My husband, August Carter, had an obsession with virgins.

When he sent his newest mistress, Wanda Yates, to me for yet another reconstruction surgery, he lifted my chin with a bank card. "Fix this one and this card is yours. Whether to save your mother or not is your choice."

Clutching my heavily pregnant belly, I walked into the operating room.

After five years of marriage, I had performed ninety-nine reconstruction surgeries for his mistresses. Each time, he had a reason to threaten me.

Just as I put on my gloves, my water broke and I urgently called for my colleagues.

Before I could react, Wanda suddenly slammed the surgical cart into me. The violent impact sent me crashing to the ground and I lost consciousness.

By the time they got me to the delivery room, my baby had already suffocated inside my womb.

Later, when I finally regained consciousness, I heard Wanda's tearful voice drifting in from outside the ward.

"It's all my fault. I panicked and caused her labor complications. I never imagined her mother's condition would worsen and she'd pass away after hearing the news. August, she won't divorce you, will she?"

"She won't," August replied with absolute certainty.

"Wanda, I had this child with her solely for your heart transplant. Now that the baby is born, you just need to wait for the surgery."

Sadly, he still didn't know the child was gone.

It turned out that every time he accompanied me to prenatal checkups, it wasn't out of concern for the baby or me, but to verify the quality of his beloved's donor.

At this moment, I was completely awake.

When Julie Carter came to visit me, my gaze was resolute. I said, "I've repaid what I owed you. Let me leave in a week."

***

The day before my due date, I still had to perform a reconstruction surgery for August's mistress.

Because the last time I refused, he spread false news, which resulted in me being stripped of my clothes and pushed down the stairs by a family member involved in a medical dispute.

Now, he simply used my mother's surgery fees as blackmail. So, I had no choice but to comply.

Wanda lay on the operating table, tracing the mottled hickeys on her leg. "Guess what August did to me on that waterbed last night?"

That waterbed was something I had prepared for my unborn child.

On the day of delivery, August, unusually, glanced at it several times.

I thought he was finally starting to look forward to the child. In the end, he was planning to sleep on it with his mistress.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my belly. I realized my water had broken again, so I quickly informed my colleagues and got ready to leave.

"Dr. Yager!"

When I turned back, I saw Wanda abruptly release her grip. The cart struck my stomach hard and blood mixed with amniotic fluid pooled beneath me.

Then the door opened, but August stepped over me as if he didn't see me at all. Instead, he noticed Wanda's broken fingernail and asked with concern, "Does it hurt? How did you get it?"

"August," Wanda said tearfully, "Dr. Yager said I was dirty and refused to operate on me!"

That man's eyes turned cold. "Eleanor, what right do you have to talk about others?"

"I didn't." I shook my head with difficulty, "She pushed me … "

"You're lying!" Wanda cried out, "August, she said if anything happened to the baby in my belly, you would never let me off the hook and then she ran into the operating table herself!"

The assistant beside her couldn't help but speak up. "Mr. Carter, it was Miss Yates who pushed … "

"Shut up." August's frown silenced everyone. "Get out!"

Soon, only the three of us remained in the operating room.

"Bribing others to act with you," August said coldly, looking at me. "Eleanor, you're quite cunning."

"I didn't," I gasped, the contractions suddenly intensified. I quickly grabbed my husband's trouser leg, pleading, "Save the baby, please … "

But he kicked my hand away. "You acted so well, but your due date is tomorrow. Who are you putting on this act for? Even if you gave birth now, I wouldn't give you a second glance!"

With that, he turned and pulled Wanda away. "She's made a mess of this place. Let's get another doctor."

"Isn't Dr. Yager's mother also hospitalized here? Should we tell her?" she asked.

"You're so kind," he replied, his tone was both helpless and indulgent. "Whatever you say."

"No!" I struggled to crawl forward.

My mother had been seriously ill for many years and couldn't handle any shocks. Unfortunately, they had already reached the exit.

The door shut with a heavy thud and darkness swallowed my last shred of consciousness.

By the time I awoke again, the baby had died because he suffocated due to delayed rescue, my mother had passed away suddenly upon hearing the news of the difficult birth and August had stated with his own words that he only saw our child as a heart donor for Wanda.

I was utterly heartbroken, so I made a phone call.

"Dr. Lockhe, I agree to join your team." My voice was soft but firm. "But I need you to erase all of my traces."

The man on the other end did not hesitate. "No problem. Give me one week."

"Then I will see you in a week," I replied.

When Julie arrived, I showed her the hallway security footage. Her face was ashen as she listened to the conversation between August and Wanda.

After a long pause, she sighed deeply. "If it hadn't been for that past incident, you and August might have … "

She stopped, then continued, "It is my family who has wronged you, Eleanor. What do you want?"

"I want to leave." I coldly interrupted her, "I've repaid what I owed you, now let me go."

After seeing the elder lady off, I walked back in a daze. From around the corner came the admiring voices of young nurses.

"Miss Yates is so lucky. Just a minor reconstructive surgery and her boyfriend has booked the entire VIP floor to be with her every step of the way!"

"Don't talk nonsense!" the older nurse scolded. "That's Dr. Yager's husband!"

The young nurse gasped. "Dr. Yager just lost her child and her husband is already so high and mighty with his mistress!"

"It's worse," the older nurse said indignantly. "He personally picks up her medication three times a day, passing Dr. Yager's room each time, yet he's never once gone inside!"

I walked past expressionlessly, but my feet involuntarily turned towards the elevator.

In the top-floor ward, I could see Wanda coquettishly hand her half-eaten mousse to August.

I remembered clearly that he had severe mysophobia. Once, just because I tasted a bite while cooking, he disgustedly threw away the entire table of food. Yet now, he naturally took the spoon Wanda had used and finished the mousse she had left behind.

