### Chapter 3

Melanie's smile only deepened. "You think he'll believe you, or me? Want to put it to the test?"

And with that she snatched up the pot of boiling water beside her and flung it straight at me.

I never expected the woman to lose her mind like that. There was no time to dodge. The scalding water poured across my leg.

The heat was so vicious I could barely stay on my feet, and in an instant the skin bubbled into a row of blisters.

That was when Cyril walked in through the door.

"Julie, what happened?!"

"I don't know how it happened. She grabbed the hot water and poured it over herself."

Melanie's eyes went red, her voice trembling.

The pain stole my words, but I watched the alarm in Cyril's eyes cool, degree by degree.

"You're still not done playing the martyr?" His voice dropped low. "Let me guess. You're about to say Melanie threw it on you?"

"If you don't believe me, check the cameras."

I forced the words out through the pain.

Melanie broke into soft sobs. "My fingers got scalded. It hurts so much."

She lifted her hand. There was nothing on her fingertip but one tiny, insignificant red dot.

Cyril pulled her into his arms anyway, and when he turned back to me, his eyes nearly spat fire.

"Are you out of your mind? Are you trying to kill her?!"

"If I could, I wouldn't hesitate." My voice shook, but it held.

He froze. Seven years together, five years married, and he had never once heard me talk back. Every time we fought, I was the one who apologized first. Not anymore.

The disgust in his eyes thickened. "Julie, when did you turn this vicious? Look at yourself. Look how ugly jealousy makes you."

"Let it go, Cyril." Melanie's eyes brimmed with tears, her face all wounded innocence. "Maybe my sister didn't mean to. Don't fight over me..."

Cyril bent his head and kissed her fingers, as if kissing something fragile and precious, his own eyes red with the ache of it.

"You silly girl. It's because you're too kind that she keeps hurting you."

My pulse lurched, and a knot of fury swelled in my chest, ready to burst.

"Kind? You think I don't know how I lost my womb? Cyril, this is your doing, all of you!"

A flicker of panic and guilt crossed his eyes. His mouth opened as if to say something, then shut tight.

After a long moment, he said quietly,

"If I'd asked you, you'd never have agreed. This was the only way."

My breath felt as though an invisible hand had closed around it.

"So you admit it. You got her pregnant, and for her sake you made sure I could never be a mother!"

He looked away. "Melanie agreed to give you the baby once it's born. You can still be a mother."

I screamed at him, wild and ragged. "Keep dreaming. I will never raise this woman's child!"

Melanie's tears spilled down in streams, and she broke into great sobs against Cyril's chest.

"It's all my fault. On my birthday I got drunk, and I confessed by accident, and Cyril and I... Stop fighting, please. I'll just get rid of the baby."

But Cyril only held her tighter, glaring at me with disappointment.

"Melanie only wanted one birthday wish. What did she do wrong? You've already taken everything from her, and now you want to drive her to her death? If you ask me, that miscarriage was exactly what you deserved!"

I couldn't believe he could say something so cruel to me.

The blood froze in my veins, the room tilted around me, and I caught the edge of the bar behind me just to keep from falling.

Footsteps came from the doorway.

My mother rushed in and threw her arms around Melanie. "Did this ungrateful wretch bully you again? Sweetheart, is the baby all right?"

My father's gaze landed on me, hard.

"Julie, you couldn't even spare an unborn child? I truly regret bringing you back."

In that instant I felt myself burning, breaking apart, my lips trembling so hard I could barely speak.

"So you all knew... knew they were having an affair, knew about the baby, and every one of you kept it from me?!"

### Chapter 4

My father's brow didn't even twitch.

"This is what you owe Melanie."

My mother let out a heavy sigh.

"You know perfectly well your sister's uterine lining is too thin. She may only ever carry one child in her whole life. And instead of supporting her, you hurt her."

"So you just stood back and let the doctor take my womb!" The last of my strength gave out and I slid to the floor, hid my face in my hands, and sobbed.

I had once walked away from the adoptive parents who cherished me for the sake of that blood tie, and in the end, what this "family" gave me wasn't happiness. It was this.

I was such a fool.

"Enough." Cyril rubbed at his temple and called for the housekeeper. "Tear down the nursery."

My head snapped up.

"What are you doing?!"

That nursery was mine. I had chosen every detail of it, designed and arranged each one with my own hands.

I'd worn myself out trekking through store after store, agonizing over the color of the wallpaper, the weight of the curtains, the shape of the cradle. The last small piece of my child I had left, and he wanted to destroy even that?

"Melanie's due in six months. The room needs to be redone."

There was a warning in the way he looked at me. "She hasn't been well since the pregnancy. As of today she's moving in to live with us. I hope the two of you can get along."

Melanie bit her lip and spoke in a small, timid voice.

"If my sister would rather I didn't, I can take the baby and live with Mom and Dad."

"No. I won't rest easy unless I'm the one looking after you." There was no room for negotiation in Cyril's tone. "The Weiss heir deserves the best possible environment to grow up in."

Over his shoulder, Melanie shot me a glance, and a smug little smile crossed her face.

The housekeeper went off at once to arrange for the nursery to be torn down.

I sat where I was, dazed, and watched them gather around Melanie and lead her off to the hospital, to have a look at that "injured finger" of hers that already barely showed a mark.

The burn on my leg was still raging. My heart had gone numb.

My tears stopped.

I remembered something my adoptive mother once told me.

"Tears are only ever a weapon bad people use to hurt you. You have to learn to brew them into poison and feed it to them with a smile."

