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.

Wendy playfully nudged his shoulder with a feigned annoyance. Jonathan chuckled, then as if a thought struck him, he suddenly asked me, "Daphne, what were you doing suddenly barging into my study?"

"Getting my safe deposit box that I left here."

I lifted the small box in my hand. It held my and Jonathan's marriage certificate and our household registration book.

But he had clearly forgotten about it, his brow furrowed as he pressed.

"What did you put in there? You've been acting strangely lately. Did you buy something behind my back?"

Jonathan walked over and snatched the safe deposit box from me.

Faced with the combination lock, he was clueless. He narrowed his eyes at me, his gaze threatening.

I said softly, "Our wedding anniversary."

That date had just passed not long ago, but the man before me kept trying different combinations and still couldn't open it.

Finally, he was utterly fed up. Then, he threw it back at me and snapped.

"I don't care what you bought. Throw it out. Daphne, you don't deserve to spend my money."

I didn't say a word, clutching the safe deposit box as I returned to the guest room.

Jonathan seemed to want to say more, but Wendy suddenly claimed she felt unwell. He quickly carried her back to the main bedroom.

After settling Wendy down, he came downstairs and, unusually, instructed the housekeeper, "Make a few dishes tonight that are good for blood. The ones Madam likes."

Back in the guest room, when I stepped inside, I saw my suitcase had been smashed and the things inside were either broken or missing.

I was thankful I had my ID card on me and some other documents had survived only because I had forgotten to pack them.

I opened the safe deposit box and carefully placed everything inside into my inner pockets.

Just as I was about to leave, Wendy leaned against the doorframe, blocking my way.

"Wow, Daphne. I didn't think you were this good at pretending."

Her red lips were slightly curled. Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"You can still pretend to be so calm, even though I have ridden on your head and bullied you."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Then Wendy suddenly acted like she remembered something and dramatically covered her mouth.

"Oh, right. Do you know why Jonathan didn't drive you to the hospital last month when your old man was on his deathbed?"

She waved her phone at me. The screen showed a picture of her and Jonathan, cuddled together on a trip abroad.

"It was because I had a beauty treatment appointment that day and Jonathan said my face was more important than that old man's life."

I slapped the phone out of her hand. She screamed and shoved me hard. I stumbled back into a bookshelf. A delicate antique vase crashed to the floor and shattered.

Right at that moment, the ground began to tremble violently.

"An … an earthquake!"

Wendy's face turned deathly pale. She turned to run but was blocked by a fallen bookcase.

Thick smoke started rising at the end of the hallway and a short circuit sparked a fire.

My body was still weak from just being discharged from the hospital and quickly gave way. I collapsed onto the broken glass scattered on the floor.

"Daphne!"

I heard Jonathan's voice coming from afar, followed by the housekeeper's dissuasion, "Mr. Zander! It's too dangerous!"

"Get out of the way!"

The sound of footsteps grew closer. Jonathan rushed into the smoke-filled room.

The first thing he saw was Wendy huddled in a corner, sobbing.

"Jonathan! I'm so scared." Wendy reached out her arms.

Jonathan picked her up without hesitation. When he turned around, he finally saw me lying on the ground.

Our eyes met. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing. He carried Wendy as they disappeared into the smoke.

The earthquake quickly subsided, but it took the firefighters an hour to extinguish the fire.

Jonathan asked repeatedly, but no one said they had seen me.

Neither in life nor in death was my body found.

At the airport, after I mailed out everything I needed to, I clutched my chest and prepared to board my flight.

My phone rang again. It was Jonathan.

I calmly pulled out the SIM card and tossed it into the trash.

Jonathan, from this day forward, you and I have absolutely nothing to do with each other.