My husband, Jonathan Zander, brought his mistress home on our seventh wedding anniversary.

"Wendy finally got pregnant. You have to take good care of her. If it's a boy, he will be the only heir of our Zander Family."

He spoke as he pulled out a chair for the girl named Wendy Stevens without even looking at me.

"She's sensitive and delicate, so try to be accommodating. Don’t get jealous over nothing and ruin the mood for everyone."

I didn’t say a word. I just grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door.

Seeing that I was really leaving, Wendy’s eyes filled with tears. She quickly stood up and spoke.

"Jonathan, please don't do this. I should be the one to step back. No, I'm already grateful that Madam doesn't hate me. Please don't fight because of me."

"Don't worry about her. She'll come crawling back soon enough and when I get furious, she'll beg on her knees for forgiveness."

Jonathan said as he pushed Wendy back into her dining table seat.

Wendy's mother, who had come with her, sneered at me.

"What right does a barren hen have to be angry? Wendy, let's eat. We can't let my precious grandson go hungry. What's the difference between a woman who can't have children and a cripple? Who else would want her if she leaves?"

They didn't know my decision to leave wasn't a childish tantrum.

I honestly had no intention of ever returning.

Just as I was dragging my suitcase towards the entryway, Jonathan suddenly called out to me.

"Daphne Lancaster." His voice held its usual commanding tone.

"Give that pregnant stray cat you've been keeping to Wendy. She's always wanted a little animal to be born around the same time as the baby."

I stopped in my tracks. Outside, the orange tabby tied to the tree whined and rubbed against the leash when it saw me.

I remembered how Jonathan had disgustedly kicked the cat several times when I started feeding it.

I had knelt and begged him for a long time before he finally agreed to let me keep it, but only outside.

Now Wendy says one word and suddenly he's all heart.

When I didn’t respond, Jonathan clicked his tongue impatiently.

"It's just a stray cat. Don't act so dramatic. Don't tell me you're actually attached to it."

Attached? Maybe not, but what about the seven years between us?

I clenched my fists, but I didn’t dare say no. I knew the consequences of rejecting Jonathan.

It was a stormy night a week ago and Wendy suddenly craved wild game from the mountains.

Jonathan demanded that I go get it right away.

I refused because I wasn't feeling well and as a result, the bodyguards dragged me out of the house and dumped me on a deserted mountain in the pouring rain.

I walked home step by step, only to fall down the mountainside halfway there, nearly losing my life.

Thinking of that night made me tremble. I crouched down and gently picked up the little cat. She thought I was playing and purred happily in my arms.

"Be good to her," I said to Wendy softly.

Jonathan seemed pleased by my obedience and said in a rare gesture of alms, "It's best if you are sensible. After all, the baby in Wendy's belly will also call you mom in the future. You should know she is giving birth to a child for you."

Just as he finished speaking, Wendy suddenly shrieked. It turned out that as soon as the cat was in her arms, it got scared and quickly ran away.

Wendy clutched her stomach and cried out in pain. Jonathan immediately picked her up anxiously and shouted at the housekeeper to call a doctor.

Wendy's mother looked at me mockingly as if finding me utterly ridiculous.

Indeed, it was ridiculous.

The day before yesterday, I had a high fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit and Jonathan was about to take Wendy home.

When he saw me, he cursed me for being bad luck and told the housekeeper to move me to the storage room for isolation.

"Disinfect every corner of the house thoroughly. Don't let her out until she's completely better, in case she infects Wendy!"

No meds. No blankets. I curled up in a corner and survived two days on my own.

Now, Wendy just got spooked and he's ready to move heaven and earth.

I tightened my grip on the suitcase and tried to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Kneel." His voice was icy, sharp as glass.

The dull thud of my knees hitting the marble floor blurred my vision.

Sharp fragments of decorative stone dug into my skin. The gasp of pain I let out only earned me a disgusted flick of his hand, as if he had touched something filthy.

"Your wild cat scratched Wendy. Today, either you apologize on its behalf, or … "

He turned to the housekeeper and said sternly, "Bring that beast here and get rid of it in front of her!"

"I was wrong, I was wrong! Don't hurt the cat!"

I lunged forward and grabbed his trouser leg, lowering my head heavily. The sound of my forehead hitting the ground made the surrounding servants turn their faces away.

I'd gotten used to apologizing. It started three years ago, the day I miscarried and nearly bled to death.

At the time, the doctor told me I might never be able to conceive again. My first reaction was to apologize to Jonathan, who had been rushed to the hospital. "I'm sorry, I couldn't keep our baby … "

At that time, he hugged me with red eyes and said it didn't matter. As long as we were together, it was enough.

Later, he was still very good to me, so good that I couldn't sleep whenever I thought of the doctor's diagnosis.

