From my earliest memories, my entire family is cold and distant toward me.

When my parents look at my younger sister, Claire Lloyd, their eyes fill with warmth and joy. Yet, when they turn to me, only disgust remains. Claire's life is filled with applause and excessive love, while mine is filled with disdain and suffering.

When the explosion erupts at the street corner, I save the stranger beside me. Later, I learn he is Byron Whitmore, a mafia family's Don.

He begins pursuing me after I rescue him. Later, I quit my job and move to a new place, but he finds me and proposes in 100 different ways.

"Why me?" I ask countless times.

"Because it's you," he always answers.

The wedding causes a sensation throughout the city. I truly seem to have transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan.

That is, until I'm five months pregnant, when Claire needs a transfusion of rare Rh-negative blood after a car accident. The blood bank has a shortage. Because of that, my parents knock me unconscious and send me to the hospital.

In my daze, the blood extraction machine hums continuously. As two thousand milliliters of blood leave my body, I see Byron.

Tears well up in my eyes. I begin thinking he's here to save me. Instead, I hear him say, "We can't take any more. Sharon and the baby will die."

"But Claire has lost too much blood. She'll die, too..." My mother pleads.

"No one wants Claire safe more than I do." Byron's voice is thick with pain. "She's my first love. I've never forgotten her. I only married Sharon because her face looks so much like Claire's.

"But I can't trade her life for Claire's. Trust me—I'll find another way."

So, that's his reason for marrying me. The blood extraction machine continues running, but my heart has already stopped beating.

The affection I see in his eyes has never been for me. He's always looking through me at someone else. Everyone in the world loves Claire, and Byron is not the exception that I foolishly believe him to be.

That grand wedding is nothing but an ugly duckling's self-deceiving fantasy.

When I was five months pregnant, my twin sister Claire Lloyd got into a car accident and lost a lot of blood. My parents knocked me unconscious and forced me to give Claire a transfusion of Rh-negative blood.

In my daze, I heard my husband Byron Whitmore's voice. "I only married Sharon because her face looks so much like Claire's. Claire is my first love. I've never forgotten her.

"But I can't trade my wife's life for Claire's. Trust me—I'll find another way."

When I woke up in the hospital bed, no one was around. The needle mark on my arm throbbed with dull pain as memories flooded back.

When I was six years old, my parents clutched my drowned brother's body in anguish.

Back then, Claire had pointed at me through her tears. "Oliver went looking for Sharon. That's why he fell into the pond. It's all her fault."

After that, my parents looked at me with cold, merciless eyes. At the dinner table, the freshly made meal would always go to Claire, while I could only eat the leftovers.

When I had a 104-degree fever, they ignored me completely because they were too busy celebrating Claire's birthday. The house was covered with Claire's photos, and the only family portrait that included me had disappeared at some point.

In high school, Claire and her friends cornered me in the bathroom and cursed at me, calling me an ugly freak and murderer. Those words cut like knives, slicing through my already shattered heart over and over.

I truly believed I was a criminal who didn't deserve any love—until I met Byron.

That day, amid the sound of the explosion, he collapsed in a pool of blood. Blood stained his white shirt, but he looked so captivating. I had never seen such a handsome man in my entire life.

So, when everyone else fled in panic, I fought against the crowd and ran toward him, carrying him on my back step by step to the hospital. I never expected this man, brilliant as a star, wouldn't be disgusted by the ugly scar on my face.

After he woke up, he found me where I was hiding and cut his own chin with a blade. "Now I look like you. Will you accept me now?"

At our wedding, he wiped the tears from the corner of my eye. "From now on, you're my princess. I'll protect you and won't let anyone hurt you."

The days after our marriage were blissful—so blissful that I almost believed I had found true love. It lasted until just now, when I heard him tell my parents that Claire was his first love, that he could never forget her.

The sharp pain in my chest made my abdomen tighten in waves. I pressed the call button, but no one came for a long time. Clutching my stomach, I weakly climbed out of bed and stopped a nurse in the hallway.

"Please, save my baby..."

The nurse glanced at me. "We need to prioritize VIP patients. You're a regular patient, so you'll have to wait."

The door to the VIP room next door was closed, and Claire was inside. I saw my parents anxiously holding her hand while Byron sat at the foot of her bed, gazing at her tenderly.

