"I love Leo Gilbert. I love him, and I love our son just as fiercely. How could I possibly hurt him?"

Leo's voice cut through the basement's stagnant air like a blade of ice. "Beth Henson, I didn't believe your lies then, and I don't believe them now. Since you enjoy performing, I'll let you act until you break."

He barked into his phone, his tone devoid of mercy. "Double the leeches. Now."

The moment the order fell, a black, writhing tide poured from the vents above the iron cage. The mass of slick parasites instantly submerged my son's small, frail body.

Joey's faint, terrified cries were silenced in a heartbeat.

"No!"

Adrenaline surged through me, fueled by a mother's pure despair. I grabbed a heavy wooden stool, pivoting with a strength I didn't know I possessed, and swung it at the guard blocking my path.

Wood cracked against bone.

I didn't stop. I swung again and again, a red haze clouding my vision. Only when the guard collapsed, blood masking his face as he feebly held out the key in surrender, did I freeze. My chest heaved, my eyes burning. I snatched the key, my hands trembling so violently I could barely fit it into the lock.

When I finally threw the cage door open and pulled my son into my arms, the silence was deafening.

He was terrifyingly cold. I pressed my ear to his chest, desperate for a sound, a breath, a flutter.

Nothing.

I gritted my teeth, fighting the darkness encroaching on my vision. I hoisted Joey's limp body against my chest and stumbled toward the exit.

Behind me, the battered guard let out a vicious wheeze. "Don't waste your energy. Mr. Gilbert ordered every car on the property destroyed because Miss Fox didn't like the look of them. Accept your fate, Mrs. Henson. Young Master Joseph is destined to die in this basement."

Despair clawed at my throat. My knees buckled, and the world began to tilt into blackness.

Bang!

The basement door flew open, slamming against the concrete wall. A deafening roar of an engine echoed from outside, followed by heavy, frantic footsteps. A tall figure sprinted toward me, silhouetted against the blinding light from the doorway.

"Beth! I have a plane standing by! It's faster—we can get Joey to the hospital in minutes!"

Benjamin Swanson. My brother.

Seeing him was like finding a lifeline in a drowning sea. A spark of hope ignited in the ashes of my terror.

Five minutes later, I rushed into the emergency wing of the Gilbert Family Hospital, clutching my son's bloodied, leech-bitten body.

I grabbed Dr. Howard by the lapels of his white coat, my dignity forgotten. "Dr. Howard, please! I'm begging you. Save him! He's dying!"

Dr. Howard refused to meet my gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his voice dropping to a shameful whisper. "Mrs. Henson... it's not that we don't want to save him. But Mr. Gilbert issued a death order. The hospital is currently cleared to receive only Miss Fox. No other patients are to be admitted."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My legs gave out, and I would have collapsed if Benjamin hadn't caught me.

His face contorted with rage, Benjamin whipped out his phone and dialed Leo.

"Leo!" he roared the moment the line connected. "Joey is dying! Order Dr. Howard to treat him immediately, or I swear you will regret this for the rest of your miserable life!"

Through the speaker, the wet, sickening sounds of intimacy were unmistakable.

After a long, agonizing pause, Leo's voice filtered through, dripping with disdain. "Beth really has talent. She even dragged you, her favorite adulterer, into her little play. I still haven't settled the score with you for the night she drugged me and crawled into your bed."

"Leo, you bastard!"

I snatched the phone from Benjamin's hand, screaming into the receiver. "Joey is your biological son! He was trapped in the leech pit! He's covered in wounds and he's not breathing! Tell the doctor to save him!"

Leo scoffed, a sound cruel enough to freeze blood. "Eva is pregnant with my twins. If the idiot dies, he dies. Stop making a fuss over nothing."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The line went dead.

Every word had been a dagger. If the idiot dies, he dies.

Benjamin stared at the phone, his brows knitted in fury and confusion. He wanted to call back, to explain the truth—that we were siblings, that there was no affair—but the damage was done.

I met my brother's worried gaze and offered a broken, miserable smile.

Memories surged like a tidal wave.

I was five years old when Lily Gilbert took me from the orphanage and brought me to the Gilbert estate. From that day on, I was Leo's shadow.

