My entire body throbbed with a dull, heavy ache.

I was in a hospital bed. Eventually, my battered body had simply given out, and they had been forced to bring me here.

The moment the nurses checked my vitals and left the room, I moved. I ignored the sharp pain radiating through my ribs and reached for my phone on the bedside table.

My fingers flew across the screen, bypassing the standard lock and entering a hidden, encrypted operating system.

I dialed a number that wasn't saved in any contacts list.

Dominic answered on the first ring.

“Is it time?” his deep voice asked.

“Prepare the extraction,” I said, my voice hoarse but completely steady. “I am leaving the city in exactly three days. Have everything ready.”

Before I could lock the screen, a message popped up.

It was a live video link from Amber.

I tapped it. The screen filled with the familiar, sweeping view of the historic coastal estate I had inherited from my late parents.

It was my sanctuary. The only place left in the world that held my family's warmth.

But the sprawling green lawn was currently dominated by a massive, roaring bonfire.

I watched as my father’s handwritten journals turned to ash. I watched as my childhood photo albums curled and blackened in the intense heat.

Then, with a sickening crash, they pushed my mother’s antique grand piano into the inferno. The heavy strings snapped with a sound like a dying scream.

Amber’s face appeared on the screen, a sweet, poisonous smile on her lips.

“Oops,” she chirped. “David said I could redecorate. We needed to clear some space for a modern nursery. Hope you don't mind, Scarlet.”

The video ended.

I ripped the IV out of the back of my hand.

Blood dripped down my fingers, but I didn't care. I pulled my coat over my hospital gown and walked out.

When I arrived at the estate, the smell of smoke and burning memories choked the fresh sea breeze.

I walked through the open front doors.

Amber was standing at the top of the grand marble staircase, sipping a glass of expensive champagne.

She looked down at me, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

“You’re too late,” she said smoothly. “It’s all gone. And by the way, David legally transferred the deed of this house to my name yesterday. You have nothing left.”

I stood at the bottom of the stairs.

I looked at the woman who had taken my husband, my company, and now my family's legacy just to twist the knife.

“Why is he so blindly devoted to you?” I asked. My voice was eerily calm. “He is a ruthless man. He doesn't love easily. What did you tell him?”

Amber smirked, swirling the champagne in her glass.

“Don't you know?” she mocked. “Three years ago. The highway pileup. David was trapped in a burning wreckage.”

My blood ran cold.

“I was the one who visited him in the hospital when he woke up,” Amber continued, her smile widening into something wicked.

“I told him I was the one who dragged him out of the flames. I told him I risked my life for him.”

I was the one who had shattered the car window. I was the one who had pulled his bloody, unconscious body from the fire, nearly dying in the process.

I still had the ugly burn scars on my back to prove it.

And David believed her.

Amber waited for my reaction.

She waited for me to scream, to cry, to lunge at her in a fit of hysterical rage.

Instead, I just looked at her.

“Is that all?” I asked softly. “You built your entire life on a lie. How pathetic.”

Amber’s smug expression vanished. Infuriated that I wasn't having a breakdown, her face twisted into something ugly and desperate.

“You think you're so much better than me?” she hissed.

She grabbed a heavy crystal vase from the pedestal beside her.

She smashed it violently against the marble floor. Jagged shards of thick glass scattered everywhere.

Then, she looked past me.

The heavy front doors were opening. David was walking in.

Without a second of hesitation, Amber threw herself backward.

She tumbled down the bottom half of the grand staircase, landing hard right in the middle of the jagged crystal glass.

“David!” Amber screamed, her voice piercing and full of terror. “Help me! She pushed me! She’s trying to kill our baby!”

David rushed forward, his face pale with panic.

He scooped up the crying, bleeding Amber into his arms.

Then, he turned to me.

He raised his hand and struck me across the face.

The slap echoed sharply through the grand foyer. My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth again.

“You are a monster,” David snarled, his eyes burning with absolute hatred.

He looked at his bodyguards, who had rushed in behind him.

“Drag her down to the underground wine cellar,” he ordered. “Lock her in. Let her cool off.”

The bodyguards grabbed me roughly by the arms.

They dragged me away from the warmth of the foyer, down the narrow, stone steps into the depths of the estate.

