Three weeks after the accident that nearly took her life, Charlotte was finally discharged from the hospital.

Fernandez had managed to cover her medical bills by borrowing money, despite his already strained condition.

Just as they were about to leave, the doctor walked in, holding a sheet of paper.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. Please, pick up these medications on your way out,” he said, handing it to her father.

Fernandez took it, then glanced at Charlotte.

Her hospital gown hung loosely on her frail frame, her face pale, her eyes distant—lost in thoughts she couldn’t seem to escape.

Michael never came.

Not once.

Not to see her. Not to ask about her condition. Not even to care about the bills.

“Ms. Charlotte,” the doctor called gently.

She looked up slowly.

“I believe your father has informed you that you’ll need to come in once a week for checkups.”

He had told her—but not why.

She felt fine… or at least, fine enough. So why the constant visits?

A flicker of suspicion crossed her mind, but she said nothing. If there was something being hidden from her, perhaps it was for the best.

She wasn’t sure she could survive another blow.

“It’s fine… I’ll come,” she said softly, sniffing as she held back the tears threatening to spill.

“Very well. You’re free to go.”

With that, the doctor turned and left.

Fernandez stepped forward to help her, but she shook her head lightly.

“I’m okay. I can walk.”

He didn’t argue.

Outside the hospital, they stood by the roadside, waiting for a cab.

“You’re coming home with me,” Fernandez said firmly. “You still need rest.”

Charlotte shook her head.

“I can’t. I need to see Michael… I need answers. And I have to get my things.”

“Charlotte,” he sighed, “don’t be stubborn. He didn’t come for three weeks. Do you really think he’ll care now?”

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she raised her hand and hailed a cab.

“Please… just pay the fare before I go.”

Fernandez hesitated, but in the end, he gave in. He told the driver her address and paid.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she got in. “I’ll see you at home.”

The ride was silent.

Charlotte stared out the window, her vision blurred with tears.

Memories flooded her mind—moments she once cherished, now twisted into something painful.

Five years of marriage.

Five years… and nothing to show for it.

Not even a child.

Her grip tightened in her lap.

Still… she had tried.

She had always tried.

The car slowed to a stop.

Charlotte looked up.

The mansion stood before her—unchanged, yet it felt foreign.

Cold.

Unwelcoming.

She stepped out slowly, her legs weak beneath her. For a moment, she hesitated.

Maybe… she shouldn’t have come.

But it was too late. The security let her in without question.

Inside, the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

She moved toward the stairs, thinking Michael might be upstairs, but then she heard voices coming from the kitchen area.

Her steps slowed as she followed the sound, brown arch, heart beginning to pound.

She pushed the door open.

And froze.

Norah.

Michael’s cousin.

Standing there like she belonged.

For a moment, Charlotte couldn’t move.

Then Norah turned.

Her eyes swept over Charlotte, filled with nothing but disgust.

“What are you doing here?” she sneered. “Who let this stinky, barren woman in?”

Charlotte’s chest tightened.

“You—” her voice shook. “I knew something was wrong about you. How dare you steal what is mine?”

Norah laughed.

“Steal? You have nothing worth stealing.” She folded her arms. “If I were you, I’d leave before I call security.”

“What’s going on?” Michael’s voice came from behind.

Charlotte’s heart leapt.

He was here.

Finally.

But before she could speak, Norah suddenly cried out and dropped to the floor.

“Ouch! My stomach—Michael, help me! She’s trying to hurt my baby!”

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Baby?

Michael rushed in, shoving Charlotte aside as he went straight to Norah.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked urgently.

“She tried to harm our baby,” Norah whimpered, clutching her stomach.

Our baby.

The words echoed in Charlotte’s head.

She stood there, stunned—unable to speak, unable to move.

“What are you doing here?” Michael snapped, turning to her. “And how dare you touch my child?”

Before she could respond—

Slap!

Her head snapped to the side.

Her cheek burned.

But she didn’t cry out.

She was used to it.

