When he saw blood streaming from my eye, he finally tried to help me up.

“Are you okay? Give me Zoey’s work first, then we’ll go to the hospital!”

But from the other side of the venue came Zoey’s shrill scream.

Ethan’s face changed instantly, and he looked at me with pleading eyes.

I stayed cold and pulled away from his hand.

“Go if you want. We’re not married yet — you’re you, and I’m me.”

My words struck him, and he froze.

“Claire, stop overthinking. I’m just going to check on Zoey. Wait here for me, don’t go anywhere!”

I forced myself outside despite the pain.

Ethan’s Tesla Model S was already waiting at the entrance.

Just as I reached for the door handle, Ethan rushed past me like the wind, carrying Zoey in his arms as he jumped into the car.

I stood there, stunned, watching the car roar away before my vision went black.

When I woke up, I was already in the hospital.

My right eye was wrapped in gauze and throbbed faintly.

“Why did you run out and faint on the street? I told you to wait where you were!”

“That was so dangerous!”

When he saw my indifferent expression, Ethan put his arm around my shoulders and softened his voice.

“Claire, the exhibition is about to open. We’ve invited many international partners this time — we can’t afford any mistakes. I worked so hard to get here from being a nobody. This international show is my first step onto the global stage!”

“You’ll be happy for me, right?”

I lowered my head, sarcasm flashing in my eyes.

Ethan had built his reputation with my resources, gaining fame domestically.

But without breaking into the international market, he would eventually fade away.

Three years ago, when my mother fell ill, she needed a bone marrow match to survive.

The transplant was successful, but she still passed away six months later.

“I poured the entire studio’s resources into supporting you. You even saved my mom’s life. How could I not be happy for you? Ethan, isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? You’ve worked for years for this day. Why would you even ask me that?”

Hearing my words, Ethan finally relaxed and tried to pull me into his arms.

“It’s just that facing the international market for the first time makes me nervous. You just had a miscarriage and still helped me check the venue — you must be exhausted.”

“When this exhibition is over, I’ll take you to Alaska to see the Northern Lights, just the two of us.”

I gave a soft “mm” and pulled away from his arms.

He looked startled, but I waved him off.

“Go handle your business first.”

Inside, I laughed bitterly.

He was shameless beyond belief.

Then Ethan gestured toward the door, and a middle-aged woman came in.

“Your eyesight isn’t good right now, so I arranged for a caregiver, Mrs. Thompson, to take care of you. Call her if you need anything.”

I looked up and saw a broad-shouldered woman. I didn’t think too much of it.

Ethan had always been meticulous.

But deep down, I knew — the caregiver was here to monitor me, not to take care of me.

As Ethan left, I heard his low voice clearly.

“If she does anything unusual, call me immediately. Grant all her requests except discharge.”

“Oh, and slip her the sleeping pills later. Once she’s out cold, take that container away.”

Container? Mom?

He wasn’t supposed to have a mom — he told me he was an orphan.

A chill ran down my back.

My fists clenched tight.

I needed to run.

Mrs. Thompson entered again, bringing me a bowl of soup and a small capful of medicine.

“The doctor prescribed this for you. Take it.”

She stared at me until I swallowed the pills.

“Mrs. Thompson, my eye hurts a bit. I need to rest.”

She nodded and went to wash the dishes.

When she came back, she saw me lying still and assumed I was asleep.

She went straight for my baby’s container.

I suddenly grabbed her hand.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped in shock.

“Ms. Summers, I thought you were asleep!”

“I’m just following Mr. Hayes’s orders. Please don’t make this harder on me.”

She shook off my hand and grabbed the container.

I lunged forward to stop her.

“Let go of it! Do you hear me?”

She slapped me so hard I fell back onto the bed.

Blood seeped through the gauze on my right eye.

“What are you doing! You’re just a caregiver — how dare you hit me?”

But Mrs. Thompson showed no fear, clutching the container tightly.

“As long as I get this out of here, my daughter’s future will be safe!”

Daughter?

I froze.

Of course — she was Zoey’s mother.

So Ethan had chosen her deliberately.

I staggered forward to stop her, but she kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me sliding across the floor.

I curled up, gagging, my lips trembling.

“Put it down! I’ve already called the police!”

Mrs. Thompson spat at me.

“Ha! Mr. Hayes will take care of it!”

Then she walked out without looking back.

I crawled back to the bed, barely breathing.

After what felt like an eternity, my phone rang.