The underground wine cellar was freezing. The damp, icy air bit into my skin instantly.

They threw me onto the cold stone floor.

I looked up as David appeared in the doorway.

“You will rot down here,” his voice echoed from the other side, dripping with disgust. “You will stay in this freezing dark until you beg Amber for mercy.”

I was plunged into absolute, freezing darkness once again.

But this time, I didn't curl up. I didn't brace for the pain.

Instead, I leaned my bruised back against the freezing stone wall.

In the pitch-black room, I slowly smiled.

Hours passed in the pitch-black underground wine cellar.

I was shivering so violently I could barely feel my own hands.

Then, the heavy iron latch clicked.

David stood in the doorway.

"The doctors just finished Amber’s surgery," he said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "The glass shredded her insides. They had to remove her uterus. She can never carry a child."

He stepped closer, his polished leather shoes stopping inches from my frozen, bare feet.

"You took her future," David sneered. "So you are going to give it back."

"What do you want?" I whispered.

"You will act as our surrogate," he demanded coldly. "You will carry my child for Amber. It is the only way you will ever repay your debt to us. If you refuse, I will keep you locked in this freezer until they carry you out in a body bag."

It was the ultimate humiliation.

Amber didn't just want to steal my husband and my home. She wanted to turn me into her personal incubator.

But there was something David didn't know.

While the nurses were changing my bandages at the hospital, Dominic had sent a file to my encrypted phone. It was Amber’s real medical history.

Amber was never pregnant. And she certainly didn't have a hysterectomy today. The glass cuts were superficial.

She was faking the tragedy to trap David completely, and to torture me.

And David, blinded by his arrogant savior complex, believed every word she said.

I didn't expose her lie.

Instead, I lowered my eyes, playing the broken, defeated wife perfectly.

"Fine," I choked out, my voice trembling. "I'll do it. Just... let me out."

"Sign the restitution contract," he ordered. "Now."

My hands shook as I reached into the deep inner pocket of my coat.

When I had called Dominic from the hospital, I hadn't just asked for an extraction. I had asked him to prepare the documents. I had folded them into my coat before I rushed to the estate.

I pulled the thick stack of papers out.

The cover page clearly read: Surrogacy and Restitution Agreement.

I handed it to him, along with a sleek silver pen—the very pen my father had gifted him on our wedding day.

Just as David took the papers, his phone buzzed.

He pulled it out. The caller ID flashed Amber's name.

"Yes, darling, I'm dealing with it now," David said, his tone instantly shifting to a sickeningly sweet coo. "I'm heading to the charity gala in ten minutes. Don't cry, I've handled her."

Annoyed by the inconvenience of standing in the freezing cellar, David didn't even bother to flip past the cover page.

With his phone pressed to his ear, David blindly scrawled his signature on the bottom line of the final page.

He tossed the papers back at me. They scattered across the freezing stone floor.

"You have one hour to pack your things and move into the servant's quarters," David said without looking back. "If you try to run, my men will break your legs."

He turned and walked up the stairs, slamming the cellar door behind him.

The moment his footsteps faded, my violent shivering stopped.

I calmly gathered the scattered papers from the floor.

I brushed the dirt off the signature line.

I pushed the heavy cellar door open. The bodyguards in the hall were gone, likely escorting David to his gala.

I walked out the back entrance of the estate, stepping into the cool night air.

A sleek, black town car was already idling in the shadows of the driveway.

Dominic stepped out, opening the back door for me. He handed me a warm cashmere blanket and a fresh cup of hot coffee.

"Are the papers signed?" Dominic asked, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter.

"Every single one," I replied, sliding into the leather seat.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. I popped the SIM card out, snapped it in half, and dropped the pieces onto the wet gravel.

"Take me to the airport," I said.

Thirty minutes later, I was walking up the steps of a private jet.

The engines roared to life, ready to carry me far away from this toxic city and the man who thought he had destroyed me.

I sat in the plush leather seat, sipping my coffee as the plane ascended into the night sky.

I looked down at the glittering city lights below.

Suddenly, my new, encrypted phone buzzed on the armrest.

A message from the PI lit up the screen.

[The medical file has been delivered to Eleanor. Here is the live feed of the gala for your viewing pleasure.]