“Get out,” he said coldly. “Before I do something I’ll regret. There’s nothing between us anymore. I’ll send you the divorce papers.”

Charlotte’s chest tightened as she struggled to breathe.

“You left me in the hospital…” she whispered. “And now you’re throwing me out?”

Tears blurred her vision.

“What did I do wrong? Is it because I couldn’t give you a child?”

“Yes,” another voice cut in.

Charlotte turned.

His mother.

“Isn’t that enough?” she continued. “You’ve ruined him already. Must you destroy him completely?”

“I was in the hospital for weeks,” Charlotte said, her voice breaking. “None of you came,”

“You should have died,” his sister added coldly.

Charlotte froze.

“Even you…?” she whispered.

“Save it,” his mother snapped. “We would have buried you properly if you had.”

“Now leave,” the sister pointed to the door.

Charlotte didn’t move.

Her eyes went back to Michael, hoping, waiting to take her back.

Begging… without words.

“Michael… please,” she dropped to her knees. “I still want you. I can change, I’ll give you a child, I promise—”

But he didn’t even look at her.

Instead, he pulled Norah into his arms.

That was her answer.

“She’s not going anywhere,” his mother said, grabbing Charlotte’s arm.

They dragged her out.

And threw her outside.

The door slammed shut.

Charlotte collapsed where she stood, her tears falling freely.

Everything was gone.

Everything.

And yet…

A part of her still clung to him.

Still hoped.

Still refused to let go.

And that frightened her more than anything else.

Instead of going home with her father, Charlotte went to a park filled with couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company. The sound of their laughter echoed faintly in her ears, almost like a distant memory she could no longer reach. She sat quietly on a bench, her gaze unfocused, her thoughts heavy and tangled.

Three weeks in the hospital.

Three long weeks.

And not once had Michael come to see her.

Not even a call.

Not even a message.

She should have expected this. Deep down, she had known something like this would happen, yet it still hurt more than she could bear. It wasn’t just the absence—it was the confirmation of everything she had been trying so hard to ignore.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the borrowed phone resting in her palm. The couple who had lent it to her stood a few steps away, watching her with quiet concern. They had noticed the way her hands trembled and how her breathing seemed uneven, like she was holding herself together by a fragile thread.

Charlotte lowered her head and dialed his number.

Each digit felt heavier than the last.

As the call began to ring, she stepped aside, needing a bit of distance, as though that alone would give her strength. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, and her lips moved silently in prayer.

Please… just this once.

Pick up.

“Hello? Who is this?” Michael’s voice came through, calm and slightly drowsy.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“It’s me… please don’t hang up,” she said quickly, her voice shaky but desperate. “Let’s talk this through. You can’t do this to me, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Then she heard it.

The woman's voice.

Soft, familiar in the worst possible way.

Charlotte’s heart sank instantly.

“Are you serious right now?” Michael said, his tone turning cold without warning. “What part of ‘it’s over’ don’t you understand? I already sent the divorce papers. They’ve been signed.”

Charlotte froze completely.

Signed?

Her mind struggled to process the word. She had never signed anything. No papers had been given to her. No conversation had taken place.

So how…?

“No… please,” her voice trembled, barely holding together. “I know this isn’t what you want. Don’t let your mother—”

“Don’t call this number again,” he cut in sharply. “If you do, you’ll regret it.”

The line went dead.

For a moment, Charlotte didn’t move.

She just stood there, staring at the phone as if it might somehow come back to life, as if he might call back and say it was all a mistake.

But nothing happened.

Slowly, her hand dropped to her side.

She walked back to the couple and returned the phone, forcing herself to speak. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, avoiding their eyes.

They didn’t say anything, but the pity in their expressions was enough to make her chest tighten again.

Charlotte turned away and returned to her seat.

This time, she didn’t try to stop the tears.

They came freely, silently, tracing warm paths down her cheeks. She didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound—she just sat there, letting everything inside her slowly fall apart.

