When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing that hit me was the ceiling.

It wasn’t mine.

The white was too clean, too sterile—bright enough to sting. For a second, I just stared, disoriented, and then my heart slammed against my ribs as I jolted upright.

Pain tore through my body like lightning.

I hissed, clutching at the sheets as panic rose so fast it nearly choked me.

Where… where was I?

“Ma’am, please.” A gentle voice cut through the silence.

I snapped my head to the side and saw a maid standing near the corner of the room, hands folded neatly in front of her.

“You need to lie back down,” she said softly. “You’re still injured.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket. “Where am I?” My voice came out hoarse, cracking with fear. “Where did you bring me? And—my baby.” My breath hitched. “Where’s my baby? Tell me!”

The maid’s lips parted like she wanted to answer—

But a low laugh rolled in from the doorway, slow and mocking.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Vivienne. Relax. You’re not in danger anymore.”

My blood went ice-cold.

That voice.

I turned, slowly, like my body already knew what my mind didn’t want to accept.

And then I saw him.

“Inigo…” I breathed.

He was leaning against the doorframe like he owned the air in the room—arms crossed, eyes full of amusement, that smug, arrogant smirk on his face like it had been carved there since high school.

Of all people.

It had to be him.

My rival. My enemy. The one person who’d made my life a competition in every possible way—academics, sports, reputation, even our families’ expectations.

Our fathers had once been close business partners. There had even been talk of engagement years ago.

I’d refused.

I’d hated him too much to even consider it.

And now here he was, standing over me like fate was playing the cruelest joke.

I swallowed hard. “Why am I here?” I demanded, voice shaking. “What am I doing in your house?”

Inigo pushed off the frame and strolled in, unhurried, eyes gleaming. “Because you crashed into my car,” he said easily. “And I saved you.”

“My… my baby.” My hands flew to my stomach.

He answered without missing a beat. “Safe. The baby’s fine.”

Then his gaze sharpened slightly. “But you? You’re a mess.” His mouth curved. “After what you overheard tonight… your dear husband being a traitor and all.”

I glared at him, throat tightening. “That has nothing to do with you.”

Inigo chuckled, dark and entertained. “Oh, it has everything to do with me.” He tilted his head. “Here’s a thought—divorce him. Then marry me. You should’ve done it in the first place.”

The nerve.

Heat rushed through my veins. “No!” I snapped. “Absolutely not. I’d rather die. I hate you.”

His grin widened, completely unbothered. “Still got that temper.” His eyes swept over me with lazy approval. “That’s what I like about you.”

Then he snapped his fingers.

The maid immediately turned on the television mounted on the wall.

My breath stopped.

On the screen, Valeria stood smiling for the cameras, her hand linked with Darian’s like they were some perfect couple in a romance drama.

The headline beneath them made my stomach twist:

Love is sweeter the second time around.

So this was the truth.

This was why I’d been hidden away like some shameful secret. Why there were no anniversaries worth celebrating, no public appearances, no pride in calling me his wife.

He hadn’t wanted a wife.

He’d wanted a placeholder.

Someone to keep things steady while he waited for her to come back.

The fight drained out of me all at once, leaving nothing but exhaustion and something sharp and steady underneath it.

I let out a shaky breath. “Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll marry you.”

The words felt poisonous in my mouth, but my chest burned with determination.

Inigo’s brow lifted.

“But first,” I continued, forcing myself to stay calm, “I need to go home. I need to settle things properly.” I met his eyes. “Come back for me in four days.”

He studied me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing.

Then his smirk returned. “Done.”

A few hours later, a limousine drove me back.

The windows were tinted, hiding my face from the outside world, but my heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe.

As the gates of the Smith mansion came into view, I gripped the seat until my knuckles turned white.

The car rolled to a stop.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Darian.

He was already storming down the front steps, fury written all over him.

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked. “I’ve been calling you nonstop!” His gaze snapped to the limo. “And whose car is that?”

My lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. “Nobody’s.”

“Nobody’s?” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re cheating on me.”