So, when he started coming home late, I didn't ask. When I saw lipstick stains on his shirt collar, I didn't ask. When he brought Wendy to me and said she would have a child for me, I still didn't ask.

But after my family died in a car accident, Jonathan changed.

All his patience and tenderness were given entirely to Wendy and I became the barren hen that no one but him would want.

At first, I tolerated Jonathan and repeatedly admitted my mistakes because I loved him, but now I was exhausted.

My teeth cut my lip and my mouth filled with the taste of blood.

When I looked up, I noticed Jonathan's pupils contracted slightly.

He reached out as if to touch the cut on my lip but abruptly changed direction mid-air and loosened his tie.

"Daphne." His voice held the familiar impatience.

"You're not the young lady of a wealthy family anymore. Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?"

The private doctor rushed in and Jonathan immediately went to meet him, his shoulder bumping me, sending me staggering backwards.

I took a deep breath and turned to leave.

Outside the villa, the driver had been waiting for me for a long time

I picked up the pace, but halfway there, two iron-like hands yanked me back.

"Mr. Zander asks that you return."

The bodyguard's voice was cold, emotionless.

In the study, Jonathan was casually fastening his cufflinks.

When he saw me walk in, he tipped his chin. Someone immediately grabbed my shoulders and forced me into a medical chair that had clearly been prepared in advance.

"Wendy has anemia during her pregnancy and needs a blood transfusion."

He spoke while gesturing for the doctor to prepare, "Your blood types are the same."

I jerked my head up. "Jonathan, I've just been seriously ill … "

"Six hundred milliliters."

Jonathan interrupted me, gesturing to the doctor. "Start now."

The moment the extremely thick needle pierced my vein, I bit through my lip.

The taste of blood spread in my mouth, but it couldn't compare to the pain of my heart being torn apart.

Through the half-open door, I heard the hushed voice of the family doctor.

"Mr. Zander, Madam just experienced a miscarriage. Her hemoglobin is only 80. Drawing blood like this could lead to … "

"Spare me the nonsense." Jonathan's tone was indifferent. "Wendy can't wait."

Blood flowed along the tube into the blood bag and my vision began to blur.

In a trance, Jonathan walked before me and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead with a handkerchief, something he'd never done before.

"Scream if it hurts." His voice was surprisingly soft. "It'll be over soon. Just bear with it. This is all for our child."

I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at him again.

Our child?

When the child is actually born, will he still remember who his real wife is?

As the blood bag gradually filled, Wendy's sharp scream came from the main bedroom.

Jonathan's face changed instantly. He grabbed the doctor's hand just as he was about to remove the needle. "Draw another four hundred."

"That could kill her!" the doctor shouted. "She's already showing signs of shock!"

Jonathan glanced at my pale face briefly, then returned to the bedroom. "Wendy is carrying my child. She comes first, no matter what."

The doctor tried to argue, but I interrupted him.

"Draw it," I spoke hoarsely. My voice was as light as a wisp of smoke. "Jonathan, it's settled. Once you're done, you'll let me leave."

His pupils shrank. He grabbed my chin roughly. "Daphne, are you seriously running away over something like this?"

Wendy's delicate cry came again at the opportune moment and Jonathan flung me away, rushing out without looking back.

Without his grip holding me up, I crumpled to the floor like a rag doll. The last thing I heard before blacking out was the panicked shouting of the doctor and the sound of footsteps fading away.

I woke up to the smell of disinfectant.

The hospital room was bathed in cold white light. Jonathan sat nearby, typing away on his laptop.

Noticing I'd woken, he closed it and picked up a bowl of porridge from the bedside table.

He scooped up a spoonful and held it to my lips, his movements stiff like he was just checking off a task.

I turned my head slightly. "I can feed myself."

The porridge was warm but caught in my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

Jonathan watched me struggle to swallow. His brow furrowed deeper with every bite.

Just as I reached for a fifth spoonful, he suddenly pressed down on my hand.

"The doctor said you still need more blood. Things got a bit rushed back at the villa. That's why we took so much. You can … "

"No need," I cut him off. "I'm not dying."

A blank look flashed across Jonathan's face as if he wasn't used to my rejection.

Silence stretched between us until he finally spoke again. "Your phone's been ringing nonstop."

I picked up my phone and unlocked the screen. Twenty-three missed calls and forty-seven unread messages popped up simultaneously.

Jonathan's gaze swept across the screen and his voice suddenly turned cold. "Who's looking for you so urgently?"

"A friend." I locked the screen and didn't elaborate.

Jonathan suddenly yanked off his tie and leaned in close.

"Daphne, what the hell are you doing? First, you plan to run away from home and now you're acting like you're half-dead. Do you still think you're that little princess everyone must coax?"

"If you're not born a princess, stop acting like one!"

"Go take a look outside. Which wife who can't bear children hasn't gotten divorced yet? What exactly are you so dissatisfied with?"

