The next morning, the surveillance feed showed Rosette nestled in Evren's arms, the two of them sharing cherries in a haze of intimacy.

Evren covered her eyes playfully and pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped box from behind his back.

"Rosette, I got you a gift. Open it and see if you like it."

The moment she lifted the lid, my heart lurched.

Inside the box lay a familiar brooch—my mother's keepsake.

I remembered how Evren and I had attended an auction together once. The brooch had gone to a mysterious bidder for an absurdly high price, and he pretended to comfort me afterward, saying it was a shame we hadn't won it.

Now I realized the truth—he had been the one who bought it in secret. Only to give it to his foster sister as a gift.

My hands clenched around the bedsheet as I watched Rosette pin the brooch to her dress.

She frowned.

"It doesn't look as nice as I imagined," she said casually. "Analeia wanted it so badly, but now that I see it up close, it's nothing special."

Evren chuckled, his tone lazy and indulgent as he brushed her neck with his fingers.

"If you don't like it, I'll buy you another one."

On hearing his words, her confidence grew instantly. She leaned in and kissed his cheek before tossing the brooch into the trash bin. "It's hideous anyway. Throwing it away is being generous!"

I sat on the hospital bed, trembling, fighting through the pain that racked my body.

Ignoring the doctor's protests, I slipped out of the ward.

When I reached home, pale and weak, they were standing together in the living room, planning a vacation.

Seeing me in the doorway, disheveled and silent, a flicker of smug satisfaction flashed in Evren's eyes.

"So you finally came back," he said coldly. "You had the nerve to walk out yesterday without a word. Tsk. No respect for your elders at all."

I didn't respond. My vision blurred as I headed straight for the trash bin in the living room and gently lifted the brooch out as though it were made of glass.

Rosette laughed softly behind me.

"I didn't know you had a habit of picking things out of the trash, Sister-in-law. But unfortunately, anything I throw away—no one else is allowed to keep. I'd rather destroy it."

Evren's expression darkened. His gaze turned sharp and frigid.

"Analeia, give the brooch back. It belongs to Rosette."

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at him, forcing the words out between trembling lips.

"That brooch was my mother's keepsake. You knew that."

But there was no trace of pity in his eyes, only cold indifference.

He had long forgotten the man he once was—the man who swore he'd make me the rightful mistress of the Johnson family, the man who promised to find and return my mother's brooch to me.

Now, every vow he'd ever made meant nothing.

He strode over and yanked the brooch from my hand. In doing so, it tore open the barely healed wound on my arm. I winced, blood seeping through the fabric.

It was only then that he seemed to notice something was wrong.

He grabbed my arm, pulled up my sleeve and froze.

"Analeia... you're hurt?"

He pushed up both sleeves, revealing the bruises and bandages.

For a fleeting second, the ice in his eyes melted. His expression shifted to shock then panic. He quickly supported me onto the sofa.

"What happened? You've never hidden things from me before."

My lips parted, ready to speak—but Rosette stepped in with perfect timing.

"Sister-in-law, you're hurt! Why didn't you say something? Go rest first."

Then, turning to Evren, she added sweetly, "Brother, go buy her some medicine. We can talk later."

Evren nodded, grabbed his keys, and left.

As soon as the door closed, Rosette walked over, the brooch glinting in her hand.

Narrowing her eyes, she snarled. "Analeia, why do you always cling to Evren? If it weren't for you, I'd be the one married to him! You stole everything that should've been mine!"

I stared back at her coldly as she pulled a divorce agreement from her bag and laid it on the bed.

"If you want this brooch," she said smugly, "sign it. Then it's yours."

She tossed a pen toward me.

Before she could say another word, I picked up the pen and signed my name without hesitation.

Rosette froze, her smirk fading into disbelief.

I looked up calmly and held out my hand.

"Now," I said quietly, "give me back the brooch."

Rosette's lips curved into a sly, mocking smile.

"To tell you what," she said. "The day after tomorrow is my birthday. If you agree to be my servant for one day, I'll return the brooch to you."