A bitter laugh ripped out of me. “Cheating?” I repeated. “Me?”

His jaw tightened. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re acting like this because our anniversary didn’t happen? I told you I was busy.”

“Busy doing what?” I shot back, voice trembling with rage.

Before he could answer, a soft sob floated through the doorway.

We both turned.

Valeria stood there with tears running down her cheeks, holding a bouquet of flowers like she was the victim in this story.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Are you two arguing because of me? I shouldn’t have come back, but… I just wanted to confess. I wanted to apologize. About your mother.” She swallowed. “I know the timing is wrong.”

My eyes dropped to her neck.

And my entire body went still.

The necklace.

The Audrey Hepburn gold set.

The one I’d put on. The one Darian had ripped from me like I was dirt.

It was glowing against Valeria’s skin.

Something inside me snapped.

“You ruined my mother!” I spat, stepping forward. “And you think saying sorry makes it okay?”

Valeria reached for me. “Vivienne, please—”

I slapped her hand away so hard the sound echoed.

She stumbled back, almost falling.

“Vivienne!” Darian thundered, rushing to catch her. His face twisted in fury. “Have you lost your mind? She came here to apologize, and you dare lay hands on her?”

Tears blurred my vision, but my voice didn’t break.

“I don’t want her apology!” I cried. “She’s disgusting! She’s evil!” I turned on him, shaking. “You promised me. You swore you would make her pay. So why is she here? Why are you protecting her?”

“Enough!” Darian snapped.

His eyes were sharp, cold, full of contempt.

“I’ve known her longer than I’ve known you,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve your hatred.” He stepped closer, voice turning hard. “Apologize.”

I shook my head. “No.”

His expression darkened, and his voice dropped into something quiet and deadly.

“If you refuse,” he said, “I’ll pull your mother’s life support.”

My heart stopped.

My whole body went numb.

“You…” My voice came out broken. “You’d kill my mother… for her?”

Darian didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

One single word.

Cold. Absolute. Merciless.

Then he leaned closer, eyes gleaming with cruelty. “So kneel. Right now. And kiss her shoes.”

Valeria gasped, eyes wide. “Darian, no—there’s no need—”

But Darian shot her a look that shut her up instantly.

Tears spilled down my face as my knees gave out.

Humiliation burned through me like acid, searing every nerve.

Slowly—so slowly it felt like dying—I lowered myself to the marble floor.

Then I bent forward and pressed my lips to Valeria’s shoes.

Darian looked satisfied.

Like he’d just won something.

He wrapped an arm around Valeria and led her away, leaving me behind like discarded trash.

Alone.

I pressed my fists against my chest and sobbed until my whole body shook.

But even while I broke apart, something inside me hardened.

Four days.

Just four more days.

And I’d be gone.

No one would ever get to hurt me again.

I wiped my face, forced myself to stand, and staggered back to my room.

My hands were trembling when I grabbed my phone.

But when the call finally connected, my voice was steady.

“Hello?”

“This is Vivienne Smith,” I whispered. “I want to file for divorce. Prepare the papers.”

“I want a divorce from Darian Smith,” I whispered into the phone, gripping it so hard my fingers went numb. “Draw up the papers.”

On the other end, my lawyer let out a long breath, the kind that carried warning and pity all at once. “Vivienne… you know you can’t. What about your mother? She’s still receiving treatment in the hospital Darian pays for. If you leave him now, she’ll be cut off. She won’t survive.”

My throat burned, but I forced my voice to stay steady. “Then I’ll move her. Immediately. I’ll spend every last cent I have left if that’s what it takes.”

“Vivienne—”

“No.” I cut him off, my tone sharper than I’d ever used with anyone. “Nobody is stopping me. File the divorce.”

I swallowed, then added, each word deliberate. “But don’t send it yet. Deliver the papers on the day the investors sign. The same day as the design proposal. That’s when I want Darian to see it.”

A pause.

Then my lawyer spoke again, reluctant but resigned. “Understood.”

I hung up before my courage could crack.

My legs felt unsteady as I stood and walked to the closet. Then I started moving—fast, mechanical, like if I slowed down even for a second, I’d fall apart.

