Alyssa's POV

It was our wedding anniversary, and the manager of the farmers' market had treated all the stall owners to a movie.

It was a small gesture, thoughtful even—a brief distraction from the usual grind, a break in our routine. For a moment, I thought it might be a nice night, something different.

No drama. Just a moment of peace.

But as I stood to leave, the lights dimmed in the small backroom theater, and the screen flickered to life with footage of my autistic husband, Luke Chandler.

"Regina," he said, his lip curling into that smug grin, "if I wasn't helping you train that stubborn-ass Doberman, why the hell would I fake autism and waste three years on Alyssa?"

I froze.

He smirked. "All those rules Alyssa memorized to stop my autism from acting up? They are just commands I made up for dog training. She crawls over to me like a dog, whispering, 'Are you feeling better today?' It's nauseating. If I weren't gathering data from her responses, I would've kicked her out of bed a long time ago."

The room was dead silent until Regina's voice cut through like broken glass.

"Oh, Luke," she purred, smiling like she'd just won a prize pig at the fair. "After your father passed, I've been so lucky to have you take care of me. Besides, Tank has already mastered food refusal. Honestly? It's time to dump Alyssa."

Luke's laugh died on the spot.

"What? No, I'm not divorcing her," he said, suddenly flat and cold.

A beat passed.

Then, with a soft sigh, Luke reached out and brushed a tear from Regina's cheek. "If Alyssa and I split, who's gonna cook and clean for free? Who else would come running like a dog whenever we call?"

The chair beneath me screeched as I shot to my feet, my heart hammering like it was trying to crack my ribs from the inside.

Behind me, the theater erupted in laughter.

"No wonder that woman flinches every time her husband snaps his fingers!" someone snorted.

Another voice chimed in, "She walks around like she's better than everyone. Damn, it turns out she's just a bitch after all."

Five years of marriage, and it was all a lie. It wasn’t just betrayal. It was a cruel, calculated experiment in Luke’s twisted world.

I was never his wife. I was just a test subject—a dog in his obedience trial.

The air in the alley was harsh and too bright, and as it hit my face, I stumbled outside, trying to make sense of everything. My vision blurred, and my hands shook as I fumbled for my phone.

I dialed a number I hadn't thought about in years.

The voice on the other end answered with surprise. "Alyssa! You've called?"

"Professor," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm ready to join the sensory regulation group."

...

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

Then, my professor asked, "Don't you need to take care of your autistic husband anymore?"

Another beat. A sigh.

He finally spoke with a sense of finality. "Forget it. I'm not getting dragged into your mess. Just glad you finally figured things out."

The next morning, I returned to my stall as if nothing had happened, restocking produce and pretending that my life hadn't just shattered. My hands moved on autopilot, sorting bundles of greens freshly harvested from my parents' garden, gathered before sunrise.

That's when Regina strolled up like she owned the place, tugging Tank along behind her. The damn dog lifted his leg and pissed all over the vegetables.

Right on cue, Regina wrinkled her nose dramatically. "These greens look sick. What, did you dig them up from a cemetery? I'm worried Tank's gonna catch something."

My heart leaped into my throat as I rushed forward and grabbed the leash.

"These were picked fresh at four this morning by my parents!" I snapped. "Regina, how could you..."

"Hey, stop that!" Luke's voice cut through the noise.

He stepped between us like a hired enforcer.

With empty eyes and a mouth in a grim line, he commanded, "You got Tank's shoes dirty. Apologize."

I blinked, stunned.

My battered, muddy, and scuffed sneakers were barely held together with hand stitching. Right next to them, Tank's paws were tucked into spotless leather boots, custom-made and probably imported.

"What—"

The kick came out of nowhere.

Luke struck me directly on my right knee—the same knee that had been shattered three years ago by a debt collector. Pain shot through me like lightning, and I collapsed onto the gravel.

My jeans ripped upon impact, and my blood mixed with the dog's urine and dirt.

And then Luke was on me, yanking my hair, forcing my face into the filth. This man, who just last night kissed me by the stove and whispered he'd always protect me, was now shoving me into the dirt like I was nothing.

"Tank isn't like you," he spat. "You can be dirty. He's purebred. He matters."