At the end of the hallway, Claire's best friend, Andrea Campbell, was on the phone. She was saying something in a low voice, "The blood loss and coma are fake. The car accident was a setup. Claire just wants to get Byron back..."

My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and recorded everything. Then, I stumbled into the doctor's office. "I want an abortion."

The doctor pushed up his glasses. "The fetus is developing well. It would be such a shame. Why don't you think it over?"

"I've already thought it over."

"In that case, come find me at 2:00 pm."

"No problem, but I have one request. Please keep this confidential."

At noon, Byron walked into the room carrying a thermos. "I made chicken soup, your favorite."

I smiled bitterly. I didn't actually like chicken soup. Claire was the one who loved chicken soup.

When we first got married, Byron thought I was too thin and specifically instructed the maids to make me nutritional soup. I even explained to him, "I don't drink chicken soup, but any other soup is fine."

But now, Byron had completely forgotten about it.

I touched the thermos' cold surface. "Why'd you come so late?"

"I got held up with something." His eyes flickered.

When I opened the container, there was barely any soup inside. It seemed he had given most of it to Claire first.

At that moment, his phone rang, and he answered in a low voice. "What? She's awake? Okay, I'll be right there."

After hanging up, he stammered, "Something came up at work. I'll be back soon."

Watching his hurried departure, tears streamed down my face. When the appointed time came that afternoon, I walked into the doctor's office for the abortion.

I felt sorry for my baby, but my life had been too bitter. I just wanted to be chosen for once, truly and without hesitation. If that wasn't possible, then I'd leave the Lloyd family and Byron Whitmore without anything holding me back.

When I came out of the operating room, my legs were still trembling. As I passed the VIP room, the scene inside made me stop in my tracks.

"Claire, this is your favorite chicken soup from when you were little." Mom took the soup out of the microwave, carefully tested the temperature, and handed it to Dad.

He took it, blew on it gently several times, and only passed it to Byron after confirming it wasn't too hot. And Byron, the man who once said he only loved me, carefully scooped up a spoonful and brought it to Claire's lips.

"Drink slowly. Don't burn yourself." His voice was so tender it was painful to hear.

Claire shyly opened her mouth, but her gaze drifted over his shoulder and met mine at the door. A flash of triumph crossed her eyes before she quickly replaced it with a worried expression.

"How's Sharon? This is all my fault. I was driving too fast, trying to deliver that scarf she loves so much..."

I froze at the doorway. Scarf? I never liked scarves. Growing up, I never owned a single decent scarf. Claire, on the other hand, had a whole closet full of expensive ones.

Mom frowned in disgust. "She's always causing trouble, and now you're the one who got hurt."

Those words burned my heart as memories came flooding back.

When I was eight years old, Claire lost her footing and fell off a cliff. I desperately grabbed her hand, and a sharp rock sliced a long gash across my left cheek.

When my parents arrived, they only comforted Claire as she cried. None of them noticed my face bleeding profusely.

"What kind of sister are you?" Dad had demanded harshly.

When I was 16, Claire got into trouble with some thugs from outside school. I went to rescue her and nearly got beaten to death.

When we got home, my parents didn't offer a single word of concern. Instead, they blamed me for not watching over Claire properly.

In this family, I was always wrong. Over time, even I came to believe it. I was a criminal who didn't deserve love.

Until I met Byron.

When I had cramps, he stayed up all night rubbing my stomach, bringing me heating pads and tea. After I got pregnant, he patiently dried my hair and trimmed my toenails.

Those tender moments made me think someone finally loved me. But as it turned out, he never loved me at all. He loved my sister.

Tears blurred my vision. I dragged my weak body home, one step at a time. I had just booked a ticket on the earliest flight the day after tomorrow when I heard the door lock click.

Byron walked in, carrying Claire. My parents followed behind them. When they saw me, everyone froze.

"Why did you discharge yourself?" Byron frowned. "You didn't even tell me."

Claire nestled in his arms, secretly flashing a triumphant smile.

"Claire was worried about you. She wants to stay here for a while to keep you company," Mom explained. "We thought it was a good idea, so we brought her over."

I turned without a word and walked toward the bedroom. Behind me, I heard Dad's rebuke. "She can't even welcome her own sister. She's just so cold-blooded."

Byron called after me anxiously, but Claire suddenly cried out that she felt dizzy in his arms. My parents immediately crowded around her, fussing over her.

Byron shouted urgently, "Quick, give her the medicine!"