The laughter around her felt distant now.

Mocking.

Like the world was moving on without her.

She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself, but it was useless. The weight in her chest only grew heavier, suffocating her little by little.

Unable to bear the stares she was beginning to attract, Charlotte stood up and made her way toward the restroom.

Once inside, she stepped into a stall and locked the door behind her.

And then she broke.

The sobs came all at once—raw, uncontrollable, echoing against the walls of the small space. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help.

Everything she had held back for weeks came pouring out.

The pain.

The humiliation.

The betrayal.

No one came to check on her.

No one knocked.

And for the first time… she didn’t expect anyone to.

She was used to this.

Being alone.

Being ignored.

Being left behind.

Minutes passed—she didn’t know how many. Time had lost meaning.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, replaced by quiet, uneven breaths.

About thirty minutes later, Charlotte stepped out of the stall.

Her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale, but her expression had changed. The pain was still there, but it had settled into something quieter… something emptier.

She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, barely recognizing the woman looking back at her.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told herself silently.

‘I have to be.’

There was no one else she could rely on.

No one else who would pick her up.

After a few more seconds, she forced a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes—and turned away.

When she returned to the park, she chose a different spot to sit, farther from where she had been before. This time, she kept her distance, as though trying to separate herself from everything around her.

She watched the couples quietly.

They laughed, teased each other, leaned into one another like the world belonged only to them.

Charlotte looked away after a while, a faint, sad smile forming on her lips.

She had never had that.

Not even once.

Not even in the beginning.

“Hello, dear.”

Charlotte blinked, startled, and looked up.

An elderly woman stood before her, her posture straight, her expression calm, and her eyes unusually sharp despite the gentle smile on her lips.

“Are you here alone?” the woman asked.

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded slightly.

The woman studied her carefully, as though she could see through every layer Charlotte had tried to build around herself.

“You just got your heart broken, didn’t you?” she said calmly.

Charlotte stiffened.

“How—”

“I heard your call,” the woman replied simply. “And I can see it in your eyes.”

Charlotte looked away, uncomfortable. “I’m not interested in sympathy,” she said quietly.

The woman chuckled softly.

“I’m not offering sympathy.”

Charlotte frowned slightly, confused.

“I’m offering you a way out.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

The woman took a small step closer, her gaze steady.

“Marry my son.”

Charlotte stared at her, certain she had misheard.

“What?”

“You don’t have to love him,” the woman continued calmly. “Just agree, and your life will change.”

Charlotte let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I just got divorced. Why would I jump into another marriage?”

The woman didn’t seem bothered by her reaction. Instead, she looked at her more closely, as though measuring something.

“Because staying like this will destroy you,” she said quietly.

Charlotte froze.

The words hit deeper than she expected.

Still, she shook her head.

“I’m not interested.”

She stood up, gripping her bag tightly, ready to leave.

This conversation was absurd.

Her life had just fallen apart, and now this woman was offering her another marriage like it was some kind of solution.

She turned to walk away.

“Name your price,” the woman said calmly behind her.

Charlotte stopped.

Her steps faltered.

“And I’ll pay it.”

Charlotte paused, her brows furrowed as she turned to meet the woman’s gaze. She had been featured in the news, yes—but no one really knew who her husband was. Michael had never taken her out, never introduced her properly, not even when she begged him to let her attend his dinner parties with him.

“You can come with me to the federal registry,” the woman continued calmly, as though she were discussing something ordinary. “Name your price, get your money, and marry him. He’s doing well for himself—owns a house and a successful business. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

Charlotte remained silent for a moment, her mind racing.

It sounded… tempting.

Too tempting.

All she needed was money—just enough to start over with her father. Once she had that, she could leave. Divorce wouldn’t be a problem. After all, this would only be an arrangement, nothing more.

She stood there for several minutes, thinking deeply. Reality pressed heavily against her chest. There was no stable future waiting for her, not like this. Her father struggled enough already, working a low-paying job just to survive. Adding her burden to his would only make things worse.