His breath brushed against my face.

If it had been the past, I would have cried because of his words, tearfully apologizing and saying I was sorry that I hadn't considered his feelings.

Now, I only felt a chill in my heart.

Since we already loathe the sight of each other, why continue to hold onto this marriage?

Just as I was about to speak, his phone rang.

Jonathan immediately straightened up almost reflexively and walked towards the door while answering the phone.

His deliberately lowered laughter drifted from the hallway, its tenderness grating on my ears.

The moment the hospital room door closed, my phone rang again.

As soon as I answered, an anxious voice came through. "Daphne, why did you go back again? Could it be that you still can't bear to leave him?"

"No, something unexpected happened this time, but it'll be soon. I'll contact you then."

Just as I hung up, the hospital room door was pushed open.

Jonathan stood at the door, his eyes fixed on my gentle features. This was the first time in the past two years that he had seen me smile without a bitter and resentful expression.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Wendy's morning sickness is pretty bad."

He offered the explanation out of nowhere, but his gaze lingered on my phone by the bed. “I have to go back and take care of her.”

I knew he wanted to ask who had called me, but he eventually held it back.

Because asking would mean he still cared about me, which would bruise his ego.

He grabbed his suit off the couch and tossed it out. "Something urgent came up at work. I'll come to see you tomorrow."

After the door closed, I counted the drops of medicine falling from the IV drip. One drop, two drops.

Just like counting the lies he'd told me over the past seven years.

In Jonathan's world, "tomorrow" was a day that would never come.

Three days passed and Jonathan never appeared. Instead, a constant stream of videos came from our mutual friends.

He was at a charity gala with his arm around Wendy's waist, feeding her dessert at a Michelin-starred restaurant and kissing her growing baby bump on a yacht.

On the day I was discharged, a new post popped up on my feed.

Jonathan had posted a grid of nine photos.

He was kneeling in the middle of a lavender field with his ear pressed to Wendy's belly. The caption read, "Waiting for our little princess."

The sunlight was perfect and the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Wendy could melt ice.

The comments section was filled with cheerful remarks calling Wendy beautiful.

He hadn't blocked me, so I clicked "like."

My phone vibrated instantly, Jonathan's name flashing on the screen.

I didn't answer. I slipped my phone into my bag and handled the discharge procedures alone.

I heard a familiar laugh as I walked towards the obstetrics and gynecology department entrance.

"Mrs. Wendy, your husband is so considerate."

A young nurse at the reception desk said, her face full of admiration.

"He's been coming with you to every prenatal checkup! Even a heat pack for the ultrasound was brought so you wouldn't get cold."

I froze. My fingers instinctively brushed over my flat stomach.

There was a time when Jonathan had been just as anxious about me, just as meticulously caring.

In fact, I got pregnant once after that time.

But before I could tell him the good news, I came home to find Jonathan and Wendy entangled in the living room.

When she saw me, Wendy burst into tears and hid in his arms.

"Mrs. Zander, please don't misunderstand. I was just helping Jonathan relieve some stress."

I was so overwhelmed. I wanted to tell him I was pregnant. That I didn't need anyone else to have a baby for me.

But before the words could leave my lips, a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen.

The baby that hadn't even had time to be real was gone like that.

Jonathan knew nothing about it. He was disheveled, hugging the sobbing Wendy and roaring at me.

"Daphne, what the fuck is wrong with you? You scared Wendy to tears! You can't even keep a baby. Why don't you just die already?"

"What are you doing here?"

A cold voice pulled me back to reality.

Jonathan had appeared before me without warning. Wendy was clinging to his arm, her baby bump clearly visible.

I stepped back instinctively. "Just finishing my discharge paperwork."

"Daphne, you look so pale," Wendy suddenly chirped, her fingers twirling around his tie.

"Jonathan, let's take her home with us, okay? She just donated blood for me. We should really thank her."

Jonathan pinched Wendy's cheek. "You're so kind-hearted."

Then he turned to me, his expression back to that familiar indifference. "Get in the car. Don't keep Wendy waiting."

I wanted to say no, but I remembered the documents I'd left in the study back at the villa. So, I followed them silently.

Jonathan's usually spotless study now reeked of Wendy's perfume, a cloying sweetness that made me nauseous.

I rummaged through the files, only to find a bulge under one of them on the desk.

I saw a black lace strap when I looked down, the edges stained with suspicious marks.

"Oops!" Wendy, who had followed me into the study, exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed. "H-how is this still in the study?"

Jonathan glanced at me, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Forgot to clean up."

I lowered my head, suddenly recalling the first year of our marriage when I had secretly placed a homemade lunchbox on his study desk.

He had returned that day in a furious rage, saying I had dirtied his study.

But now, Wendy's girl juice was smeared across his desk and all he did was smile indulgently.