The day my mother was hit and killed while trying to save my husband happened to be his secretary, Stella Harris's birthday.

She complained that my mother died at the wrong time and insisted on turning the funeral into her birthday party.

My husband actually listened to her. He ordered my mother’s body to be moved to the roadside.

A stray dog from the village wandered over and began gnawing at her remains. I broke down and rushed to chase it away, but my husband stopped me.

"Today is Stella's birthday. Don't make trouble. It would bring bad luck for us all to place your mother’s body in the ancestral home!"

"So what if it's chewed up? She's already dead. There won’t be anything left after cremation anyway."

As we struggled, a steel bar pierced my pregnant belly. Blood started to flow.

However, my husband turned a blind eye, choosing instead to take his first love to make a wish.

After the surgery, I cremated the unborn child and made a call with a broken heart.

"Please send it to Room 5118 of Hill Apartment, to Mr. Luther Valdez."

——

"Priscilla, if you dare to bring us bad luck by placing your mother into the ancestral home, I will divorce you!"

Luther suddenly grabbed me, yanking me away from my mother’s body before shoving me against the nearby wall.

"Ugh!"

A sharp, unbearable pain tore through my abdomen.

I looked down. Blood quickly seeped through my clothes.

"Luther, save me…" My voice trembled uncontrollably.

Luther frowned, his tone impatient. "Priscilla Cowell, what are you doing again?"

"Don't think pretending to be pitiful will stop me from celebrating Stella's birthday."

I stared at him in disbelief. Was this really the man I had loved for eight years?

"Luther, the steel bar… it’s in my stomach… there's so much blood…"

I tried to move, but my belly was pinned against the steel bar. I could not free myself.

Luther noticed my struggle and took a step back, his expression filled with disgust.

"Bleeding? I barely pushed you and you're already bleeding?"

"You might as well say you've lost the baby! Your tricks to gain sympathy are getting worse and worse!"

Stella spoke softly, feigning concern. "Luther, maybe your wife is really upset."

"Just forget it. If we can't celebrate my birthday, then it's fine…"

Hearing Stella's words only made Luther more resolute.

He stepped forward and shoved me hard.

The steel bar drove deeper into my stomach. A wave of searing pain surged through me and I nearly blacked out.

"I’m warning you. Stop playing tricks! I’ll take care of your mother’s funeral after Stella’s birthday."

"Stella, let’s go make a wish. I’ll take you back to your apartment later."

With that, he took Stella’s hand and walked into the ancestral home without looking back.

Moments later, the music of a birthday song filled the air. Luther took the microphone, leading the chorus as laughter and music echoed inside the house.

Outside, my mother’s lifeless body lay there, miserable and torn apart.

Tears streamed down my face. "Mom, I’m sorry…"

"Wait for me. I’ll bring the baby to keep you company…"

Just as I was about to be swallowed by darkness, hurried footsteps approached.

"Quick! Call an ambulance! Someone is injured!"

At the hospital, the doctor frowned when he heard my decision to not keep the baby.

"There’s still a chance to save the baby. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it? Does your husband know?"

"My husband is dead." My voice was cold, emotionless.

In my heart, Luther was already sentenced to death.

The doctor’s expression shifted to quiet sympathy. Without another word, he adjusted the surgical plan and wheeled me into the operating room.

After the surgery, I cremated the fetus and sent the ashes to Stella’s apartment.

During the seven days I was hospitalized, Luther never reached out.

To him, I was nothing more than an afterthought, less significant than a stranger.

Through Stella’s social media, I saw photos of them indulging in passionate bliss at the apartment.

In one of the pictures, Luther held Stella in his arms, his embrace filled with affection. She smiled like a blooming flower, their necks marked with unmistakable traces of intimacy.

Before, I would have rushed over, tears streaming down my face, demanding an explanation.

But this time, I simply clicked the like button and then paused.

On the day of my discharge, my best friend Nina brought my mother’s urn to the hospital.

Her voice choked with emotion. "By the time I got there… there were only bones left."

"You and your mother were so devoted to him, but he… he’s nothing but a beast!"

For Luther Valdez, I brought along my mother away from our home and moved to this city.

My mother treated him like her own son, staying up all night whenever he fell ill.

My mother always said, "Luther grew up without parents since he was a child. If we treat him well, maybe we can make up for the love he never had."

However, even after she died saving him by being struck by a car in his place, he still did not see my mother as family.

The moment Stella said, "It’s my birthday, I want to have my party here," he trampled on my mother’s last shred of dignity without hesitation.

He coldly pushed me aside and I naïvely thought he was just leaving me to handle other matters.

When I finally rushed back to the ancestral home, what awaited me was a scene so horrific it was beyond words.

I took my mother’s urn in my hands, my gaze hollow as I looked at Nina. "Thank you, Nina."

After that, like a soulless puppet, I resigned from the company.

The home that was once filled with warmth now felt unbearably cold.