I tapped the link.

The screen buffered for a second before filling with the grand ballroom of the Crestfall Hotel.

David was standing at the podium, smiling for the cameras, thinking he had finally put me in my place.

The camera flashes were blinding. A relentless, flashing white wall of light. Amber clung to my arm. She wore a pale silk gown.

"We're so sorry for your loss, David," a board member whispered. He squeezed my shoulder as we walked past the ice sculptures.

"Thank you, Richard," I muttered.

Amber leaned into my side. She soaked up the pity of the city’s elite, playing the brave, grieving victim flawlessly.

But I felt sick.

A gnawing, sickening unease twisted in my gut.

I pulled my phone from my tuxedo pocket. Again.

Nothing. No texts. No missed calls.

My guards were supposed to message me the second Scarlet broke.

I wanted her to scream. I wanted her to bang her fists against the heavy iron door of the wine cellar. I wanted her to beg for mercy.

But there was only dead silence.

I couldn't stop thinking about her face in the freezing dark. She hadn't cried. She hadn't fought back.

She had just signed the papers. Her eyes were dead. Her hands were perfectly calm.

It made my skin crawl.

"David?" Amber whispered, her voice trembling perfectly. "It's time."

I swallowed hard. I detached her hand.

I walked up the carpeted steps to the podium.

This was it.

I was going to publicly announce my separation from Scarlet. I was going to declare my absolute loyalty to Amber.

I gripped the edges of the podium. The microphone hummed. I looked out at the sea of reporters. Their lenses focused entirely on me.

My chest tightened. An invisible vice gripped my ribs.

Scarlet is a monster, I reminded myself. She pushed Amber. She killed your child.

I opened my mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I started. My voice sounded hollow.

The room fell silent.

"Tonight, I stand before you to announce a separation. My wife, Scarlet..."

I tried to force the words out. But the words turned to ash in my mouth. My tongue felt like lead.

Before I could speak another syllable, a deafening crash echoed through the room.

The heavy, gold-leafed double doors at the back of the ballroom slammed open.

Every head in the room snapped around.

My mother, Eleanor, stood in the doorway. She wore a sharp, blood-red pantsuit. Her posture was rigid. Her face was a mask of absolute, terrifying fury.

I braced myself. I expected her to march to the stage and scold me for the public spectacle.

She didn't even look at me.

She bypassed the stage entirely. She marched straight down the center aisle toward Amber.

Amber put on a teary-eyed smile. "Eleanor, I'm so glad—"

My mother lunged.

She grabbed a fistful of Amber’s perfectly styled hair and yanked her backward.

Amber let out a piercing shriek. Eleanor raised her hand and slapped her.

The crack echoed like a gunshot over the silent crowd.

Amber collapsed onto the polished marble floor in a tangled heap of silk.

"Mother!" I roared into the microphone.

I vaulted off the stage. I sprinted to Amber and threw myself in front of her, shielding her trembling body.

"Stop!" I yelled, my blood boiling. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"

Eleanor glared down at me. Her eyes were ice.

"Scarlet pushed her down the stairs!" I screamed. "Amber lost her baby today! She lost her uterus because of that psycho!"

Eleanor froze. She looked at me. Her eyes widened.

Then, she laughed.

It was a dark, mocking sound that chilled me straight to the bone.

"A baby?" Eleanor sneered. Her voice dripped with venomous mockery.

She reached into her designer clutch. She pulled out a thick, yellowed medical file and violently shoved it directly into my chest.

"You arrogant, blind fool!" Eleanor's voice shook the crystal chandeliers. "I funded the charity that paid for her tumor surgery fifteen years ago! She had her uterus removed when she was twelve years old! She was never pregnant!"

I froze. The heavy folder hit my chest and spilled open. Papers scattered across the polished marble floor.

I stared down at the undeniable proof.

The hospital logos. The surgical notes. The dates.

Patient: Amber Hayes. Procedure: Total Hysterectomy. Age: 12.

"David, no!" Amber stuttered. She scrambled backward on the floor, her pale silk dress dragging over the scattered records. "It's a lie! It's a forgery! Scarlet paid her to—"

Suddenly, a deafening burst of static hissed through the ballroom speakers.