I went straight home and began packing the things I planned to take with me, throwing everything else away.

The faded couple’s hoodie in the closet went into the trash. I’d bought it for Daniel Reed with my very first paycheck back when he was just starting his business. At the time, he had held me close and promised, “Once the company makes it big, I’ll fill your closet with designer clothes.”

I picked up the glass jar from my nightstand, filled with movie stubs and park tickets from the past three years. Taking a deep breath, I tipped it over, letting the paper flutter into the garbage can.

Lastly, I took the faded bunny keychain he’d given me when we first started dating—a cheap trinket from a street stall, three for ten yuan. Yet he’d said with complete seriousness, “From now on, you’ll keep all my keys.” I gave a self-deprecating smile and tossed it in.

“What are you doing?”

Daniel’s voice came from the doorway, laced with a perfume scent that wasn’t mine.

He saw how much emptier the apartment looked and immediately frowned. “Why are you throwing away perfectly good things?”

I didn’t look back, continuing to remove his suit jackets from the hangers. “These are useless now.”

“How are they useless?” He strode over and grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. “Are you sulking again? I told you I’ve been busy with the company—don’t—”

I yanked my hand free.

He froze, then let out a derisive laugh. “What’s got into you now? Just because of that delivery suite today? Didn’t I explain? Sophie might be connected to the Whitmore family!”

He pulled up a photo on his phone—a shot of Sophie Lane with a middle-aged man. “See? This is Henry Collins, an executive at Whitmore Group Subsidiary. Sophie’s very close to him.”

Every “Sophie” rolled off his tongue with an intimacy he didn’t even seem to notice.

I looked at Sophie’s smiling face in the photo and almost laughed. Henry Collins had toasted my father at his birthday banquet five years ago.

Daniel rubbed his hands together, his tone eager. “As long as we keep Sophie happy and she puts in a good word for us with the Whitmores, the company could secure their investment. I might even take over the Whitmore Group one day. I know I can’t give you the title of Mrs. Reed then, but I promise I’ll make time for you.”

I looked up at him, my throat tight. “Daniel, do you have any idea who’s helped your company get to where it is today?”

He paused, then softened his voice, taking my hand. “Claire, just bear with it a little longer. Once I’m in with the Whitmores, I’ll buy you whatever you want—better than anything that corner-shop dad of yours could give you.”

My fingers went cold.

A corner-shop dad? That was the story I’d made up so he wouldn’t feel pressured. In reality, my father was at the Whitmore Group headquarters right now, reviewing Daniel’s project proposal—the one whose every data point I had stayed up late to verify.

“Are you hungry?” He went into the kitchen and returned with a delicate cake box. “I passed by the dessert shop—Sophie says their mango mille crêpe is the best. You should try it.”

The sight of the bright yellow mango slices instantly made my stomach churn with a familiar nausea. I was severely allergic to mango—once in college I’d nearly gone into anaphylactic shock after eating some. I had told him this more than ten times.

“I’m not eating that. It’s too rich,” I said, stepping back.

“Come on, you haven’t had much appetite lately.” He scooped up a bite and held it to my lips, his tone the coaxing sort you’d use with a child. “Sophie says sweets make people happy.”

The syrupy scent of mango hit my nose, and I jerked my head away. The cake smeared against my cheek, making him pause.

Before he could speak, his phone rang. Sophie’s saccharine voice floated out: “Daniel, thank you for the necklace you gave me. I love it.”

The image attached was of the necklace I’d admired in a store just last week—one he had dragged me away from, saying, “It’s impractical. We’ll buy a better one when we have money.”

Daniel hung up, coughing awkwardly. “It was for a client. Don’t overthink it.”

Seeing my mood sour, he added in a guilty tone, “The company’s having some cash flow issues. I mentioned it to Sophie, and she said she’d talk to her family about investing.”

I lifted my head sharply. Just yesterday, I had anonymously transferred five million into Daniel’s company account—my years of saved dowry—using an overseas account so he wouldn’t feel pressured.