I took all of this in, but felt nothing inside except numbness.

"Dr. Yager, what are you doing here?" The nurse's voice rang out abruptly.

Startled, Wanda began to cough. August hurriedly patted her back. "Apologize," he said unpleasantly.

The nurse quickly said, "I'm sorry! I … "

"I wasn't talking to you," he interrupted with a dark expression. "Eleanor, you scared Wanda. Apologize!"

A strange flicker passed through August's eyes and his frown deepened. As his lips parted slightly, Wanda suddenly cut in, "It's not Dr. Yager's fault. I'm just too clumsy."

The wrinkles between August's brows instantly smoothed out. He gently pinched her nose, "You really are a little fool."

I was about to leave when I was called back.

"Don't run around right after giving birth," he said with a hint of disgust. "If you're so healthy, take the baby home as soon as possible."

The nurse hesitated. "But your baby … "

"I know," I interrupted her, leaving without looking back.

At dawn two days later, I went through the discharge procedures alone.

When I returned, the house was empty. I gently pushed open a door and the warm colors instantly brightened my vision.

Every detail in this nursery was arranged by my own hands. Beige wallpaper, cloud-shaped chandelier—everything was exactly what August and I had dreamed of.

Back then, we were crammed into my rented apartment and he twirled a strand of my hair and said, "From now on, our home will be decorated entirely in the warm colors you love."

But later, our home became as cold as a tomb.

In this entire house, only this room retained a trace of warmth.

Now, the once cozy nursery was a mess. A glaring lace bra lay on the waterbed and curly long hairs were tangled on a little cat-eared hat. The scent of intimacy lingered heavily in the air.

My stomach churned, so I rushed into the bathroom and threw up violently.

After washing my face, I threw away the waterbed and packed the baby's things.

"Just give Mommy four more days, baby," I whispered, burying my face in a soft yellow onesie. "Mommy will take you away from here and we'll never come back."

As dawn broke, a fragrant aroma wafted in.

Following the scent into the kitchen, I saw August standing at the stove, an apron tied around his waist.

He used to despise the smell of oil and smoke. Back then, if my cooking left even a hint of scent, he wouldn't let me sit at the same table.

Yet now he was fully focused on the stove, with several failed pots of soup lined up beside him.

When he saw me, his eyes immediately lit up. "You're just in time! Come try this!"

I walked over as if possessed and took a taste from the spoon he held out to my lips.

The flavor was very ordinary, but it warmed me up completely.

This soup was my mother's specialty, a taste of home I had mentioned to August many times.

"It's delicious," I heard myself say.

"That's wonderful!" he exclaimed with relief. "Wanda said she wanted this soup yesterday and I failed several times, almost disappointing her."

My body instantly turned cold and the soup I swallowed felt like a lump in my throat.

August was in high spirits, casually asking while sprinkling scallions, "Where's the child?"

I lowered my eyes. "At Grandma's."

Before he could say anything more, I had already walked away to get a document.

August raised an eyebrow. "Bringing up the child to ask for a reward again? What do you want to buy this time?"

"A burial plot," I said calmly. "Please sign this."

He paused, his tone unusually gentle. "So you know about your mother's passing? Where did you choose for the burial plot?"

As he spoke, he took the document and started to open it. I was about to stop him when his phone rang.

Later, Wanda's sweet, coquettish voice came through. "August, have you left yet?"

"Right away," August replied, a smile in his eyes. "Miss me?"

He flirted with her while mouthing, "We'll talk about it when I get back."

"No," I grabbed his wrist. "Sign it now."

August's face darkened. "Don't push your luck!"

He was always cautious, meticulously reviewing documents before signing and my insistence went against his principles.

In the past, I would have apologized immediately. But this time, I stubbornly refused to let go.

We locked eyes for a long moment until Wanda's voice sounded again. "August?"

Her single prompt made him compromise instantly. For the first time, he didn't read a single word and signed hastily.

"Satisfied?" that man sneered. He threw the document at me, packed up the soup and slammed the door as he left.

I clutched the document tightly and slowly crouched down. In truth, Julie had already helped me arrange my mother's funeral affairs. What he had just signed was our divorce agreement.

A long time later, my phone vibrated.

A post from Wanda popped up. [I just mentioned it casually and the next day, someone made it happen for me!]

The accompanying photo was that very bowl of soup. The first instant like came from August, someone who rarely checked social media and had never once liked any of my posts.

Just as I was about to swipe away, Julie's message popped up. [Eleanor, today is the day of the child's cremation. Do you need me to pick you up?]

I declined her offer and drove to the crematorium.

Seeing that I was alone, the old lady asked, "Where's August?"

I shook my head. "I didn't tell him."

The baby was my child and had nothing to do with August. In three days, I would also have no further connection to him.

The old lady was furious. "This is his child, too! Didn't he even ask about it once?"

She took out her phone to call August, but couldn't get through. Meanwhile, my phone buzzed.

August texted me. [Why is Grandma calling me? Did you complain to her again?]

In our chat history, which contained 19,277 messages I had sent him over five years, he had replied only 82 times. This was the first message he had ever initiated and it was to blame me.

Subsequently, his messages popped up one after another.

[If Grandma causes trouble for Wanda, I won't let you off the hook.]

[I was just helping Wanda out.]

[If you want soup, I'll make it for you later.]

[Stop making a scene.]

I pressed the power button quietly, expressionless.

Soon, a staff member walked over and asked, "Are the two of you ready?"

My throat felt tight, but I nodded.

The moment the child was placed into the cremation furnace, my phone suddenly began buzzing incessantly.

It was a call from August.