Every corner carried traces of my mother and her presence lingered in the air. But those once-comforting memories had turned into blades, cutting deep with every touch.

I stared blankly at my mother’s urn, my vision blurring as silent tears welled up.

"Mom, I’m sorry… I’ll take you home."

"What home are you talking about?" Luther, who had been absent all this time, suddenly appeared at the door.

I did not even want to acknowledge him. Without a word, I picked up my phone and began booking a flight.

Luther curled his lips awkwardly as if trying to ease the tension, then spoke as if talking to himself.

"Stella received your gift. She said she forgives you for what happened that day."

I froze for a moment before realizing that he thought the package I sent was an apology gift for Stella.

They had been so busy indulging themselves these past few days that they had not even opened it yet.

A cold laugh escaped my lips as I said, "That wasn’t for her. It was for you."

Luther’s expression darkened and he spoke in an annoyed tone, "Because of your mother, Stella didn’t get to celebrate her birthday properly. Shouldn’t you be the one to make it up to her?"

The anger that had been simmering inside me suddenly ignited.

"Luther, what right do you have to demand an apology from me?" My voice was sharp with fury. "Don’t forget that my mother died saving you!"

For a brief moment, Luther was at a loss for words, but it did not take long for him to regain his usual self-righteous demeanor.

"Stella’s birthday was ruined because of your commotion. You should take responsibility, right?"

"Besides, I never asked your mother to save me, so don’t try to guilt-trip me with morality."

I trembled with rage. Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest cup and hurled it at him.

Luther dodged to the side and the cup shattered against the wall, pieces scattering across the floor.

"You are such a shrew!" He looked at me with pure disgust. "I can’t stay in this house anymore."

With that, he walked to the fridge, pulled out a box of dumplings and left without looking back.

My heart tightened as I watched him hold the last box of cake my mother had made for me.

"You can’t take it! This is all I have left from my mother!" I reached out, desperate to stop him.

Before that, Luther kicked me hard in the stomach, his voice venomous.

"You’re making a big deal over a cake? It’s your mother’s blessing that Stella even wants to eat something she made!"

The force of the kick sent me crashing to the ground and my head slammed into the corner of the table. Blood began to drip from my forehead, staining the floor beneath me.

As I saw my blood mix with the memories of my mother’s body being torn apart by the wild dog, I felt something inside me snap.

I screamed, my voice raw and fury. "Luther, you're not human! You're a monster!"

"I want a divorce! I can’t stay with you anymore!"

"Fine! I’ll sign it right now!" Luther’s tone was dismissive, almost bored.

He quickly pulled out two sheets of paper, scribbled his name and cruelly pressed his fingerprints into the blood pooling on the floor.

He sneered at me, his words dripping with scorn. "Priscilla, if you have the guts, go ahead and draft the divorce papers."

"You’re nothing. Pregnant with someone else’s child. Who would want you if you leave me?"

With that, he slammed the door and walked out without a second thought.

Luther did not return for days.

I did not care. I dragged my exhausted body and began packing.

It felt oddly freeing when he was not here and I no longer had to endure his indifference and cruelty.

It was not until the early hours of the morning, just before I left, that he came back, holding a crumpled bag in his hands.

Seeing the large suitcases by the door, he looked at me in surprise. "Where are you going?"

I answered calmly, without a hint of emotion. "Back to my hometown."

I expected at least a few questions, maybe even a touch of concern. However, all he did was nod and hand me the bag.

"I was loud the other day... don’t be angry."

I had seen that bag on Stella’s WhatsApp Status the day before, tossed carelessly next to a discarded Hermès bag.

I did not even spare him a glance, simply replying, "Put it on the table."

He mistook my indifference for acceptance, sighing in relief before continuing. "Are you leaving today? If you are, then you need to reschedule. You and I are going to meet some clients at noon."

I responded calmly, "Socializing? Isn’t that Stella’s job as your secretary?"

His face hardened at my words, his tone suddenly stiffening.

"Stella got gastroenteritis from eating your mother’s cake, so she can’t drink."

"It’s all your mother’s fault. You need to make up for her sins."

I looked at him steadily, choosing not to challenge the absurdity of his words.

After Stella returned from abroad, Luther had arranged for her to join the company as his secretary.

But whenever there were social events involving alcohol, he would drag me along, letting other people drink me under the table while he and Stella laughed and chatted, completely indifferent to my discomfort.

It was not Stella who could not drink. It was clear that Luther did not want her to.

"The doctor said I can’t drink because of my condition," I said, gesturing to my forehead and stomach.

His eyes followed my hand to my stomach and for a brief moment, he seemed taken aback.

Today, I wore a tight dress and my belly, once slightly swollen, was now flat.

If he had any care for me at all, he would have noticed the change in my body.

After a beat, Luther spoke again, "If we drink red wine, it won’t affect the child."

I could not help but let out a bitter smile, but he took it as agreement, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door.