It's just that now, the person standing on stage beside him is no longer her.

Whispers drifted from behind.

"The bride is gorgeous. That dress must've cost a fortune."

"The groom ordered it from Milan! And did you see her ring? He flew to South Africa and picked out the diamond himself."

Murmurs of amazement rippled through the crowd.

"But wasn't there supposed to be a different bride? Switched out at the last minute?"

The words bored into Clarissa's ears. Her nails dug deep into her palm, but she didn't feel a thing.

Ethan had always hated seeing her wronged. Whenever anyone whispered about her, he'd shut them down without a second thought.

But now—who was he holding? Who was he gazing at so tenderly?

Wait.

Her eyes locked onto Nina.

The pink diamond Ethan gave her—she'd kept it safe. So what was that ring on Nina's finger?

He must have heard the chatter below, because his gaze swept over—casual, deliberate.

"Don't spread rumors."

In front of everyone, he lifted Nina's hand.

"This is the only pink diamond I found."

"Anything else out there?" A pause. "Probably glass."

The hall erupted.

Clarissa thought she'd misheard.

The "Heart of True Love" she'd treasured like a priceless gem—glass?

The stage lights blazed too bright. Tears spilled before she even realized.

She rose to leave, but Nina blocked her path, wineglass in hand.

That harmless smile. "Clarissa, I thought you wouldn't come. Our wedding would've been incomplete without you."

Clarissa's laugh was cold. "You sent that invitation just to gloat, didn't you?"

"What's wrong—afraid your little family reunion doesn't have enough of an audience?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but the entire hall went silent.

Nina's grip on the wineglass tightened. She leaned closer, voice dropping. "He and I share a mother, Clarissa. You'll never compete with that."

"Besides," contempt flickered beneath Nina's smile, "you've only kept him around by guilt-tripping him over healing his hand."

"All these years you've had him trapped—don't tell me you actually thought he loved you."

"Oh, and one more thing." Her smile sharpened. "Your miscarriage wasn't an accident."

Something inside Clarissa snapped.

Her voice shook. "What did you say?"

Before she could even reach for Nina, Nina pitched backward.

She crashed into the champagne tower a server had just wheeled over—glass shattering, shards scattering across the floor.

"Nina!"

Ethan vaulted off the stage.

That face—always so composed—was now twisted with panic.

He looked up, eyes bloodshot, and glared at Clarissa.

"What the hell did you do?"

He helped Nina up gently. She was a mess—palm sliced open, blood welling through the cuts.

A single tear slid down Nina's cheek. "Clarissa, I only wanted your blessing. If you couldn't give it, fine—but why push me?"

Ethan closed the distance in one stride. His hand clamped around Clarissa's wrist, grinding the bone.

The same face she knew so well—but the expression was foreign. Terrifying.

His voice turned to ice. "Apologize."

Nina's words still echoed in her skull.

A few months ago, Clarissa had welcomed their first child with indescribable joy.

Then she'd lost it.

She'd blamed herself—the overtime, the irregular hours, the chemical exposure in the lab.

She'd cried all night, drowning in guilt.

It never occurred to her there could be another reason.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she met his eyes and spoke, word by word:

"Ethan. Was my miscarriage really an accident?"

Panic flickered across his face.

"What nonsense is this? I don't even know you!"

"Tell me!"

She grabbed his collar. In the struggle, her hand connected with his cheek—a sharp, ringing slap.

The room went silent.

He stared at her in disbelief. When had anyone ever humiliated him like this?

"You've lost your mind. Who would want a child with a woman like you?" His voice turned cold. "Get this lunatic out of here!"

He waved his hand. She lost her balance and slammed into the corner of a table. Blood ran down her forehead.

She didn't feel the pain. She laughed instead—laughed until tears spilled over.

No wonder he hadn't looked sad when she miscarried. He'd only said, with that calm face:

"You're still young. There will be other children."

So he'd never wanted their baby at all. He'd killed it with his own hands.

Looking at her ashen face, Ethan felt something twist in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak—

Security arrived.

She let them haul her up like a puppet, her body slack, her eyes vacant.

"Ethan, my hand hurts so much…"

Nina's voice came from behind him.

He stopped mid-step. Turned around.

"Hurry and bandage it. The wedding has to continue."

Nina wasn't about to waste this chance.