For a brief second, she considered calling him.

But she stopped herself.

She already knew what he would say.

He would refuse.

He would tell her to endure, to manage, to stay strong the way he always had. But this wasn’t just about endurance anymore—it was about survival.

Charlotte took a slow breath.

“Fine,” she said at last, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I’ll do it. But if the marriage doesn’t work out, we get a divorce. And before anything, we draft an agreement. Everything must be written.”

That was her condition.

She would take the money, secure her future, and walk away if things went wrong, which she was almost certain they would.

The kind of man described by this woman? Wealthy, successful, distant?

He would definitely be arrogant.

And men like that didn’t make good husbands.

The woman beside her simply nodded, a faint smile forming on her lips. Without saying another word, she pulled out her phone and made a call.

“He will be here soon,” she said.

Charlotte’s heart began to beat faster.

She didn’t know why.

Perhaps it was the weight of what she had just agreed to.

Perhaps it was fear.

Or maybe… something else.

Nearly an hour later, a car pulled up in front of them.

Charlotte’s eyes followed it instinctively, her body going still as the door opened.

And then he stepped out.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Tall.

Well-built.

Effortlessly composed.

There was something about him, something commanding, something cold—that made her chest tighten slightly.

He didn’t look like someone who needed this arrangement.

If anything, he looked like a man who had options.

So why was he single?

“Grandma, you wanted to see me?” His voice was deep, smooth, and carried a natural authority as he approached.

“Yes,” the woman replied, clearly pleased. “I found someone for you. She’ll make a good wife. You both should register your marriage.”

He turned his gaze toward Charlotte.

There was no warmth in his eyes.

Only indifference… and something close to irritation.

Strangely, that made Charlotte more certain of her decision.

Good.

If he didn’t like her, then this marriage wouldn’t last.

And that worked perfectly in her favor.

He glanced back at his grandmother, his expression unreadable.

So this is how she plans to fix things… he thought briefly.

Then, without much hesitation, he said, “Alright. Let’s proceed.”

Charlotte blinked in surprise.

That was it?

Just like that?

No questions. No arguments.

He agreed.

The woman beamed, clearly satisfied.

“Good. Let’s not waste time,” she said, already moving.

Fifteen minutes later, they were inside the registry building.

Charlotte barely had time to process anything before his hand closed around hers.

Firm.

Unyielding.

She instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt—but enough to make it clear that he wasn’t letting go.

Her heart skipped.

They walked together until they stood before the official.

Only then did he release her hand.

Without a word, he reached for a sanitizer and cleaned his hands calmly, as though nothing had happened.

Charlotte watched him quietly.

Arrogant.

Exactly as she expected.

But for some reason… she didn’t feel offended.

If anything, she found it oddly amusing.

The documents were handed to them.

Two sheets. One pen.

Charlotte read through them carefully, making sure nothing was hidden or altered. Once satisfied, she signed.

He signed immediately after, without hesitation.

And just like that—

It was done.

She was married.

Again.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, handing it to her without looking at her.

“House thirty-four, Hilton Garden Park Road,” he said. “You can move in today or tomorrow. Don’t wait for me, I’ll be out of the country.”

Charlotte nodded slightly. “Thank you.”

That was all.

No introduction.

No conversation.

No emotion.

He turned and walked out.

Outside, his grandmother was already waiting in the car.

She stepped out the moment she saw him.

“Where’s my daughter-in-law?” she asked eagerly.

“She’s inside,” he replied casually. “She’ll move in. I’ve given her the keys.”

The woman’s face lit up instantly, satisfaction written all over her.

She turned to go inside, but he stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m bringing her with us,” she insisted.

“She needs to pack her things first,” he said calmly. “Don’t worry about her.”

She hesitated, clearly wanting to argue,bbut eventually, she gave in.

Charlotte had just made a huge decision. It was only natural she needed time.

With a small sigh, the woman returned to the car.

Moments later, they drove off.