"I want to live in the master bedroom," Millicent pouted. "I heard south-facing rooms are better for the baby."

Ambrose didn’t even lift his eyes. “Jasmine, move to the basement.”

Millicent’s gaze drifted to the diamond bracelet on my wrist. “That diamond looks lovely. I heard it’s especially good for pregnant women…”

It was the bracelet he had fastened on me the night we were married. Silently, I slipped it off and placed it in her hand.

I had long known Millicent wasn’t like the others.

He never brought the woman before her home. But for Millicent, he faked amnesia, made me dance on a frozen lake to amuse her, and let her ram into me on the racetrack, shattering my leg.

I walked into the basement, greeted by the stench of dampness and dust.

Upstairs, the faint creaking of a bed echoed through the silence.

I curled up on the hard mattress, eyes wide open, listening to the sound of betrayal that didn’t stop until dawn.

Then came Millicent’s shrill giggles from the living room, slicing through the morning air.

I shot up and rushed to my former bedroom, checking frantically that my documents were still untouched. Only after gathering them into a bag did I feel the first flicker of calm.

I had made my decision: I would divorce him and move to a city far in the north.

“Jasmine, what are you looking for?”

Millicent stood leaning on the doorframe, arms folded, draped in silk and smugness. Her eyes locked onto the diamond pendant at my chest, and her lips curled.

“That pendant is gorgeous!”

I instinctively clutched the pendant to my chest and took a step back. “It belonged to my grandfather. I can’t give it to you.”

She sneered but didn’t press further; she just followed me down the stairs like a shadow.

Halfway down, she suddenly leaned close and hissed, “Jasmine, everything in this villa will be mine. Once I give birth to the Walker family heir, do you think you’ll still have a place here?”

I picked up my pace, wanting to escape her venom, but at the stairwell’s curve, she suddenly yanked me backward. “Give it to me!”

“Let go!” I twisted instinctively to break free.

But before I could catch my balance, Millicent let out a piercing scream. “Ah!”

In the next breath, she dragged me down the stairs with her.

My lower back slammed hard into the edge of a step. A sharp crack echoed in my ears, followed by blinding pain that shot through my spine. For a moment, everything went black.

“Millicent!” Ambrose’s voice thundered from the doorway.

He charged forward. I opened my mouth to speak, but before a word escaped, his foot slammed into my chest.

I crashed into the wall, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. Blood spilled from my lips as searing pain exploded in my ribs.

“Ambrose… it hurts…” Millicent whimpered in his arms.

Ambrose scooped her up and shot me a cold, murderous glare. “If anything happens to her, you’re dead.”

Hours later, a servant finally found me and rushed me to the hospital.

The sharp scent of disinfectant stung my nose. The doctor studied the X-ray, his brows furrowed deeply. “Her third rib is fractured. We need to…”

“Draw her blood. Now!” Ambrose stormed into the exam room, his white shirt soaked in Millicent’s blood.

“She’s hemorrhaging. They have the same blood type.”

The doctor hesitated, glancing at my fragile figure. “But she’s severely malnourished. Drawing blood now could put her life at risk.”

Ambrose grabbed him by the collar, eyes burning. “This hospital belongs to the Walker family. Say one more word, and you’re out.”

A cold needle slid into my vein. Warm blood flowed slowly through the tube as though draining what little strength I had left.

Ambrose held out a cup. “Drink some water,” he said, an offer he had never made before.

I turned my head away, silent. With a sneer, he hurled the cup at the nightstand. It shattered with a sharp bang, just inches from my hand.

After they drew my blood, he walked out without sparing me a glance.

I lay there on the cold hospital bed, shivering between waves of fever and chills. My body trembled uncontrollably until darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke again, night had already fallen outside the window.

The IV bag still hung beside me, half full of nutrient solution. Just outside the door, I heard Alora Walker’s piercing voice echoing through the hallway.

“Bitch! Can’t even bear a child, and now you want to curse the entire Walker bloodline?”

The door burst open with a violent kick.

Before I could even whisper the word “Mom,” her hand struck across my cheek. The sting shot through my skull, leaving me dizzy and stunned.

“You want a divorce so badly? Then get out! Now!” Her usual gentle mask had twisted into something ugly and cruel. “If it weren’t for your family’s connections, do you really think we’d let a barren hen like you into our home?”

My lips moved, but all I could manage was a hoarse, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She didn’t look back. After striking me, she stormed off toward Millicent’s ward.

My fingers instinctively brushed my lower abdomen.

There had once been a child there, too.

That day, Ambrose had insisted I join them for a “fun” racing game.

I remembered how Millicent had turned to me with a wicked smile. And then, without warning, she floored the accelerator and crashed her go-kart straight into mine.

I tumbled to the ground in agony, clutching my stomach, while Ambrose’s voice rang cold in the air, calm and careless.

“She’s just a kid. Don’t take it so seriously. She was only playing.”

They left me lying there at the edge of the track, like discarded debris, without even glancing back.

I lost the baby. While I was confined to a hospital bed, recovering from the miscarriage, Millicent sent video after video of her and Ambrose vacationing in the Maldives. Laughing. Smiling. As if nothing had happened.

But there had been good days once.

