down and down—she couldn't even finish flipping through the endless wedding albums.

She glanced at me, smiling faintly. "By the way, why are there no photos of you and Oliver in this house? Did you hide them somewhere?"

Right then, Oliver entered and directed the servants to mount the new frame.

Only afterward did he speak.

"Czarina will be staying here until she gives birth. For her health, we'll arrange the house according to her needs."

"So put our photos away. If she has another episode and hurts herself after seeing them, it'll be on you."

"We don't have photos anymore."

I said it beneath Czarina's triumphant gaze.

Oliver had forgotten—forgotten that he was the one who burned our wedding albums himself during one of my desperate breakdowns.

I once mourned it at midnight...

We had been just one photo away from completing the album.

He parted his lips, about to speak, but before he could—Czarina grabbed my wrist. Her nails dug into my skin.

She gently traced the jade bracelet on my arm, eyes glowing with envy.

"Mom treated you well... She even gave you the family heirloom."