Five years into my marriage with the self-made financial mogul Julian Hayes, I finally became pregnant through IVF.

We were ecstatic. But at five months, I suffered an unexpected miscarriage. My doctor informed me it was due to a severe immune rejection from my body toward the embryo.

The news shattered me. I collapsed. Even Julian, a man forged from ice and self-control, wept. For a fleeting moment, I believed his heart was breaking with mine.

Until I overheard a conversation between him and his Chief Operating Officer.

"Julian, why pay off the doctor? It’s obvious Clara was poisoned. Why aren't we hunting down whoever did this?" Owen, his COO, sounded baffled.

"This investigation stops here." Julian's voice was heavy, choked with a pain I couldn’t comprehend. "It was Penelope. She accidentally put a toxin in Clara's supplements. You know she suffered that severe brain injury saving me three years ago. Her mind... it’s not right. It’s like a child’s now. She can’t tell a poisonous weed from a cooking herb..."

"She was only trying to help, to make Clara feel better, to make me happy. But if the board finds out, if the police get involved… they’ll crucify her. They’ll call it intentional assault."

Ever since Penelope had "saved" him three years ago and her mind supposedly regressed, she had brazenly wormed her way into our home.

On stormy nights, she’d slip into Julian's bed wearing my silk nightgown, crying that she was scared, and he’d hold her all night, leaving me to sleep alone in the guest room.

He always insisted her brain was damaged, that she was just a child. He treated her like a little sister and told me not to let it bother me.

Fine. If you love your precious Penelope so much, you can have her.

I picked up the private, encrypted phone I hadn't touched in five years. "I was wrong. I'm ready to come home. Come get me tomorrow."

But when I vanished for good, that arrogant man shattered his precious Penelope, then knelt at my feet, begging me to come back.

My Husband Faked My Miscarriage, and I Faked My Death

————————

————————

1

My five-month pregnancy ended in a sudden miscarriage. The official story from my doctor was a rare medical complication—my body had simply rejected the embryo.

My husband, Julian, held my hand, his grip crushing mine. Grief etched new lines onto his handsome face.

"Clara, we can try again," he whispered, his voice raw. "We'll have another baby."

His words were a distant buzz. Then, darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke in the sterile white of the hospital room, I overheard a hushed conversation from the hallway between Julian and his Chief Operating Officer, Owen.

"Julian, why pay off the doctor? It’s obvious Mrs. Hayes was poisoned. Why aren't we hunting down whoever did this?" Owen's voice was laced with confusion.

"We can't investigate." Julian's voice was heavy, thick with a suppressed anguish I didn't recognize. "It was Penelope. She… she accidentally put a toxin in Clara's supplements."

Owen gasped. "Penelope? Has she lost her mind?"

"She didn't mean it." Julian spoke quickly, as if desperate to convince Owen—or himself. "She suffered a severe head injury saving my life. Her mind is like a child's now. You know that, Owen."

"She was only trying to help with Clara's supplements. She was in the greenhouse this afternoon and must have mistaken a toxic plant for one of the medicinal herbs. She thought she was doing something good, trying to make Clara feel better, to make me happy."

Listening to his pathetic defense, I stared at the ceiling, a cold, sharp hatred churning in my gut.

That toxic plant and the supplement herbs looked and smelled nothing alike. How could anyone possibly confuse them?

Owen clearly wasn't buying it. "Julian, that's a hell of a stretch. Those plants don't even look—"

"Enough!" Julian's voice was a whip crack. "If the board learns about this, they won't care about excuses. The law will destroy her."

"She saved my life. I'd be dead if not for her three years ago. I can't just stand by and watch her go to prison."

"This discussion is over. The official story stands: it was an accident, a rejection. As for the baby… we can always have another."

We can always have another.

That single sentence annihilated the last shred of love I had for him.

Penelope saved his life. I understood his need to repay that debt. But was that reason enough to sacrifice me? To sacrifice our child?

On what grounds?