I gave a cold, mocking smile, then pulled out the divorce agreement I’d prepared and slipped it among the hospital bills. “The hospital needs payment. Sign here.”

Eager to go see Sophie, Daniel didn’t even look before signing his name.

After Daniel Reed left, I took the signed divorce papers to the law firm to file for dissolution of the marriage.

The only things I hadn’t packed yet were my daughter’s belongings. As I sorted through them, memories of my little girl came flooding back. Holding her favorite stuffed bunny, I broke down in tears.

Suddenly, voices drifted in from outside—Daniel had returned, and with him was Sophie Lane.

“Daniel, don’t you think my complexion looks much better?” she cooed, one hand resting on her belly, her voice thick with syrup. “The doctor says it’s all thanks to your careful care. Otherwise, the baby and I would have suffered. Not like some people… can’t even keep a proper delivery suite because their body’s too weak.”

When I stepped out, Daniel said casually, “Sophie’s pregnant and picky about food. She’ll be staying here to rest for a while—you’ll be in charge of cooking all her meals.”

Before I could protest, Daniel turned away to answer a call.

Sophie’s gaze swept over my faded maternity dress, her lips curling into a sneer. “Claire, I’m only saying this for your own good—when a woman’s pregnant, she should treat herself better. And what’s that in your hand? Looks ancient. Don’t let it press against your baby.”

Instinctively, I tightened my grip on the toy. It was Emma’s favorite bunny, worn down to threadbare fur but cherished as her nightly companion. After she was gone, it became my only tangible memory of her, and I fully intended to take it with me when I left.

“That’s none of your business,” I bit out, not wanting to waste breath on her, and turned toward my daughter’s room.

“Hey, don’t walk away.” Sophie suddenly stepped forward and deliberately bumped my arm. The bunny slipped from my grasp, tumbling across the floor until it landed at her feet.

Before I could bend down to retrieve it, her ten-centimeter heel came down hard on one of its ears, the sharp crack of tearing fabric filling the air.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it,” she said with mock surprise, withdrawing her foot. Looking at the crushed toy, she smiled even more smugly. “This ragged thing should’ve been thrown out ages ago—keeping it is just bad luck. Right, Daniel?”

A rush of blood surged to my head, my vision turning red. I slapped her across the face. “Sophie Lane! What do you think you’re doing?!”

One of the bunny’s ears was now shredded, and a button eye—hand-sewn by Emma herself—rolled onto the floor. My hands trembled as I picked it up, my fingertips brushing over a dark stain on the fabric. The tears came hot and fast.

“Why did you push me?” Sophie suddenly cried out, clutching her stomach and stumbling back, her eyes reddening as she collapsed into Daniel’s arms. “Daniel, I didn’t mean anything by it… why is she so aggressive? What if she hurt the baby?”

Daniel’s face darkened as he turned on me. “Claire Whitmore! Have you lost your mind? Sophie’s in a delicate state—how could you push her? It’s just an old toy. I’ll buy you ten new ones!”

“An old toy?” My voice shook. “That was Emma’s! It’s the only thing my daughter left behind!”

“You have the nerve to bring up Emma?” he snapped. “Look at how you raised her—when we have guests, she doesn’t even come out to greet them.” He kept his arm protectively around Sophie.

From behind him, Sophie peeked out and pulled a mocking face at me, silently mouthing, Serves you right.

Then she buried herself against Daniel’s chest, sobbing. “Daniel, I understand that she’s upset. I can take being pushed, but my belly hurts so much—what if something’s wrong with the baby?”

Daniel shot me one last venomous glare before scooping Sophie up and carrying her out.

I clutched the ruined bunny to my chest, my knuckles white, the ache in my abdomen tangling with the seething hatred in my heart.

After they left, I endured the pain in my abdomen long enough to call the Whitmore Group Subsidiary’s project partner and cancel the upcoming cooperation with Daniel Reed’s company. Then I headed to the law firm to discuss filing a lawsuit against Sophie Lane and Daniel for intentional harm.

“Claire! Where are you? Get to the hospital—Sophie’s in trouble!”