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. After a long silence, I forced myself to nod.

"I'll do it."

When her birthday arrived, Evren rented out an entire underground club for her celebration—all because Rosette had said she wanted a thrilling party.

The place glittered with lights and laughter. Evren's friends gathered, raising their glasses to the birthday girl.

And, as always, the spotlight belonged to the two of them—Evren and Rosette.

He gently placed a lace birthday veil on her head, then smiled as he took out a small velvet box.

"Rosette," he said softly, "this is your surprise."

Inside lay a diamond ring.

Evren knelt on one knee to slip it onto her finger, and his friends burst into teasing murmurs.

"Why does this look like a proposal? If I didn't know better, I'd think they were getting married."

"Well, they're not blood-related anyway. If she weren't his foster sister, I bet Evren would've married her long ago."

Their laughter echoed across the hall.

I stood silently in the shadows, my heart splitting open, trembling so hard I could barely breathe.

Then, suddenly—a heavy clang echoed through the air as a massive iron cage descended from the ceiling, containing several hunting dogs. It was supposed to be part of a performance, an underground dog-fighting match for entertainment.

But in the next instant, a metallic crack pierced the air, and the chain snapped.

With a sharp clang, the chain snapped. The cage crashed to the floor, its lock breaking apart.

The starving hounds burst free.

Screams erupted as the dogs lunged at the crowd.

One of them charged straight toward me.

I froze. My body refused to move.

Evren shouted my name somewhere in the chaos—but the next second, searing pain exploded through my arm as the dog's fangs tore into my flesh.

When I opened my eyes again, Evren was already outside, holding a trembling Rosette in his arms, shielding her.

Just when I thought I would die there, the sound of a dog's pained whimper filled the air.

Evren turned back, blood dripping from his palms, and glanced at me—cold and distant.

"Take her to the hospital," he ordered his assistant flatly.

I watched his retreating back through a haze of tears until my vision went black.

...

When I woke up, the scent of disinfectant filled the room. A nurse was changing my IV drip.

Moments later, Evren's assistant entered, carrying a small box.

"Where's Evren?" I asked weakly.

"Mr. Johnson is busy," he replied politely. "He asked me to bring you this."

Inside the box was a brooch. I held it tightly, feeling a flicker of relief—at least Rosette hadn't gone too far this time.

After the assistant left, I scrolled through my phone absentmindedly. That's when I saw it: Rosette's new post.

A video, uploaded an hour ago.

She was standing on a yacht's deck, leaning against a familiar pair of arms—the same hands that had once held me.

The caption read: [The person who loves me the most, even when afraid, still spends every second comforting me.]

My vision blurred.

The last bit of hope in my heart shattered completely.

I remembered how, years ago, Evren once panicked and rushed to the hospital just because he'd been scratched by a monkey during the mountain hike.

But now, covered in his own blood, he could still take Rosette out to watch the sea—leaving me alone in a hospital bed, not even asking if I was alive.

...

A week later, I was discharged.

When I got home, I heard laughter coming from the living room. Evren and Rosette were playing some kind of game.

When Evren took the blindfold and tied it around his own eyes, Rosette pulled out a document from behind her back.

"Brother," she purred, "you still owe me one last birthday gift. Can you give it to me now?"

Evren smiled indulgently. "Anything you want."

"Really? Then I want your signature," she said sweetly. "But you can't peek. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course," he chuckled. "Whatever you want, you can have it—even if it's my entire fortune... or my life."

Without hesitation, he signed.

When she tucked the document away—her face lit up with triumph.

It wasn't just any paper.

It was our divorce agreement.

A moment later, Evren removed his blindfold, grabbed her by the waist, and pressed her down beneath him.

Their laughter turned to breathless whispers, their silhouettes tangling together.

Between gasps, Rosette murmured, "Brother, Analeia's been in the hospital for a week. Aren't you going to visit her? Won't she notice the brooch is fake?"