“Thank you, Claire!”

I sneered.

“You’re thanking me too early, Ethan Hayes.”

“Claire Summers! Are you trying to ruin me?”

His furious roar echoed through the phone from the exhibition hall.

On the giant screen of the exhibition, a video was playing —

Zoey and Ethan, having sex in the studio.

When I first saw the video, my nails dug deep into my palm.

Especially when I heard Ethan moaning “Zoey” over and over, his hands groping her shamelessly.

That night, the entire exhibition went viral.

Screenshots flooded Facebook.

When Ethan stormed into the hospital room like a man possessed,

I calmly set down my book and glanced at him.

I had seen this scene before — but the roles had changed.

Years ago, when my mother was rushed into the ICU,

I had offered a huge reward for a donor, but everyone failed the match test.

When I was sitting hopelessly in the hospital,

I met Ethan, a street artist selling sketches.

He was the one match who succeeded.

I tried to pay him to settle the matter, but he refused any money — he only asked for a chance.

Maybe he truly was a struggling artist.

I gave him a little help,

and he shot to fame overnight.

Then he started pursuing me relentlessly.

He had saved my mom, he was talented, and little by little, I fell for him.

I poured all my resources into him — even accompanied him to clients’ drinking parties, drinking until I ended up in the hospital — and I never complained.

All I ever wanted was to see him succeed.

But I was left with lasting damage: getting pregnant would be hard, keeping a pregnancy even harder.

I can still hear the doctor’s sigh on the day I lost my only child.

“Miss, this pregnancy is gone. I’m afraid it may be difficult for you to conceive again—your uterus is extremely fragile.”

He wiped his eyes and comforted me, promising he would see that my barely formed baby was laid to rest with dignity.

And the result?

“Claire, what are you playing at?”

He slapped the book from my hands and clamped his fingers around my throat.

“Cut the act. Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on!”

His eyes were a little wild, but when they met my calm, flat stare, his momentum faltered.

“Do you have any idea? You’re not just destroying me—you’re destroying yourself! The entire studio’s resources are invested in me!”

My face flushed red under his grip; I couldn’t breathe.

I grabbed the soup bowl beside me and smashed it into his forehead.

Porcelain shards flew, nicking my face; blood streaked my eye, but my voice was cold as ice.

I stared him down. All of this was mine. If I chose to burn it down, so what?

“Ethan, after everything you’ve done, ruining you ten times over still wouldn’t be enough.”

“My baby was perfectly healthy. You used a fake prenatal report to make me terminate—just so Zoey could have her ‘artwork,’ right?”

“Wait and see. The thing you want most is the very thing you’re about to lose.”

Ethan sat there, blood running down his forehead, eyes wide.

“Claire! Don’t you dare!”

Before the words finished echoing, Zoey burst in sobbing.

Irritated, Ethan barked, “Stop crying! What happened?”

Startled by his tone, Zoey choked back her tears and glanced at me.

“Ethan… I—I don’t know who did it, but someone posted online that I took someone else’s spot when I got into school, and I… I—”

Ethan snapped his head toward me, ignoring the gash on his brow.

He grabbed me like a rag doll and threw me to the floor. “Claire! Are you trying to scorch the earth? What do you even gain from this?”

Endorsements and sponsorships Ethan had lined up for Zoey started demanding refunds.

Even many of Ethan’s own partnerships, waiting on a denial, pulled out as fresh scandals surfaced.

He went berserk, calling every PR firm he knew. He was willing to spend a fortune, but no one wanted to touch his mess.

It could have been salvageable—if I’d wanted it to be. I didn’t.

In the end, Ethan dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.

“I’ll take it down. I’ll return everything. I’ll go with you right now to give the baby a proper burial!”

I said nothing, just stared out the window.

Ethan yanked Zoey forward.

“If you’ll let me go, I’ll make Zoey disappear. I was wrong!”

“Help me clarify the video as art—say there was nothing between me and Zoey. Please.”

I turned my head and spoke slowly. “Fine. Go get ready for tomorrow’s exhibition. I’ll be there…”

Ecstatic, Ethan didn’t even let me finish before thanking me profusely and dragging Zoey out.

I murmured, “When a net tears, does it really take everything down with it?”

That night, just as I was getting ready for bed, staff brought armfuls of boxes into my room.

A few questions later, I learned Ethan had arranged it all.

Then the messages started flooding in from him:

“Claire, look at that gown—it’s the one we commissioned from the Italian designer. I rushed it!”