I tore dresses off hangers and shoved them into a suitcase. I grabbed whatever I could reach—shirts, coats, shoes—and threw them in without folding.

Then I went for the jewelry.

The pieces Darian had bought over the years, just enough to make me believe he cared, just enough to keep me obedient.

I swept them into the trash.

Every last one.

I wanted nothing from him. Nothing that would keep me chained.

I was about to rip the framed photo from the shelf—the picture from our so-called “wedding day,” which had really just been us signing papers in his office, no ceremony, no vows, no love—

When the door flew open.

Darian walked in like he owned the air in the room, not bothering to knock.

“Cook,” he said flatly. “We’ve got guests coming tonight.”

I turned to face him, my jaw clenched. “I don’t feel well.”

His eyes narrowed. “Stop with the excuses. You’re doing it.”

Before I could say another word, he placed a firm hand on my shoulder and shoved me toward the hallway.

I stumbled, catching myself at the doorframe, my face burning with humiliation.

As always, my voice meant nothing.

That evening, the mansion filled with noise.

Laughter floated from the living room. Crystal glasses clinked. Expensive heels clicked across the marble floors while champagne poured like water.

And I stood in the kitchen, apron tied around my waist, plating food like a servant in my own home.

When I finally carried a tray out, my arms trembling under the weight, the room went quiet for a heartbeat.

People turned.

A tall man with a sleek smile glanced at me and asked casually, “Who’s that?”

Darian didn’t hesitate.

“My new maid,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A few people laughed.

The sound rang in my ears until it felt like I couldn’t hear anything else.

“She looks familiar,” someone else said. “Wasn’t she the one who tried to destroy Valeria’s reputation years ago? The one who went on TV and accused her?”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” a woman giggled. “Darian took her in as a maid. How generous. How merciful.”

More laughter.

It crashed over me like a wave, heavy and suffocating.

I tightened my grip on the tray until my knuckles ached, forcing myself not to shake.

Valeria sat beside Darian, elegant and radiant, like she belonged there. Her smile was soft, almost angelic—yet her eyes glittered with triumph.

“Please,” she said sweetly. “Don’t ridicule her.” She pressed a hand to her chest as if she were deeply wounded. “This is my fault. I caused her family pain, and I’ll always carry that guilt. But she’s been so gracious… she forgave me.”

She tilted her head, voice turning even gentler. “And I promise I’ll help with her mother’s treatment too. She shouldn’t suffer anymore.”

The room erupted in applause.

“Then she should be grateful,” a woman sneered. “She should kiss Valeria’s feet. Thank her properly.”

My vision swam.

But I didn’t move.

I stood there, frozen, staring past them, through them, into nothing. I didn’t respond to the laughter, the whispers, the insults.

I simply turned and walked away.

Behind me, the party noise resumed like I’d never existed.

The moment I stepped into the hall, Darian followed.

He slammed the door shut behind us.

His voice was cold enough to cut skin. “What the hell was that? They were talking to you, and you just walked off?”

I spun around, the last thread of control snapping. “They were humiliating me, Darian! Can’t you see what you’ve turned me into?”

He scoffed. “So dramatic. Always acting.” His eyes were hard. “Do you think I enjoy doing this? Do you think I want you paraded like that?”

He stepped closer, his tone shifting into something sickly calm. “I’m doing it for you. If I don’t keep Valeria close, she’ll come after you. She’ll hurt you. Or your mother. Everything I’m doing is to protect you.”

Gaslighting.

Always.

I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. “No,” I whispered. “You’re doing it for yourself. For her.”

He opened his mouth to answer—

And then a scream tore through the house.

Glass shattered.

The laughter outside twisted into panic.

“Poison!” someone yelled. “The food—something’s wrong!”

My blood turned to ice as I rushed back into the living room.

Chaos had erupted.

Guests were doubled over, clutching their stomachs, faces drained of color. One woman collapsed onto the floor and vomited violently.

And then Valeria herself bent forward, retching, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Every head turned.