I remembered a sunny afternoon in the garden. We were playing, tumbling through the grass, when we accidentally fell, our lips brushing in an innocent, accidental kiss. The young Leo had turned beet red. He shoved me away and ran off, flustered and embarrassed.

I had sat there in the grass, clutching my knees, worrying about how I would ever coax the angry young master into forgiving me.

How did we get here? I wondered, looking at my dying son. How did that little boy become this monster?

Memory washed over me, sharp and bright.

I was a child again, and Leo Gilbert was shoving his piggy bank into my arms.

"Beth, this is everything I have." His cheeks flushed, his gaze burning with earnest intensity far beyond his years. "I kissed you, so I have to take responsibility. When we grow up, you have to marry me."

Before I could even blink, he grabbed my hand, dragging me to his mother, begging her to formalize our engagement right then and there.

Throughout the hazy, innocent days of our youth, Leo was my shadow. If any other boy dared confess his feelings to me, Leo would produce that childhood betrothal agreement like a weapon, fiercely defending his claim.

After college, he couldn't wait. He threw himself into planning our wedding with obsessive detail.

But on the eve of the ceremony, everything shattered.

I lost consciousness after a drink. When I woke, the world was spinning, and Leo stood over the bed, his face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. Lying beside me was my older brother, Benjamin.

Leo's eyes were bloodshot, his voice dripping with ice.

"Eva was right." His gaze raked over me with disgust. "You're rotten to the core. A cheap, lying slut."

He hated me. God, how he hated me. Yet through gritted teeth, he forced the wedding to continue to save face. But after that day, he never touched me again. He looked at me as if I were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

And now...

The memory dissolved into the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. The small body in my arms was growing colder by the second.

I didn't care about dignity. I didn't care about pride.

Thud.

I dropped to my knees on the freezing tile. I slammed my forehead against the ground. Once. Twice. Again.

"Dr. Howard! I'm begging you! Save my Joey!"

Benjamin tried to pull me up, his hands shaking, but I was immovable. I kept kowtowing, striking the floor until my skin split and blood ran into my eyes.

"As long as you save Joey, I'll be your servant! I'll be your slave! Please!"

Dr. Howard looked at the blood smearing the floor, then at Joey, whose chest was barely rising. His resolve crumbled. "Get the child to the ER! Now!"

The doors swung shut, severing me from my son.

Minutes felt like hours. When Dr. Howard emerged, the look in his eyes stopped my heart cold. Profound, crushing regret.

"Mrs. Henson... I'm sorry. We missed the window. Go see Joey. It... it will be the last time."

My mind went blank. The world tilted as I staggered into the operating room.

Joey lay there, so small in the sterile bed. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.

"Mom..." His voice was a thread of sound, barely a whisper. "I'm sorry. I wasn't good. I made you and Dad fight again."

Tears blinded me as I gripped his cooling hand.

"Joey won't be naughty anymore," he breathed.

As the last word left his lips, the light faded from his eyes. His small hand went limp in mine.

"Joey?"

Silence.

I clutched my son's lifeless body and screamed. It wasn't a sound—it was a physical tearing of my soul, my heart gouged out while I was still alive. The pain was absolute. Suffocating.

I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe.

I scrambled up, blind with grief, and rammed my head toward the concrete wall. I just wanted to go with him.

Benjamin was faster. He caught me, wrapping his arms around me in a vice grip, pulling me back from the edge.

"Beth! Don't be stupid!" His voice broke. "Divorce Leo. I'm taking you away from here."

I went limp in his arms, sliding to the floor. Benjamin's fists clenched so hard his knuckles went white, his eyes burning with murderous rage.

"Don't worry, Beth," he hissed. "Joey won't die in vain. I will make Leo pay. Blood for blood."

I leaned against the cold wall, drained of everything—hope, love, fear. I slowly shook my head.

"The Gilbert family took me in when I was an orphan. That was a debt of raising me," I whispered, my voice hollow. "Leo saved my life once. That was a debt of survival."

I looked at my dead son.

"I have owed them for a lifetime. But today... the debts are paid."

