### 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.

### Chapter 6

My heart lurched, and before I knew it my fingers had tightened around the phone.

"What wedding were you just talking about?" Cyril stepped closer, eyes fixed on me.

"A friend of mine is getting married. She invited me."

The breath went out of him visibly, and the look he gave me softened. "Julie, I promise, my wedding with Melanie won't change anything. The place of Mrs. Weiss is yours forever."

I lowered my lashes so he wouldn't see what was churning underneath, and asked quietly, "Why did you come back?"

He held out a tube of burn cream.

"I know you're hurting. I'll make it up to you." His voice dropped low. "You can't carry a child anymore, but the Weisses need an heir. Once Melanie has the baby, everything will get back on track."

I almost laughed out loud.

He had wrecked our future with his own hands, the marriage itself nothing but a lie, and he stood there telling me things would get "back on track."

But I only moved my lips and gave him one word. "Fine. I understand."

Cyril seemed satisfied with that. He looked ready to say more, and then his phone rang.

It was the ringtone he'd set just for his "little fool."

"Cyril, we're celebrating four months of my pregnancy today. I've already booked the restaurant, so hurry over."

He left without a backward glance.

I walked into the garage, hit the gas, and shot out.

Today was the seventh anniversary of the day we met. Every year before this, he'd had a gift ready early, some surprise waiting for me.

This year, he didn't remember.

I parked outside a mountaineering shop, went in, and bought every piece of top-grade gear they had.

When I was young, I'd watched a sunrise over a snow mountain on TV and made a wish.

After that, every year I told him I wanted to climb the snow mountain with him and watch the sunrise together. Every time he said he was busy, and to wait a little longer.

I wasn't waiting anymore.

I would go to the snow mountain myself and watch the most beautiful sunrise there was.

I'd barely tossed the load into the trunk when a hand clamped down hard around my wrist.

"Where's Melanie? What did you do to her?" Cyril snarled at me, his voice shaking with rage.

I'd never seen him like this. His eyes were even threaded with red.

When I said nothing, his knuckles dug in until he nearly crushed the bone. "Talk! Did you take her?"

Pain tore up my wrist and I sucked in a breath. "I haven't seen her, I swear!"

Cyril stared into my eyes, as if weighing the truth of it.

After a moment his fingers loosened, and he finally let me go.

But the instant he turned, his gaze snagged on the open trunk.

Ice axe, rope, tape. Something in his face split open. The red in his eyes thickened, and he seized my jaw.

"Still lying to me. Do you have any idea how much she means to me? Give her back!"

"I didn't. Kidnap her." I forced it out through my teeth.

The fury swallowed him whole. His hand came up and the slap cracked across my face.

A ringing filled my ears, the world went black, and I dropped to the ground.

My cheek burned, and the taste of iron and blood spread through my mouth.

"I'll ask you one last time." He stood over me, his voice cold enough to freeze. "Where is Melanie?"

I gathered every scrap of strength I had and screamed it back at him.

"I told you I didn't do it, are you deaf? If you don't believe me, check the security cameras, check the dashcam!"

Meeting the stubbornness in my eyes, something in Cyril wavered. Then in the next breath he fisted his hand in my hair and dragged me toward his car like a rag he was hauling off.

"Who else would touch her but you? Won't admit it? I have plenty of ways to make you talk."

The burn on my leg split open, sticky blood seeping out, the pain pulling tears straight down my face.

Just as it nearly knocked me out, his phone rang.

"You found her? I'm on my way."

Cyril let go in an instant, spun, threw himself into the car, the engine roaring as he tore off.

Not a moment's hesitation. Not a flicker of guilt over me.

I lifted a hand and touched my swollen, scalding cheek, and a low laugh slipped out of me.

It didn't matter. Let the three of them have their happy little reunion. Their reckoning would come soon enough.

I dragged myself up, straightened my clothes, limped back to the car, and drove straight for the snow mountain outside the city.

The intersection out of town was just ahead. Then, out of nowhere, several cars swept in from both sides.

The black Cayenne in front surged forward, braked hard, and threw itself sideways across my path.

Cyril shoved the door open and got out, his face darker than before.

"Where do you think you're going?"