Ever since he brought Penelope to our Park Avenue penthouse three years ago, our marriage had devolved into a three-person circus.

Using her supposed "brain damage" as a shield, Penelope had insinuated herself into every corner of our lives.

On stormy nights, she’d slip into Julian's bed wearing my silk nightgown, crying that she was scared, and he’d hold her all night, leaving me to sleep alone in the guest room.

He always insisted her brain was damaged, that she was just a child. He treated her like a little sister and told me not to let it bother me.

When I was finalizing legal documents for a corporate merger, she’d "accidentally" spill red wine all over them, then blink her wide, innocent eyes and claim she only wanted to help me paint.

Julian would just pat her head with a helpless sigh and turn to me with a frown. "She doesn't know any better, Clara. Don't worry about it. Just have the legal team redraft them."

Six months ago, on my birthday, Julian had reserved the entire Per Se restaurant for a private evening for just the two of us.

Penelope suddenly had an "episode," smashing priceless antiques at home and gashing her arm with a shard from a shattered vase.

Julian abandoned me without a second thought, rushing back to cradle her until dawn.

I sat in that cavernous, empty restaurant until closing. He never even sent a text.

And I had tolerated it all.

I thought he loved me. I believed his feelings for Penelope were merely gratitude and a sense of duty.

Even at her worst, he would hold me afterward and apologize, whispering that he couldn't turn his back on the woman who had saved his life.

But my tolerance had run out.

I forced my aching body to sit up and pulled out the private, encrypted phone I hadn't touched in five years.

Julian never knew I was the sole heiress of the Beaumont family, a powerhouse dynasty on the North American West Coast.

Five years ago, I had defied my family to marry Julian, who was then just a brilliant up-and-comer on Wall Street.

My brother had once roared at me, telling me I was blinded by a fool's love and would live to regret it.

I had once boasted, "He would die for me."

To prove it, I cut all ties with my family and stayed with Julian in New York, building from nothing, helping him claw his way to the CEO's chair at Storm Capital.

It turned out my brother was right.

I was a complete and utter fool.

My fingers trembled as I dialed my brother’s number.

The call connected on the first ring.

A familiar, commanding voice answered, but underneath the authority, I heard a faint, hopeful tremor.

"Clara? Is that you?"

It was my brother, Donovan, the current head of the Beaumont family. The most powerful man on the West Coast.

"You were right," I said, each word a shard of glass in my throat. "I regret everything. I'm ready to come home. Come get me tomorrow."

I hung up and, ignoring the doctor's protests, discharged myself and went straight back to our Park Avenue penthouse.

When I pushed open the master bedroom door, I found Penelope clinging to Julian.

She was draped in one of my silk nightgowns, the fabric so sheer it left nothing to the imagination.

She wore nothing underneath. Her full breasts were pressed against Julian's arm, the movement deliberate with every breath she took.

Julian sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, a financial report in his hand, a slight frown creasing his brow.

He tried to pull his arm away, his voice edged with exasperation. "Penelope, put some proper clothes on. I'm your guardian. This isn't appropriate."

Penelope didn't budge.

Instead, she burrowed deeper into his side, her lower lip trembling as her eyes welled with tears.

"Julian, don't you want me anymore? Am I not pretty?"

"I just want a hug. You always used to hug me. Did I do something wrong? Sob..."

The cloying baby talk, coming from her mature, seductive body, made my stomach churn.

Julian's resolve crumbled.

He sighed, no longer pushing her away, and patted her back. "Stop crying. That's not what I meant. Of course I care about you."

Penelope buried her face in the crook of his neck with a contented sigh.

But from an angle Julian couldn't see, she lifted her head, her eyes locking onto mine in the doorway.

There was no childish innocence in her gaze—only brazen provocation and a victor's smirk.

I didn't storm in and pull them apart as I might have before. I just watched them, a frozen stillness settling over my heart.

Julian finally noticed me.

He shot to his feet as if electrocuted, shoving Penelope away so hard she stumbled and collided with the nightstand.