Every eye locked onto me.

The whispers started instantly—fast, vicious, unstoppable.

It was her.

The maid.

The wife.

She poisoned the food.

Within minutes, sirens howled outside. Ambulances arrived. The guests were rushed out in a frenzy.

And just like that, I was in a hospital again.

Bright lights. White walls. The same sterile smell.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I stood in the corridor, mind spinning.

Darian cornered me, his anger radiating off him like heat.

“Did you do it?” he demanded, his face twisted with rage.

I shook my head so hard it hurt. “No! Why would I poison them? Why would I hurt anyone? Darian, I didn’t—”

“Liar!” he roared, and the sound echoed down the hallway.

“You wanted revenge,” he snarled. “You wanted to embarrass me in front of my investors. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I swear to you, I didn’t—”

I didn’t even get to finish.

His palm slammed across my face.

The impact sent me stumbling into the cold hospital wall, pain exploding across my cheek.

“Hit her again,” he barked to the men standing nearby. “Teach her what happens when she forgets her place.”

And then the beating started.

Fists. Boots. Blows that came too fast to count.

I curled inward, trying to protect my stomach, trying to shield the tiny life inside me, but the pain didn’t stop. It didn’t slow.

It only got worse.

Until everything went black.

When I woke up, my entire body screamed.

My lips were swollen. My ribs ached with every shallow breath. Blood had dried on my skin, sticky and dark.

My voice came out as nothing but a rasp.

“My baby…” I whispered. “Where’s my baby?”

The nurse standing nearby looked at me with wet eyes, clutching her clipboard to her chest like she needed it to hold herself together.

Her lips trembled before she finally spoke, soft and heavy—like a bell at a funeral.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” she said. “The baby… didn’t survive.”

The nurse’s eyes shone with pity as she hugged her clipboard to her chest. Her mouth quivered before she finally spoke, her voice quiet—yet it landed like a death knell.

“I’m sorry, ma’am… the baby is gone.”

The sentence sliced straight through me.

My lungs locked. My chest tightened until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. My throat burned, but no scream came out. I only stared, frozen, as if my body refused to accept what my mind had just heard.

Then my hands moved on their own.

They flew to my stomach, clutching desperately, as though I could still find the warmth of the life that had been there only hours ago.

But there was nothing.

Empty.

My baby—my last fragile thread of hope—was gone.

Not because of an accident.

Not because of fate.

Because of them.

Because of Darian.

Because of the cruelty of the man I had once called my husband.

I never asked for this.

I never wanted to lose my child. I had swallowed humiliation after humiliation, endured the insults, the manipulation, the endless gaslighting, because I thought I could at least keep my baby safe.

I thought that if I held on long enough, if I stayed quiet long enough, if I suffered enough… then at least my child would survive.

But now?

Everything was gone.

And the worst part was, even if I hated Darian with every piece of my soul, the baby was not him.

The baby was mine.

A part of me.

A heartbeat.

A life.

And no matter how broken I was, I never wanted that life to be taken from me.

My hands trembled against my stomach as if my palms could somehow undo what had happened. My lips shook, and the words that fell out were so small they barely sounded like speech.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should’ve protected you. I should’ve fought harder. Please… forgive me.”

Hot tears slid down my face as guilt swallowed me whole.

It wasn’t fair.

My baby had done nothing wrong—yet paid the price for the monsters surrounding me.

The door creaked open.

I looked up.

Darian walked in.

His face was blank, unreadable, like he’d stepped into the room to discuss paperwork instead of the fact that I had just lost my child. His gaze flicked to the nurse for a second, then settled on me with cold indifference.

“You need to get yourself together,” he said flatly. “There’s going to be a press conference. You’ll apologize publicly.”

I stared at him as if I hadn’t heard correctly. My lips parted, trembling. “Apologize…?” My voice came out broken. “Why would I apologize when I didn’t do anything?”

“You did,” he snapped. “You were responsible for the food.”

“No!” I choked out. “It wasn’t me! The maid cooked it. I only served the plates. I would never poison anyone—never!”