Evren smirked. "Don't worry. I had a perfect replica made. Unless she gets it appraised, she'll never know. My little Rosette's too mischievous—throwing the original into the sea."

Evren brushed the tip of Rosette's nose with his finger, making her giggle and blush. The two of them flirted and whispered sweet nothings, completely unaware that I was standing just outside the door.

My mind went blank. My face was as pale as paper. It felt like all the strength had been drained from my body.

Suddenly, the little charm hanging from my phone slipped loose and hit the floor with a sharp clink.

Startled, I looked through the crack of the door—and met Rosette's gaze. Her eyes curved with satisfaction as she leaned closer into Evren's arms, while he remained oblivious to my presence.

Holding him tightly, Rosette turned slightly toward my direction, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

"Hehe, that brooch? I threw it into the shallow waters by the shore. If someone were desperate enough to dive for it, maybe they'd find it."

Evren let out a low hum, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead. His voice was deep and lazy.

"It doesn't matter. If I say it's real, then it's real. Analeia won't doubt my words. Now focus on me."

My knees buckled. I slid down against the doorframe, trembling, listening to the sickly sweet sounds from inside. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Somehow, I forced myself to leave the house, made it to the underground garage, and drove away in one of Evren's cars.

By the time I reached the beach Rosette had mentioned, dusk had already fallen.

The beach was quiet, empty except for the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

With such a long stretch of coastline, finding that brooch was nearly impossible—but I searched anyway.

I waded along the shallow waters, combing the sand bit by bit.

Two days and two nights passed, and I still found nothing.

Eventually, I collapsed from exhaustion and was taken to the hospital.

While I lay there half-conscious, a message arrived on my phone—from Rosette.

[I heard you spent two days looking for that brooch and ended up in the hospital again. You'd better be careful, or you might lose the baby. Honestly, I lied that day. I threw the brooch into the sewer.]

My hands trembled as I read the message. Rage boiled in my chest, and I started coughing violently.

The doctor said he'd informed Evren—but he never came.

Not that day. Not the next morning either.

When I was finally discharged early the following day, I checked my phone again.

Evren had sent me a message.

[Rosette, today marks your 7,365th day with the Johnson family. I want to give you a surprise.]

A photo followed.

His bare chest filled the screen. Near his heart bloomed a freshly inked gardenia—Rosette's favorite flower—and beneath it was her initials.

He'd gotten a tattoo for her.

Once, when we were still in love, I mentioned wanting to get matching tattoos—to leave a symbol of us on each other's skin.

But he had rejected me outright.

He'd said tattoos were childish, pointless, and that he hated them more than anything.

Now, I finally understood.

It wasn't that he hated tattoos. He just hated the idea of having mine.

I stood at the hospital entrance, staring at the photo until my tears blurred it out of focus.

A bitter smile crept across my lips as I deleted his message.

...

When I returned home, Evren was waiting in the living room.

The moment he saw me, he stood up quickly and walked over, a trace of panic and guilt flashing across his face.

"You're back," he said, forcing a smile. "Did you... see the message I sent you?"

I lowered my gaze, my expression hidden in shadow, and shook my head slowly.

"No. What did you send?"

Evren's shoulders relaxed in relief.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Oh."

I turned calmly and headed to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Evren came in carrying a glass of orange juice.

"Drink this," he said softly.

After he left, I poured it straight into the toilet. Obviously, he'd forgotten I was allergic to oranges.

Five minutes later, he returned to collect the glass. Seeing it empty, a faint smile curved his lips.

I lay down, pretending to sleep, when the faint murmur of voices drifted from the living room.

"Brother, are you sure she's asleep?"

"I put a sleeping pill in her orange juice. Since I promised to give you a surprise tonight, I won't let anyone interrupt us."

"Hmph. You sent the wrong photo. Aren't you afraid she'll see it?"

"Don't worry. She said she didn't get it."

Rosette giggled softly. "And what if she did?"

There was a long silence. Then Evren spoke, his voice calm and chilling. "Then we'll get a divorce."