Ignoring her cry of pain, he rushed toward me, his face a mask of flustered panic. "Clara, you're back? How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?"

He tried to cover his embarrassment, reaching for me. "Don't just stand there, come lie down. That was nothing. Penelope was just having one of her tantrums. You know she doesn't mean anything by it, so don't take it to heart."

I sidestepped his touch.

He had just been holding her. The thought was repulsive.

Julian’s hand hung awkwardly in the air before he let it fall.

He took a deep breath, his voice softening into a gentle coo. "I know you're grieving. About the baby... my heart is broken too. But we have to look to the future. The doctor said it was a problem with your body. Once you've recovered, we can definitely have another child."

Another child? The thought was a bitter sneer in my mind. There would be no more children. Not with him. But I was too tired to fight. I just gave a numb nod.

Seeing me nod, he visibly relaxed. "Good. Get some rest. I have some company business to handle in the study."

I nodded again, went to my closet, and started packing. Half an hour later, two suitcases stood ready.

After I finished, I remembered the nursery.

It was the nursery, filled with everything I had lovingly prepared for our unborn son, Leo. For five months, I'd collected treasures for him, including an antique silver rattle I'd won at a Sotheby's auction.

Even though the baby was gone, I wanted to take the rattle with me.

But when I pushed open the door, my blood ran cold.

The nursery was a war zone.

The crib Julian had assembled with his own hands was overturned. Custom-made plush toys were ripped to shreds, their expensive cashmere stuffing littering the floor like freshly fallen snow.

The whimsical mural I had commissioned was defaced with streaks of red paint that dripped down the wall like rivulets of blood.

And the tiny clothes I treasured most, along with the antique silver rattle, lay in a pile of refuse at Penelope's feet.

She stood in the center of the wreckage, a utility knife glinting in her hand.

She was methodically slicing the last pacifier to ribbons.

Hearing the door creak, she turned.

The innocent mask was gone.

She toyed with the blade, a sadistic smile playing on her lips, her eyes glinting with malice.

"Oops. You found me."

Her voice was no longer a sickening, childish lisp but a sharp blade of mockery.

"What a shame, all these adorable little things." She ground the silver rattle under her high heel. "But no matter. The little bastard won't be using them anyway. It’s bad luck to keep them around. I was just cleaning up for you. You should thank me."

I stared at her, my nails digging into my palms. "You're faking it."

"And you're only just now figuring that out?" Penelope let out a peal of laughter. "Only a sentimental fool like Julian would actually believe I'm mentally incompetent. And thanks to you being just as stupid, I’ve been able to keep this act up for so long."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How did you enjoy that little plant toxin?"

"It's a pity you didn't die from it. But oh, I am so glad that little bastard in your belly did."

Slap!

I swung with all the strength I had, the sound cracking through the air like a whip.

Penelope's head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood blooming at the corner of her mouth.

She didn't retaliate. Instead, a triumphant, wicked smile spread across her face.

The next second, she let out a piercing shriek and threw herself backward, tumbling dramatically down the grand staircase into the living room below.

"Ah—! Clara, don't kill me! I'm sorry!"

"Penelope!" Julian's horrified roar echoed from downstairs.

He sprinted over and scooped up Penelope, who lay crumpled and whimpering at the bottom of the stairs.

Covered in performative scrapes, Penelope trembled in his arms, pointing a shaky finger at me.

"Julian... Clara tried to kill me... She said I killed the baby..."

"I just accidentally broke something in the nursery... and she pushed me..."

Julian's head snapped up, his gaze locking on me.

His eyes blazed with disbelief and incandescent fury.

"Clara! Have you lost your mind?"

He roared, "Her mind is damaged! So what if she broke something? You don't push a person down a flight of stairs! You could have killed her!"

I stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the pathetic scene he was orchestrating.

"I didn't push her. She threw herself. And she's not brain-damaged—she's been faking it all along. She's the one who trashed the nursery and poisoned me. She just admitted everything!"