Darian’s jaw tightened. His eyes darkened, sharp with rage. “I don’t care,” he said. “The guests are already preparing to sue. If you don’t clean up this mess, they’ll send you to prison.”

My whole body shook. My voice dropped into a cracked whisper. “I lost my baby because of you.” Tears spilled again. “I was pregnant, Darian. Pregnant. And now I—”

He cut me off with a scoff.

“So what?” he said, like my grief was an inconvenience. “It was just a baby. Don’t use that to manipulate me.”

His words were poison, each one stripping away whatever was left inside my chest.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice until it was only for me.

“If you refuse again,” he murmured, breath cold against my ear, “then I’ll have to kill your mother. Or your brother. Do you want that?”

My body went numb.

He always knew where to strike.

My mother.

Inigo.

The only people I was still trying to protect.

A long, defeated breath slipped out of me. My eyes closed for a second, and when I opened them again, there was nothing left to fight with.

“Fine,” I whispered.

Not long after, a maid entered carrying a plain dress and a compact of powder. She didn’t look at me with sympathy. Only obedience. Only duty.

They pulled me to my feet and forced me in front of a mirror.

A comb dragged through my hair too roughly.

Powder was dabbed over my bruises, over the swelling, over the marks on my face as if makeup could erase what Darian had done.

But no matter how much they tried to fix me, the woman staring back didn’t look like a wife.

She looked like a ghost.

My dress was lifeless. My eyes were swollen. My body looked fragile, hollow, ruined.

I didn’t look human anymore.

I looked like someone who had already died and simply hadn’t stopped walking yet.

When I was pushed onto the stage at the press conference, dozens of cameras flashed in my face like knives. Reporters whispered to each other, hungry and eager, waiting for me to break.

A paper sat in my shaking hands.

Darian’s script.

My throat felt scraped raw, but I forced the words out anyway, reading aloud like a puppet.

“I… I want to apologize for what happened at the dinner party. It was my fault. I should have been more careful. I never intended to hurt anyone. I take full responsibility.” My voice cracked. “Please… please don’t send me to jail. I’m begging you.”

The room erupted.

Questions flew at me.

Laughter.

Judgment.

Disgust.

I lowered my head, biting my lip until I tasted blood. Tears blurred the letters, but I forced myself to finish.

Because if I didn’t…

My mother would die.

My brother would die.

When I finally stepped away from the podium, it was already done.

The damage was permanent.

The whispers followed me like blades scraping against my skin.

She’s the culprit.

She tried to poison them.

She should be grateful Valeria forgave her.

By the time I returned to the mansion that evening, I felt like I was walking through a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

I stepped into the living room—

And froze.

Valeria was sitting comfortably on the sofa, sipping tea like she belonged there. Like the house was hers. Like I was the intruder.

She looked up and smiled warmly, her eyes dripping with fake kindness.

“Vivienne,” she said, standing as if she was welcoming me home. “Thank you for what you did today. I know it must have been difficult, but it was for the best.”

Her voice turned even softer, sweet as honey.

“Don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can to make sure your mother is well taken care of.”

Her words stabbed deeper than anything else.

I should have screamed.

I should have lunged at her.

I should have ripped that smile off her face.

But I had no strength left.

All the rage, all the grief, all the pain—everything inside me had been drained until there was only emptiness.

Instead, I lifted my hand slowly to my finger.

The wedding band.

Darian’s ring.

The ring I’d once worn like it meant something, like it proved I mattered.

Like it made me his.

With steady hands, I slid it off.

Then I stepped forward and placed it into Valeria’s palm.

Her eyes widened, shocked.

I looked her straight in the face, even as tears threatened to spill again.

“Don’t worry,” I said quietly. “You won’t have to think about me anymore.”

Valeria blinked. “Vivienne…”

My lips curved into a bitter smile.

“Because you’re never going to see me again.”

She stared at me, stunned.

I held her gaze for one last heartbeat.

“Enjoy being the wife,” I said.

Then I turned around and walked away—

Leaving behind the final piece of myself I had ever handed to Darian Smith.