Regina barely glanced at me. Her eyes were locked on the vegetables like they were crawling with disease.

"Why are you still talking to her?" she snapped. "It's about money, right? Just throw her some cash and call it charity. This whole place is filthy. Let's go."

The other vendors jumped at the chance to please her.

"Miss Regina, you've got a heart of gold!"

"Make her eat the damn vegetables! Don't let Miss Regina see anything offensive!"

Then, three of the larger guys moved quickly.

I kicked, screamed, and fought back, but they pinned me down in the muck like a wild animal. My face hit the gravel, and someone started shoving slimy, warm vegetables into my mouth—soaked in piss and rot.

I gagged. The taste was rancid, like garbage juice and bile.

"Let me go!" I choked out. "This is assault! It's illegal!"

Behind them, Luke's voice came cool and casual. "Her weak spot's her right knee. Old injury."

I froze.

The steel rods in the vendors' hands whistled through the air, and the sound of bones cracking was unmistakably clear. But this physical pain couldn't compare to even a fraction of the agony in my heart.

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving behind a scene of chaos.

The setting sun stretched my shadow long, like a dead dog stripped of its skin.

I knelt in the filthy, stagnant water, picking up the organic vegetables my parents had harvested before dawn. The vegetables, soaked in dog urine, rotted in my palms, much like my five-year sham marriage, trampled and shattered into pieces.

At least the $10 million in debt had been paid off. I could finally leave.

Then, my phone buzzed.

"Alyssa," came a calm, familiar voice. "Heard you're ready to come back. When's your flight?"

"Two days from now," I said. "Thank you, Nicholas."

I hung up and booked the cheapest flight to London I could find.

Forty-eight hours, and I'd be gone.

...

That night, I dragged myself home, covered in bruises, blood, and mud. I smelled like garbage water.

Luke didn't look up from the floor.

"You stink," he muttered. "I'm gonna be sick."

This man, who claimed even dust triggered his sensory issues, was now kneeling sweetly to clean Tank's paws with a damp cloth. In the past, I would've run straight to the shower, scrubbing my skin raw with steel wool, whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over until my voice gave out.

But this time? I walked right past him.

He changed his tone to soft and coaxing. It was the same voice he used on the damn dog.

"Alyssa, I was a little harsh today. But do you know how much Tank's custom shoes cost? We're still in debt…"

"That debt?" I interrupted, turning just slightly. "I've already paid for it."

Every cent.

I'd bled for it by selling produce late into the night, delivering orders in the rain, and chugging Red Bulls until my stomach lining eroded.

Moreover, my parents gave up everything. They even sold their house and RV and moved back to the countryside, farming from sunup to sundown, just to help me.

They worked over a thousand days and nights, never daring to rest.

And Luke? He faked a diagnosis and sat on the couch.

Right then, I went to our bedroom and packed my suitcase in silence.

Then came Luke's voice again—sharp, full of scorn.

"Where the hell are you going?"

Alyssa's POV

When I didn't respond, Luke continued on his own, "Alright, don't be mad. I've got good news. Actually, I'm a billionaire."

I blinked, wondering if I'd misheard him.

"A billionaire?" I echoed.

He nodded, completely unfazed, like he'd just told me we were out of milk. "Yep. All these years, I've been faking autism, racking up debt, just to see if you were worthy of being my wife."

I stood there, frozen. My mind went blank.

He pulled out his phone and flashed me his bank app. Line after line of zeros filled the screen—too many to count.

My grip tightened around the suitcase handle.

"Worthy?" The word felt heavy, like something sour on my tongue.

Luke adjusted his cuff, wearing that smug little smile I had come to loathe.

"You should be grateful," he said, like I owed him something. "My family's wealth goes back generations. All you had to do was make it through three years of testing. And now, look. You passed. It's all yours."

I just stared at him, too stunned to speak. My brain was still trying to catch up.

He frowned at my silence. "What, still mad? Fine. Name your price. How much are three years of your life worth?"

Then he reached toward me.

I stepped back, bumping into the bookshelf. Papers toppled to the floor—old documents fluttering everywhere: ultrasound printouts, medical reports.