She was right. I would never let my tears be a letter of surrender again.

I stood up, looked coldly at the enormous wedding portrait hanging in the living room, picked up a bottle of Lafite, and hurled it. The frame came down and shattered to pieces.

Then I shredded every photo of us in the house and smashed seven years' worth of keepsakes into fragments.

I called for the maid and gave my instructions calmly.

"Fiona, clean this up. These bags, and this jewelry, they're all yours."

"Ma'am, your leg..." Fiona's voice trembled as she looked at the blisters covering my foot. "Let me see to it for you."

She was probably the only person left in this house who felt any pity for me.

Eyes red, she dabbed on the ointment in silence, and again pressed me to go to the hospital.

But I was so tired. I shook my head, curled into the bed, and sank into a heavy sleep.

When I woke again, it was somehow already the next day.

I had just finished washing up when Cyril's voice came from behind me. "Julie."

Looking at my worn, hunched figure, he reached out to touch my hair. I turned my head away.

His hand froze in midair.

"Don't worry. Melanie moving in doesn't change the fact that you're my wife."

I blinked, my eyes dry. "Fine. I'll get along with her."

"You agree?" He sounded a little surprised.

"Why wouldn't I?" I answered evenly. "I can't have children anymore. But I still want to be a mother."

He seemed quite pleased with that answer.

"I'm glad you've finally come around. Does your leg still hurt?"

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. My brother, Lucas Henson, walked in, Melanie trailing behind him.

Lucas fixed Cyril with a hard look. "I trust you'll take care of my sister and my nephew. I'd hate for her to be hurt by certain people in this house."

Then that cold, cutting gaze landed on my face.

Cyril frowned slightly. "Relax. Julie's already agreed to get along with Melanie."

Melanie gave me a timid little glance, and Lucas immediately pulled her into the crook of his arm, his voice impossibly gentle.

"If someone dares to bully you again, you call me. Mom, Dad, and I will always be on your side."

Melanie shook her head.

"It's all right. My sister doesn't like me, but for the baby's sake, I can put up with anything."

Cyril stroked her hair and swore, "With me here, no one's going to bully you."

What a touching picture.

My mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

From my husband to my own family, every last one of them lavished pity on her, no questions asked. And I was forever the one in the wrong.

A dry, cold laugh forced its way up my throat.

"That's right. I'm the woman who's always hurting people, the mistress who seduces other women's husbands and even bears their children."

"And the precious daughter you Hensons raised is as pure and innocent as a white lotus!"

### Chapter 5

Lucas's face went dark in an instant, his gaze raking across mine like a blade.

"Shut your mouth. Getting to come back to the Hensons at all is more luck than you deserve. And after you came crawling back here with no shame, do you have any idea how much Melanie has suffered?"

He stared at me, biting off every word.

"Even if she made a mistake, you're the one who pushed her into it."

I couldn't help laughing.

Seven years. I'd long since stopped counting the times Melanie had framed me, hurt me.

It wasn't that our parents didn't know the truth. They just always said, "Melanie's only afraid you'll steal our love away. Be the bigger person about it."

No one ever asked about what I'd suffered. So I was the bigger person, year after year.

Back then, only Cyril would wipe my tears. He was the one who demanded Melanie apologize, the one who told me, "I've got you."

And in the end, even he crossed over to her side.

Hearing Lucas, Cyril's expression flickered with something complicated, but he didn't argue in the end.

He only looked at me, his voice low. "We were all drunk that night. You can't seriously expect Melanie to get rid of the baby and lose any chance of having children for the rest of her life."

So instead, you made sure I'd never have children.

"I just want to take care of her until the baby comes. Stop making a scene."

So you took such tender care of her that you kept ending up in her bed.

Melanie's tears spilled over at once, her body trembling faintly.

"Sis... I'm so sorry. None of this was ever meant to happen, I swear."

Lucas cut her off immediately.

"You did nothing wrong. She's the one in the wrong, petty as always."

"Don't cry. The diamond crown I had made for you is finished. Let's go see it. I promise that in three days my little sister will be the most beautiful bride there is."

Cyril glanced at me and offered a careless explanation. "The wedding is just a formality. Melanie isn't going to take anything from you."

Then the two of them gathered Melanie up and swept her out.

At the door, Lucas turned back and tossed out one last warning.

"Bully Melanie again and you can get out of the Hensons. Go back and live the 'good life' with those crippled beggars you call parents."

Whatever they said, my heart no longer ached. I looked back at them, cold.

"Then try me. I'll make you regret it."

Before he or Cyril could say another word, I slammed the door.

In the mirror, my face was still pale, dark circles of exhaustion under my eyes, but the expression on it was calmer than it had ever been.

I started packing my things.

These seven years of memories. I didn't want a single one of them.

Then I dialed my adoptive father's number and said quietly, "Dad, I'm ready to come home."

"Really?" His voice was thick with worry. "Sweetheart, have they been hurting you?"

"I was wrong, Dad. I'll come home, take over the Delgados, and marry Edwin."

Crippled beggars. That was what Cyril and the Hensons thought of the people who'd raised me—broke, useless, leaving me nowhere to run. They had no idea those crippled beggars were the quiet hand that ran the Delgados' multi-billion empire across all of Harbor City.

"That's wonderful. I'll tell your mother the good news right away," he said. "When will you be home?"

"Edwin is coming for me in three days. Then we'll hold the wedding."

"What wedding?"

A man's voice came from behind me, sudden.

I turned. Cyril was standing in the doorway.