Seeing the cold hatred in my eyes, a flicker of doubt crossed Julian's face.

He looked down at the woman in his arms and asked, his voice serious, "Did you jump?"

"No! My head hurts so much..." Penelope immediately reverted to her childish persona, shaking her head frantically while looking at me in terror. "Julian, it wasn't me! I'm not a bad girl... Julian, don't send me away..."

At her display of pain and fear, Julian's flicker of doubt dissolved into pity.

"That's enough, Clara. How can you slander her like this?"

Julian met my mocking gaze, and his tone softened, but it was laced with condescension. "I know you're distraught over the baby, but that's no excuse. I've seen her medical reports, Clara. It's impossible for her to be faking. She's a child. Maybe she broke some toys by accident while playing. How could you hurt her over something so trivial?"

"Apologize to Penelope. Now. And I'll pretend this never happened."

Apologize?

Even killing her wouldn't be enough to satisfy the rage boiling inside me. And he wanted me to apologize.

In that instant, the last wisp of affection I held for Julian evaporated into thin air.

I descended the stairs, one deliberate step at a time.

Julian, thinking I was about to comply, let out a sigh of relief.

But I simply stopped in front of him and stated, my voice devoid of all emotion, "Julian, let's get a divorce."

Julian froze. A look of sheer disbelief and profound hurt washed over his face.

"Clara, what are you talking about?" His voice trembled. "I know losing the baby has been a terrible blow, but you can't say things like that."

When I remained silent, his tone softened into one of weary resignation. "It's my fault. You're exhausted and emotionally unstable. I shouldn't have asked you to apologize. I know how much pain you're in. You just need to rest."

He sighed. Though he still held Penelope, his gaze was fixed on me, brimming with concern. "Please, don't say things you don't mean just to hurt me, okay?"

He ordered a maid to escort me to my room.

He compensated Penelope lavishly, even calling the family doctor to tend to her superficial scrapes. He still believed I had pushed her. A wave of sorrow so profound it felt like drowning washed over me.

At ten o'clock that night, he came into the master bedroom.

He carried a bouquet of white roses—my favorite.

He sat on the edge of the bed, gently resting his head on my shoulder as I lay with my back to him.

"Darling, please don't be angry anymore." His voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"I know you're hurting. I'm devastated about the baby too. That wasn't just your child; he was mine."

He wrapped his arms around my rigid body, his touch gentle but possessive.

"About Penelope… I know she was wrong. She never should have touched Leo's room. We can deal with that when you've calmed down. But hearing you talk about divorce today… it terrified me. It broke my heart."

"The doctor said that once you recover, we can have more children. Please, don't push me away. Please, don't torture us both with words you can't possibly mean, alright?"

Watching him hold me, his eyes red and his face a mask of profound love, was the cruelest irony.

He was always like this. This was why I had truly believed he loved me, and that Penelope was nothing more than a duty he bore.

But I wouldn't be fooled again.

Tomorrow, after I said a final goodbye to my son at the family cemetery, my brother was coming for me.

The next morning, we drove to the private cemetery on the suburban estate.

It was the Hayes family cemetery. We were there to place a small headstone for our unborn child.

Halfway through the somber ceremony, Julian received an urgent call from Owen. A group of short-sellers was launching a hostile attack on Storm Capital's stock. The situation was critical.

Conflict flickered across Julian's face, but his hesitation was brief.

"Clara, there's an emergency at the company. I have to go."

He gestured to Penelope, who stood a short distance away.

"Penelope will stay with you. I know her mind is… simple, but she's family. I'll feel better knowing someone is here with you. Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can."

Julian gave me a quick, distracted kiss on the forehead, then turned and hurried toward the helicopter waiting nearby.

A minute after he was gone, the vacant smile vanished from Penelope's face. She strode up to the small headstone and kicked over the bouquet of white roses Julian had just placed there. "Such rare flowers. As if your pathetic little bastard was worth it."