"From this moment on, between me and the Gilbert family, between me and Leo... we owe each other nothing. Until death takes me, I will never have anything to do with him again."

The debt of survival.

My mind drifted back to my eighteenth birthday. Leo had insisted on taking me to the mall to pick out a gift.

We had just walked through the doors when the nightmare began. Terrorists seized the building, firing blindly into the crowd. Panic erupted.

Leo didn't hesitate. He grabbed my hand, dragging me into a remote fire escape.

But they found us.

A bullet whizzed past my ear. I froze, paralyzed.

Leo threw himself over me, pinning me to the floor, using his broad back as a human shield.

"Beth, close your eyes," he whispered, his voice steady despite the chaos. "It'll be over soon. I won't let anything happen to you."

He took three bullets for me that day.

He spent two weeks in the ICU, hovering between life and death. It took him over a year to fully recover. During rehabilitation, he withered to skin and bones.

Yet even then, he would smile at me, weak but adoring.

"Luckily, they didn't hit anything vital," he'd said, brushing a tear from my cheek. "Otherwise, who would be left to protect you?"

Who would protect you?

The irony tasted like ash. The man who once took a bullet to save me had become the executioner of our son.

Reality crashed back down. With trembling hands, I straightened my son's small, cold body.

I dressed him in his favorite bear-patterned sweater, smoothing the fabric one last time before lowering him into the icy coffin.

Tucked beside him were two documents I'd guarded with my life—proof of my virginity and a DNA test confirming Benjamin Swanson was my brother.

Benjamin stood beside me, voice thick. "Why bury these, Beth? Why not shove them in Leo's face? He owes you your innocence."

My eyes burned, dry and red-rimmed. No tears left.

"I've explained it to him countless times," I whispered. "In his heart, he condemned me long ago."

Reluctance clawed at my chest as I lowered the lid. "Let these truths stay here. Let them sleep with Joey forever."

Once the arrangements were settled, I picked up my phone and dialed the number etched into my memory.

"Leo." My voice held no warmth. "Joey is dead. I'll send the divorce papers. Sign them, and we're done."

His rage was instantaneous. "Drop the act, Beth."

"Did you plan this? Faking our son's death so you could run off with your lover? It won't work!"

Benjamin snatched the phone. "Leo! I'm Benjamin Swanson—Beth's biological brother!"

"Brother?" Leo scoffed. "Convenient title for your lover."

Eva's voice cut in, dripping with sweetness. "Oh, Beth! I just found out I'm pregnant. I meant to ask—which medicines should I avoid? I wouldn't want to be like you, carelessly taking the wrong pills and giving birth to a retard."

Grief and fury exploded within me.

"Shut up! Joey wasn't a retard!"

Silence stretched for a few seconds before Leo's dark chuckle broke through.

"You two really are singing the same tune. You want me to believe you? Unless I see Joey's corpse with my own eyes, don't waste my time."

The next day, the small coffin was lowered into the earth at the cemetery.

I knelt before the fresh mound, fingers tracing the cold stone over and over: Beloved Son, Joseph Gilbert.

"Beth, you certainly know how to commit to a role."

Leo walked toward me, holding Eva's hand, expression dark.

I didn't look up. "What are you doing here? Leave. Don't disturb Joey's peace."

"Rumors are spreading through the capital's elite. They say my son is dead." He stopped directly in front of me, towering over my kneeling form. A mocking smirk played on his lips. "For such a major event, how could I not come see for myself?"

Eva rested a hand on her flat stomach, sneering. "Honestly, Beth, your acting is top-tier. Even the grave looks authentic."

She pulled out her phone and held it to Leo. "Look—Joey's having a blast abroad. How could he be dead?"

On the screen, a child who looked like Joey ran through an amusement park, smiling.

My breath hitched.

Before I could speak, Leo moved.

He wound his hand into my hair and yanked my head back hard enough to make my neck crack. Pain radiated across my scalp as he forced me to meet his eyes.

"Beth, you sick, twisted woman!"

His eyes were bloodshot, burning with rage.

"To force a divorce, to run off with your adulterer... you used our son's death as a bargaining chip? How can you be this cruel?"