But the damage had been done. The miscarriage had wrecked my body, and conceiving again became nearly impossible.

Five years passed without another pregnancy.

Looking back now, perhaps it was all meant to be. Without a child tying us together, divorcing Tristan would be simple.

My mocking gaze met Leah's, and she faltered for a moment before curling her lip in disdain.

"At the end of the day, you only have yourself to blame. Making such a fuss over nothing, carrying on like the world was ending. You couldn't even hold on to a baby."

"Mom!"

Tristan saw my expression change and quickly shot Leah a warning look, silencing her before she could go further.

She closed her mouth, though clearly not by choice.

"Isabel, I know what happened back then was my fault," Tristan said. "But I've been trying to make it up to you all these years, haven't I?"

I didn't respond. I just stood there, studying the man in front of me.

The same familiar face. The same brows, the same eyes.

Yet somehow, he felt like a complete stranger.

It was as though I were meeting Tristan Vance for the first time.

Or perhaps this was who he had always been.

The silence stretched thin until Tristan's uncle walked over.

"Why is everyone still standing around? The ceremony's about to start."

"Coming, coming," Leah called back, scooping Jayden into her arms and heading toward the family chapel.

She brought Vivian along with her.

Tristan watched them go, then turned to me.

"Isabel, today is a big day for the Vance family. I'm asking you, please, don't make a scene."

"Besides, Vivian promised me. She and the boy will never interfere with your life or threaten your position as Mrs. Vance. Everything stays exactly the way it's been."

Dozens of Vance relatives had gathered for today's ceremony. I wasn't about to let personal grievances disrupt a ritual honoring the dead.

That would be an unforgivable disrespect to the ancestors.

I unclenched my fists, slowly, and gave a small nod.

"Fine."

Tristan blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. Then the tension visibly drained from his shoulders.

"I knew it. My Izzy always sees the bigger picture."

He reached for my hand as he said it.

But the instant before his fingers touched mine, I stepped back.

His hand hung in midair. The smile on his face faded, degree by degree, until there was nothing left.

"I've said everything I needed to say. Think it over."

He turned and walked away without looking back.

The ancestral ceremony began.

When it was time for Tristan and me to offer incense to the ancestors, Leah snatched the incense right out of my hands and passed it to Vivian.

She wanted Vivian and the boy to stand beside Tristan in my place.

"Jayden is the eldest son of the eldest son in the Vance family," Leah declared, chin lifted high, practically glowing with satisfaction.

In that moment, every pair of eyes in the chapel turned toward me, heavy with pity and secondhand embarrassment.

The ancestral ceremony was the most sacred event in any family. Letting a mistress and an illegitimate child openly pay respects to the ancestors was tantamount to a public acknowledgment of Vivian and her son's place in the family.

It was also a slap across my face, delivered in front of everyone.

They were all waiting for me to explode. To scream. To fall apart.

But I didn't.

From start to finish, my expression remained perfectly calm. Not a single outburst. Not a single tear.

A flash of triumph crossed Vivian's eyes.

It didn't last long.

Because just as she was about to press the lit incense into the burner before the ancestral tablets, a sharp snap cut through the silence.

The middle stick of incense broke clean in half.

"A broken incense stick!"

A sharp gasp shattered the solemn silence of the family chapel.

Every head turned toward the incense in Vivian's hands. The color drained from their faces in an instant.

Everyone knew that a broken incense stick during an ancestral rite was the worst possible omen.

A sign of catastrophe.

And in nearly a hundred years of Vance family history, it had never once happened.

"It really is a broken incense stick!"

"Does this mean disaster is coming for the Vances?"

Panic rippled through the crowd, voices overlapping in frantic whispers.

"Could it just be a bad batch of incense?" someone muttered under their breath.

"Nonsense!"

Before the words had even fully left his mouth, Great-Uncle Harold's voice cracked through the chapel like a whip.

His expression was grave, his eyes locked on the broken stub of incense still clutched in Vivian's trembling fingers.

"That incense was specially blessed at the temple. Premium sandalwood. It doesn't just snap for no reason."

"We must have done something to violate tradition. The ancestors are furious. This is their warning."

"That's right, that's exactly it." The others nodded in fervent agreement.

Someone pointed at Vivian and let out a cold snort.

"Everything was perfectly fine until she stepped up to offer incense. She's the one who angered the ancestors."

"Exactly. Offering incense to the ancestors isn't some game. You can't just let any nobody waltz up and do it."

In an instant, every pair of eyes in the chapel fixed on Vivian's face.

The blood drained from her cheeks.

Humiliation and panic flickered across her features in rapid succession. She glanced instinctively toward Leah.

Leah said nothing. The disappointment on her face was unmistakable.

Vivian's eyes rimmed red, and she turned helplessly toward Tristan.

"Tristan!"

But she was met with a cold, faintly accusatory stare.

Tears slipped down Vivian's cheeks.

Not a single person stepped forward to comfort her.

Her gaze darted frantically through the crowd. Then, suddenly, she thrust out a finger.

"It was her. She set me up."

Every eye in the room swung toward me. Including Tristan's.

There was scrutiny in those gazes. And suspicion.

"I didn't."

I looked at Tristan, my expression calm, and shook my head.

"You're the only one who touched the incense. If it wasn't you, then who?" Vivian's voice broke between sobs, each word more certain than the last. "You're jealous that I gave Tristan a son. That's why you sabotaged me."

She sounded so convinced, so utterly sure of herself, that the suspicion in the crowd's eyes slowly deepened into something more pointed.

When Jayden saw his mother crying, he balled up his small fists and charged straight at me.

"You're a bad woman!"

"You're bullying my mommy! I'll beat you up!"

He was small, but his fists were anything but weak. Each blow landed hard enough to make me grunt through clenched teeth.

I didn't want to stoop to fighting with a child. But he wouldn't stop. One hit after another after another.

And the people around us just stood there. Arms folded. Watching. Not one of them moved to intervene.

I couldn't take it anymore. I raised my hand to push him away.

But the moment my arm lifted, before I could even apply any force, Jayden's body lurched backward.

In that split second of confusion, I caught it: the malicious curl at the corner of Vivian's lips, and the leg she hadn't quite pulled back in time.

Jayden's forehead struck the bronze censer sitting on the altar table.

Blood seeped out immediately, bright and red.

"Jayden!"

Vivian let out a ragged scream and threw herself over her son.

I stared at the scene in front of me, unable to believe what I'd just witnessed.

This woman had used her own child's life as a pawn, just to frame me.

"Isabel, when did you become so vicious? You can't even spare a four-year-old child?"

Tristan's voice was ice-cold, his glare cutting through me like arrows.

Vivian suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me with a loud thud, pressing her palms together, kowtowing through her tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I'll apologize to you. I'll get on my knees for you."

"Please, just leave me alone. Leave my child alone."

In that instant, every pair of eyes in the room turned on me with condemnation.

I held Tristan's gaze, unflinching.

"If I told you it wasn't me, I'm guessing you wouldn't believe me."

Of course not.

"Isabel, you've truly disappointed me."

He rammed his shoulder into mine as he passed, scooping up the child and striding toward the door.

I stumbled back two steps. The small of my back slammed into the corner of the altar table behind me, and a sharp hiss escaped through my teeth.

Tristan didn't even slow down.

A dull, cramping pain radiated through my lower abdomen.

I frowned slightly, pressing my hand against it.

If I was remembering correctly, my period was already two weeks late.

The pain intensified, wave after wave, and then a warm trickle ran down the inside of my thigh.

"Blood!"

Someone pointed at my pants, their voice shrill with alarm.