Miscarriage notices.

For a second, everything slowed.

Then, the sudden ring of my phone broke the silence.

Luke glanced at the screen, a soft smile unconsciously appearing on his lips. For a moment, I thought I saw the man who once loved me deeply.

But now, all his love had gone to the woman who should have been called his 'stepmother.'

"What's the point of keeping these scraps of paper? They're not worth much," Luke said, glancing at the documents.

He then turned his gaze back to me, his tone shifting. "Regina is pregnant, Alyssa. Even though you had a miscarriage, at least you’ve had some experience. Come with me to the hospital to take care of her."

Luke carelessly stepped on the yellowed ultrasound sheet, the one that displayed a normal fetal heartbeat.

I couldn't help but sneer.

Six years ago, Luke's father passed away, and now his stepmother, Regina, is pregnant.

God, he must have forgotten.

I've always been the kind of person who either wants nothing or wants everything.

Back then, I was willing to give him everything. I used to wake up at 3 a.m., kneading dough in a cold kitchen just to make him hand-pulled noodles because he craved them.

But now? Now, I could slap the divorce papers in his smug face without hesitation.

I didn't want to dwell on Luke or his strange relationship with his so-called stepmother, Regina.

I just wanted to leave.

"I want a divorce—" I started.

But the words barely left my mouth before the room spun. The last thing I saw before everything went black was Luke's panicked expression.

"Alyssa!" I heard him shout.

...

When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed.

Luke sat beside me, stirring a bowl of cold porridge as if he were waiting for the curtain call in a play he didn't even want to be in.

"The doctor said you fainted from stress and fatigue," he said flatly. "Don't joke about divorce again. Next time, I won't forgive you so easily."

As if this were all just one more episode in some sitcom, he thought he was starring in.

He kept going. "Your knee needs surgery. I already called your parents. They will come here to take care of you. Just rest, alright?"

I didn't have time to respond.

A nurse's voice rang out from the hallway. "Sir Luke, Miss Regina's not feeling well!"

Luke shot to his feet and walked out without a second glance.

...

A few hours later, I was rushed into the operating room, the bright, sterile lights above me blurring as I was hastily wheeled onto the table. Midway through the surgery, the lead surgeon was abruptly called away, leaving a newly arrived intern to take over.

His hands trembled as he adjusted the instruments.

"Sorry," the intern muttered, his voice shaky. "An important patient needs a full consultation with all the hospital specialists."

Before I could fully process his words, the sudden, shrill sound of the operating room alarm pierced the air, reverberating off the cold, clinical walls.

And then, everything went black.

...

When I finally regained consciousness, I slowly drifted out of the anesthesia, the world around me fuzzy and cold.

Through the haze, I saw the intern hovering over me, his hands trembling as he desperately tried—and failed—to stop the bleeding.

Blood was everywhere. His face was pale, panic-stricken, like a child caught in a lie.

Out of the blue, my mother burst into the room.

She didn't waste a second as she pushed my gurney into the VIP ward, where a dozen doctors stood frozen.

Right there, my mother dropped to her knees in the middle of the sterile room and began slamming her forehead against the floor.

Over and over.

"Please! Please save my daughter!" my mom cried, her voice hoarse and cracking. "She's still so young… please…"

Her hands trembled as she pressed them together in a desperate plea.

In the doorway, Regina clung to Luke's sleeve as if she might collapse at any moment.

"Luke," she said softly, "let the doctors go back."

She paused, then added with a bitter smile, "After all, I'm just carrying a child no one else can see. How could that possibly compare to Alyssa..."

Luke stopped in his tracks, then gently wrapped an arm around Regina, turning to me with a chilling calm in his eyes.

"Stop pretending, Alyssa," he said coldly. "I spoke to the doctors. Your leg's not that serious."

Sweating bullets, the intern suddenly bolted.

"I need a chainsaw!" he shouted down the hallway. "The patient's right leg is necrotic—immediate amputation!"

The room went dead still.

A second later, my father stormed in, grabbed the intern by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

"My daughter only has a fractured bone!" he shouted, his fists trembling. "How could you suddenly want to amputate her leg? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Regina lunged between them, shielding the intern like he was made of porcelain.