He shoved down the inexplicable unease clawing at him and fixed his attention on her. He'd almost forgotten—today's main characters were him and Nina.

As for Clarissa, she could calm down first.

They threw her out like trash.

Even her glasses were smashed.

She picked them up, wiped the lenses, and raised her eyes to the sky. Gray-white, like her heart.

There had once been a piece of flesh growing on that heart—a piece called Ethan Vance. Now it had rotted through.

Time to cut it out.

Her phone buzzed. A calendar reminder: the closed experiment was about to begin.

This phase had been designed specifically to develop treatment for Ethan's hand condition. Cases like his—psychologically induced—were rare. She'd never been able to gather enough volunteers for drug trials, so she'd been stuck running animal tests.

This wedding was a reminder. Maybe it was time to shift her research direction.

After all, research was her livelihood. The love affairs needed to be set aside.

Sterling's proposal deserved serious thought.

Her advisor texted, urging her back to the lab.

She replied: There's one last thing. After that, I'll officially start the experiment.

She took a cab to the cemetery.

Her child was buried there—the one who'd never taken shape. The last bond between her and Ethan.

She was going to say goodbye. To the baby. To the past fifteen years.

The sky darkened. Cold evening wind cut across her face, icy and damp. She climbed hundreds of steps, her legs growing heavier with each one.

The headstone had no name. No photo.

The urn beneath it was pitifully small. When they'd cremated the remains, that handful of ashes hadn't even filled her palm.

"Baby, Mommy's so sorry."

She lowered her head, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "But maybe it's for the best. A child who isn't loved shouldn't come into this world anyway."

At some point, rain began to fall.

The downpour blurred the horizon into a single gray line, dragging Clarissa back to another rainy day six months ago.

She'd just found out she was pregnant.

She'd rushed to Ethan's studio, bursting to tell him the news.

But when she pushed open the door, his face was flushed—flustered, even. She'd been too excited to notice.

There'd been a woman's coat draped over the sofa. Ethan said Henry had left it behind.

Only now did she remember—Henry never wore colors that bright.

Nina had been in that room the whole time.

While Clarissa clung to Ethan, gushing about their future as a family of three, Nina must have been hiding somewhere, laughing at her.

Laughter echoed through the cemetery, snapping her back to the present.

Clarissa looked up and froze.

"Auntie, look who I brought!" Nina's voice rang out, saccharine-sweet. "It's your son Ethan! He's forgiven you." She smiled shyly and flashed the massive ring at the headstone. "We got married today!"

"Ethan." Nina tugged at his sleeve. "Call her Mom. She'll be so happy to hear it."

"Mom…"

The word left his lips like it cost him something.

Nina practically bounced with joy.

"Auntie—no, wait." She blushed. "I should call you Mom now too. I'll take care of Ethan from now on. You can rest easy."

In the silent cemetery, their laughter drove into Clarissa's chest like needles.

For years, Margaret Vance's name had been Ethan's absolute taboo. No one dared mention her—not even Clarissa.

Yet Nina had gotten him here. Made him say that word.

All those years of pain so sharp it drove Clarissa to hurt herself. All those sleepless nights.

As if they'd never happened.

She brushed the dust from her clothes and took one last look at the headstone.

She was about to leave when—

"Clarissa! Why are you here?"

Nina clung to Ethan's arm, eyes wide with fake surprise, smugness barely concealed beneath. "Were you following us?"

Ethan's voice cut through the rain, ice-cold.

Clarissa should have felt angry. Hurt. But she felt nothing.

She wasn't in the mood to tangle with this newlywed couple. Her scene at the wedding had accomplished nothing—Ethan only had eyes for Nina now.

She didn't bother looking up.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm visiting an old acquaintance."

"What old acquaintance? Since we're all here, why don't we pay our respects together—for the baby's sake…"

Nina trailed off at the perfect moment, gazing sweetly up at Ethan.

The numbness in Clarissa's chest shattered.

She was mourning their child. And they already had a new one.

She fought to keep her voice steady.

"No. You're not worthy."

Nina's smile froze. Her eyes reddened on cue.

"Ungrateful!" Ethan snapped. "I still haven't dealt with you for bullying Nina at the wedding. She's being gracious, offering to pay respects together—and you're deliberately attacking her?"