The entire living room descended into chaos. No one noticed my face, which was as pale as paper, or my body hunched over in pain.

I once thought I had finally found happiness, that I had a man who only had eyes for me and loved me wholeheartedly. But it was all just wishful thinking.

Late into the night, Byron finally returned to the bedroom. His hand gently touched my abdomen. "I'm sorry, baby. Daddy will take good care of you and Mommy from now on."

I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. His palm was still warm, but all I felt was bone-chilling cold.

That place was already empty, but that was something he'd never find out.

The next morning, the bedroom door swung open, and Byron pulled me into the dining room. "Claire cooked for you herself. She wants to make amends."

The table was covered with dishes. Claire limped out of the kitchen carrying the last plate, her smile sweet. "Sharon, I made all your favorites."

"She knows you gave her blood to save her. She wanted to cook you a nice meal to make up for it." Byron's voice was gentle.

Mom and Dad were already seated, showering Claire with praise. "Your leg hasn't even healed, and you're already thinking of others. How thoughtful."

I glanced at the table. There were shrimp, crab, and scallops. Every single dish contained seafood that would give me a severe allergic reaction.

A memory tore open like a wound. When I was ten years old, Claire secretly chopped up shrimp meat and mixed it into ravioli filling. After I ate it, my whole body swelled up, and I could barely breathe, nearly going into shock.

Claire had laughed hysterically outside the emergency room. "Look at how ugly she looks! She's even uglier than before!"

In the present, I turned my head away. "I can't eat this. I'm allergic to seafood."

Claire's mouth immediately trembled with hurt when she heard that.

Mom's and Dad's faces darkened. "Claire worked all morning on this. Just have a few bites. It'll be fine."

Byron frowned. "Claire meant well. Just eat first. I'll take you to the hospital afterward."

My chest felt like it had been hit with a blunt object. I shoved my chair back and ran out. I stood alone by the lake, letting the wind blow against me. Soon, light footsteps approached from behind.

"You really don't appreciate anything, do you?" Claire's voice dropped all pretense. Her limp was gone, too.

I asked calmly, "What exactly do you want?"

She laughed lightly. "I'm Byron's first love. Back then, I just thought he was some poor nobody. I didn't know he'd become so powerful. Now, I'm taking him back. Someone like you doesn't deserve anyone's love, especially not his."

Each word was like a poisoned needle piercing my heart. I knew I was ugly, but hearing my own sister say it still made me shake with pain.

"You know what?" She leaned close to my ear. "You're not just ugly. You're stupid, too."

I froze, confused by what she meant.

"I'm so beautiful and well-behaved, so of course I should be the only princess. Seeing you with a face just like mine makes me sick every time.

"When we were eight, I fell off that cliff on purpose. I knew you'd come save me. I calculated exactly where to position myself so you'd get that scar.

"Oliver's death had nothing to do with you, either. I threw his toy into the pond and tricked him into going after it.

"Once Mom and Dad thought you killed Oliver, they stopped loving you. I wanted the whole world to hate and abandon you!"

I could barely believe my own ears. The sister I desperately saved was the one who made me get this scar, the one who caused our brother to drown!

Some people were just born evil, doing such terrible things even at such a young age.

My whole body went cold. "After doing so many terrible things, aren't you afraid of karma? Aren't you afraid I'll tell everyone?"

"Who would believe you?" Her laughter was cruel. "They only believe what they want to believe."

With that, she shoved me hard into the lake. The icy water instantly closed over my head. I couldn't swim. I instinctively opened my mouth to call for help, but only swallowed mouthfuls of water.

I thrashed desperately, but felt myself sinking deeper and deeper. As my consciousness faded, I saw Claire on the shore, laughing wildly.

I barely managed to grab onto a rock at the edge and pull myself out, only to see Byron's figure appear in the distance. The moment Claire spotted him, she jumped into the lake and screamed for help.

Byron didn't hesitate. He dove in and quickly pulled her to shore.

Claire clung to him, crying. "I was worried about Sharon, so I followed her here. I don't understand why she pushed me..."

I tried desperately to explain, but Byron only frowned and glanced at me once. His eyes were cold and disappointed. He scooped Claire up and walked away without looking back.

I lay alone on the shore, soaking wet, shivering from the cold. Between Claire and me, he chose Claire, even though I was his wife. To his knowledge, I was still pregnant, yet he didn't choose me.

This time, my heart truly died.