"Don't hurt him!" she shrieked. "My brother might be an intern, but he's still a real medical student! He studied for eight years! How can you treat him like this? If Alyssa's body's falling apart, how's that his fault!"

Then, her sweet and gentle mask slipped off as she bluntly asked, "You're not trying to extort money, are you?"

Alyssa's POV

My mom didn't even blink. She stepped forward and slapped Regina across the face, open palm, full force.

"You nasty woman, how dare you falsely accuse us!" my mom shouted.

In an instant, Luke lunged at my mother and kicked her hard. She flew backward ten feet away like a rag doll and slammed into the wall with a sickening thud.

Clutching her cheeks, Regina burst into tears. "Luke, I told you not to marry a good-for-nothing scum like her! Now that they found out you're a billionaire, they're trying to bleed us dry! Look at what the woman did. She hit me!"

Just like that, Luke's rage vanished. The switch flipped.

He turned to her, soft as ever, like she was made of porcelain. "Regina, don't make a scene. Alyssa passed the test. She's my wife now."

Regina's tears stopped instantly like a faucet being shut off. But when Luke turned his back, she shot me a look that could have pierced through steel.

Still, Regina sent a doctor in to treat my leg.

It was a small mercy, but it felt like tossing a bandage on a gunshot wound.

...

Later that night, I lay in bed, my leg throbbing, eyes too tired to cry. My parents were asleep in the corner, snoring softly. Their presence was the only thing holding me together.

Then, someone yanked the curtain around my bed.

Regina.

She leaned in so close I could almost smell the peppermint on her breath. "Don't even think about becoming Luke's wife, you worthless woman."

I didn't flinch.

She moved even closer, her lips almost touching my ear. "You've been warned. Don't say I didn't tell you if you stay after knowing the truth."

Somehow, I curled up in the shadows, silent. 'The truth?'

Then came the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

I recognized them instantly.

"Regina?" Luke's voice drifted closer. "You in here?"

Regina gave me one last smirk, pulled open the curtain, and slipped out, her tone switching on cue.

"Luke," she cooed, "it's just us now. You can be honest with me."

She dropped her voice an octave. "You love me, don't you? You promised me that night on Valentine's Day."

I sucked in a breath. 'That night...'

I remembered it all too well.

That night, I had clutched the coins I'd saved for two weeks and rushed through a thunderstorm to deliver one last food order.

As the blinding headlights closed in on me, I was still thinking I might be late to give Luke the rose gift box I'd picked out.

The doctors said I lost over 2,000 cc of blood. They issued the death notice three times.

To save my battered, unconscious body, my parents, both frail, donated 800 cc each. Both of them, already frail, nearly didn't survive.

And Luke? He was in a hotel suite with Regina.

I heard his voice, cutting through the cold night with a sharp truth. "That night, I hired someone to hit her. Told you I'd spend Valentine's Day with you."

My body went completely numb.

"As for everything after that…" Luke paused as if he were deciding whether I even deserved the truth. "I asked the hospital to keep her admitted a few extra days. That way, I could stay with you longer."

He laughed a little. "And if I said anything emotional that night? Don't take it seriously."

Regina's face crumpled like she'd been slapped. "But Luke, I'm pregnant with your child. You'd really let him grow up a bastard?"

'A child?' I asked myself.

God.

We once had a child, too.

I remembered the day I showed him the two pink lines. Luke picked me up and spun me around in the living room, laughing like we'd just hit the jackpot. He even went to every checkup, holding my hand and talking to my belly. The doctor joked that he was the most intense dad-to-be she'd ever seen.

Even though I knew all that tenderness was just a lie, the memory of him resting his ear on my stomach, listening for the baby's movements—his trembling eyelashes and star-filled eyes—still made my heart ache.

'What a pity…'

After a period of silence, Luke's voice returned. "Have the baby, Regina. Alyssa and I will raise him together. He'll be the heir to the family."

Regina gasped, then lashed out like she'd been betrayed. "You want my child to call me her Grandma? Seriously, Luke? What if Alyssa had a baby of her own, Luke? What then?"

He didn't hesitate. "She can't get pregnant."