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."

The moment Czarina said those words, I instinctively removed the jade bracelet and handed it to her.

Ever since Ryan died, Czarina had been left with severe psychological problems.

She would break down without warning.

And every time, Oliver expected me to give way.

The last time she wanted the earrings my mother left me, I refused. I lost my temper.

The next day, the entire house was filled with flowers—so many that my asthma flared up.

I clutched the hem of Oliver's trousers, gasping, begging him for my inhaler.

He merely looked down at me, towering like a judge from above.

"Now you know how much pain Czarina feels when she has an episode."

Before Czarina even took the bracelet, she gasped and stumbled backward.

The jade slammed into the floor—scattering into countless shimmering shards.

Her eyes turned red immediately. "I know you hate me. I know Mom only liked you. Even though your background can't compare with mine, she was still willing to give you thirty million just to marry Oliver."

"But what about me? I'm sick too. Who's going to bring Ryan back to me?!"

She grabbed my collar. The sharp tips of her manicured nails sliced across my cheek, leaving thin bloody marks.

Oliver pulled her into his arms.

She collapsed against him, sobbing hysterically.

"Get out," he said.

He had always believed I married him for the money. Always lumped me in with greedy, shallow women.

After five years... I no longer cared to explain.

I staggered out of the bedroom—only to realize the entire house had been transformed.

The one photo of me and Oliver that I had cherished like my last lifeline... To Czarina, things like that could fill an entire mansion.

I covered my mouth as a suffocating panic surged through me. I didn't know when she recovered her sanity that day.

I didn't leave the room at all.

I lay on the bed, scrolling through destinations, choosing where I wanted to go once I left this place.

Only when night fell did I finally book my ticket.

I didn't hear the door open. But suddenly, an arm circled my waist, pulling me back into a familiar hard chest.

"Your hand is injured. Doesn't it hurt?"

So the jade shards had cut the back of my hand.

I hadn't felt anything.

Funny, wasn't it—all the years I cried myself hoarse, he never noticed my pain.

But now...

I stayed silent, pretending to sleep.

A cool touch brushed the back of my neck—his lips.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a violent bang.

Czarina stood at the doorway, hair wild, eyes manic in the flickering light.

"What are you doing?!"

I sat up, about to explain, but she lunged at me, yanking my hair with all her strength.

"You home‑wrecking slut! Who told you to crawl into my husband's bed?!"

Even with Oliver restraining her from behind, she still managed to kick me hard—right in the abdomen.

Holding my head, I stared at her, and saw pure, poisonous hatred burning in her pupils.

A fire ignited in my chest.

I stood up and slapped her across the face—again and again.

"Look clearly, Czarina—you are the one seducing my husband!"

Within the hour, all of us were taken to the police station.

Czarina cried as if her soul were being torn apart. She pointed at me, calling me a mistress with every breath.

To every passerby in the hall, she wailed that she'd caught me in bed with her husband.

People walking by covered their mouths, shaking their heads.

"She's so young... why ruin herself by being a mistress?"

"That vixen face—she must've climbed her way up with her body."

I lowered my head, both cheeks swollen and bruised.

"Enough. Don't say anymore," Oliver said suddenly.

Whenever Czarina had an episode, he always echoed her, no matter what.

And somehow... a pathetic sliver of hope stirred inside me.

I wanted him to tell them who I was.

"Czarina, don't get so worked up. What if you hurt the baby?" He gently soothed her.