When we first got married, Ambrose would bring home desserts from my favorite bakery. Even when he worked late, he’d quietly tiptoe through the door, careful not to wake me. Back then, I really believed this marriage, arranged by our grandparents, might grow into something real. A home. A future.

But my father saw wealth and wanted more.

Believing I had married into gold, he shamelessly asked the Walker family for money. Again and again.

Then came that one roadshow.

He barged into the event, drunk and loud, shattering everything I had worked for.

“Ambrose! My daughter married you, and this is how you treat your father-in-law? Give me five hundred thousand, or I’ll tell the media she’s in love with someone else!”

The entire event collapsed in chaos. My reputation along with it.

And when he died in a drunk driving accident not long after, Ambrose didn’t even show up to the funeral.

All of it came rushing back, every moment, every wound. Tears streamed silently down my face.

That night, a high fever consumed me. My body burned at 39 degrees. In my fevered haze, I thought I saw him sitting by my bed, brows drawn in concern.

But when I opened my eyes, there was no one there.

I scrolled through my Instagram feed, my heart sinking as I saw Millicent’s latest post. Ambrose had bought her a yacht. And to make it worse, he’d named it after her, Millicent.

Before I could even process it, my phone rang, shattering my thoughts.

“Hello, Mrs. Walker. This is Evander Russell from Orion Banquet Planning,” a cheerful voice greeted me. “President Walker specifically instructed us to reserve the finest venue for your baby’s hundred-day banquet and arranged a professional photography team…”

I didn’t let him finish. I hung up the phone, feeling a lump form in my throat as if my words had been swallowed by thick cotton.

The day I was discharged came, but no one came to pick me up. I hailed a cab, dragging my recovering body back to the villa.

When I pushed open the door, I found Millicent lounging on the sofa, sipping vegetable soup. A servant knelt before her, gently massaging her feet.

“Oh, you’re back?” she sneered.

Then, Ambrose appeared, descending the stairs. His frown deepened when he saw me. “Jasmine, from today on, you’ll be in charge of preparing Millicent’s meals. She’s been struggling with severe morning sickness, and you need to…”

Before he could finish, I turned and walked straight toward the basement, not sparing him a glance.

Ambrose kicked my suitcase, sending it flying, clothes scattering across the floor like broken dreams.

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’m talking to you. Are you deaf?”

I stared at him, my voice unnervingly calm. “Since Millicent’s pregnant, let’s just get a divorce. I’ll move out, and you can take care of her.”

For a moment, he froze, and then, in a flash, his rage erupted. He slammed me into the wall. “Jasmine! What are you pretending now?!”

His breath was hot against my face. “Don’t worry. As long as you behave, the title of Mrs. Walker will always be yours.”

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound echoing through the room. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

For eight years, what had that title ever given me except mockery?

I had studied Michelin-star cuisine for him, only to watch him flirt with other women at restaurants. I had tried to dress the way he liked, only to overhear him mock me on the phone, calling me a cheap knockoff.

For a brief second, his expression softened, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by cold indifference. “Jasmine, don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.”

I bent down to pick up my scattered clothes, and my fingers brushed against something. It was a photo, half-hidden in the suitcase. It was from when we first got married. In that picture, Ambrose was smiling at me with a warmth that seemed genuine, a love I could hardly believe ever existed.

Just as I was dragging my suitcase toward the door, my phone rang.

“Hello? Is this the family of Olivia Easton? She took a fall and was brought to our hospital. We suspect she has a cerebral hemorrhage and may need emergency brain surgery. Please come as soon as possible.”

The blood drained from my face.

I spun around, my nails digging into my palm. “Ambrose! Can I borrow a hundred thousand? My grandmother…”

Years of being the perfect wife, obedient and dutiful, had never prepared me for this. Now, when I needed help the most, I realized I didn’t even have a hundred thousand to my name.

His dark expression shifted into one of amusement. Slowly, he loosened his tie. “Oh? What a coincidence.”

Millicent had somehow sidled up to him, drawing circles on his chest with her finger.

“Sister Jasmine,” she said in her syrupy voice, “I just heard last week that your grandma’s in great shape, still dancing in the village square!”

She tilted her head, offering a fake, innocent smile. “Lying about your grandma to get money? That’ll bring bad karma.”

Ambrose’s gaze turned cold.

He pulled a stack of checks from his wallet, waving them in front of me. “A hundred thousand, sure.”

A cruel smile curled at the corners of his lips. “But first, go buy us some condoms.”

I bit down hard on my lip, the taste of blood flooding my mouth.

“Fine.” The word was squeezed out through clenched teeth. Behind me, Millicent chirped, “Make sure they’re strawberry-flavored.”

I rushed out into the pouring rain, tears, and rainwater blurring my vision. The clerk at the convenience store gave me a strange look, but I no longer cared.

When I returned, panting and soaked, the lights upstairs were on. I could faintly hear Millicent’s coquettish giggles and Ambrose’s low groans.

Suddenly, the door opened. Ambrose leaned lazily against the doorframe, looking down at me.

“Go wash Millicent’s underwear.”

His voice was light, almost casual, but it cut through me like a knife.

I clenched my fists; my head lowered as I walked to the bathroom.

Cold water ran over my fingers as I mechanically scrubbed the lace fabric, the sounds from upstairs growing more humiliating with each passing second.

Finally, I trembled as I knocked on the bedroom door.