I hung up immediately, but Daniel still found me. He had bodyguards force me into the car.

“What were you doing at the law firm?”

Before I could answer, he ordered the driver to speed toward the hospital.

On the way, he rambled incoherently—Sophie had suddenly collapsed at home, and the hospital diagnosed her with anemia. She urgently needed a blood transfusion, but her blood type was the rare Rh-negative, and the blood bank was running out.

“The doctor says her baby is affected too—she needs blood immediately!” Daniel’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I’ve called all my friends—none have the right type. Claire, you’re Rh-negative, aren’t you? Help Sophie… and help her baby!”

My stomach dropped, and I instinctively shielded my belly. “Daniel, I’m seven months pregnant. The doctor said my placenta is low—donating blood could be dangerous for me!”

“It’s just a little! You’ll be fine!” He slammed the brakes, the car screeching to a stop at the hospital entrance. “Sophie’s carrying my child—she’s my only way to get in with the Whitmores! Think about it—if you help her now, once I’ve earned Mr. Whitmore’s favor, in the future we—”

“We?” I looked into his eyes, wide with undisguised urgency, and felt only cold disbelief. “Daniel, what about the baby I’m carrying? Have you even thought about the risk to me?”

“You can have another child later!” His patience snapped. Grabbing my wrist, he dragged me toward the ER. “But if something happens to Sophie now, I’m finished! Claire Whitmore, I’m begging you—just this once!”

I fought to break free, my wrist aching from his grip. “No! Daniel, let me go! The doctor said I can’t give blood!”

But he acted like he didn’t hear me, forcing me into the transfusion room. The nurse glanced at my heavily pregnant belly with visible hesitation. “Mr. Reed, at this stage of pregnancy, blood donation carries a very high risk—”

“I’ll take the risk! I’ll be responsible if anything happens!” Daniel cut her off, glaring at me with a sharp, almost feral look. “If you refuse, you’re as good as killing me and Sophie’s baby!”

When the cold needle pierced my skin, I trembled all over. As the blood flowed through the tubing, the baby inside me suddenly kicked violently, followed by the sharpest cramp I had ever felt.

“It hurts… Daniel, my stomach—” Sweat poured down my face. I clutched his arm, pleading, “Stop, please! My baby—”

Daniel’s eyes stayed fixed on the blood bag’s rising volume. He shook off my hand impatiently. “Hold on—it’s almost done. Sophie’s life is on the line!”

It wasn’t until the nurse gasped, “The patient’s turning pale—she’s going into labor!” that panic flickered in his eyes. But by then, the blood bag was nearly full, my vision was fading, and a warm gush spread beneath me.

“Quick! Prep the delivery room—she’s going into premature labor!”

As they rushed me into surgery, the last thing I saw was Daniel standing in the hallway, caught between my emergency room and Sophie’s ward. After a few seconds of hesitation, he turned and ran to Sophie.

When I woke again, the sting of antiseptic filled my nose, making me cough. The bassinet beside me was empty. A nurse, her eyes red, told me gently, “Ma’am… I’m so sorry. The baby was too premature. He… he never breathed.”

It was as if someone had carved a piece out of my chest—so deep I couldn’t even feel the pain.

At some point, Daniel had returned, sitting at my bedside, his eyes rimmed red. He took my hand and choked out, “Claire, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for this to happen…”

He awkwardly pulled the blanket up over me, speaking in a tentative, coaxing tone. “Don’t worry—once I’ve taken care of Sophie and gotten the Whitmores’ approval, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you a better life…”

I stared at him, numb, watching him play the role of the devoted husband. It was nothing short of a cruel joke.

Make it up to me? With what?

Our child was gone. The last tie between us had been severed completely.

What he didn’t know was that the Whitmore recognition he so desperately craved, the favor he’d hoped to earn with that unborn child, had died along with my baby.

I quietly pulled my hand away, gazing out at the pale sky beyond the window, my palm resting over my now-flat stomach.

Daniel Reed, your good days are over.

My sweet baby… Mommy will avenge you.