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."

Alyssa's POV

"That year, when she was rushed in for the emergency C-section," Luke said, his voice disturbingly casual, "I told the doctor to remove her uterus. Figured it was convenient."

He continued, explaining to Regina, "I couldn't let someone like her, someone so low, carry my heir. She was always just a test subject to experiment with dog-training methods."

The words hit me like ice water. Sharp and merciless.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

My mind snapped back to that night. Uninvited, the memories came flooding in.

Debt collectors had broken down the door. I turned just in time to see one of them charging at me with an iron rod. I tried to shield my seven-month-pregnant belly, but the swing came anyway. The sound of my knee snapping still echoes in my nightmares.

I remembered collapsing to the floor, screaming. Crying.

"How much does Luke owe you?!" I begged through tears. "I'll pay it back—just please, don't hurt my baby!"

But there was no mercy.

The only answer was the dull thud of a fruit knife stabbing into my flesh.

I'll never forget that pain.

At first, when the blade sliced into my belly, it was icy cold. Then came the searing, bone-deep agony. Warm blood sprayed across my face as I watched them pull a shapeless mass of flesh from my body.

I couldn't pass out fast enough. I saw everything.

They ripped my baby from me like I was nothing more than an animal.

"Ah. It's a boy," one of them said, almost bored. He twirled the umbilical cord like a party ribbon, then tossed it in the trash.

A cracked rib had pierced my lung. Later, the ashen-faced surgeon showed me the X-rays and said it was a miracle I survived.

I was the one cut open and robbed of my child.

I was the one left with a permanent disability.

But somehow, Luke was the one who claimed to have trauma and developed autism after seeing me like that.

And I believed that pitiful lie.

I carried that guilt for three years, letting it rot me from the inside out.

As I lay in the hospital bed, my whole body shook uncontrollably.

Grief, deeper than death, hit me like a thousand sharp needles, piercing every part of me. My breath came in gasps, and tears poured down my face, impossible to stop.

I couldn't stop crying. The tears just kept coming, soaking my hospital gown and pulling me under.

And yet, nothing but silence remains.

Then Regina spoke, her voice trembling in disbelief. "Aren't you worried she'll find out the truth?"

Luke chuckled in amusement.

"Worried?" he echoed. "Please. I'm a billionaire. The spare change in my account could buy her entire family's lives."

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms like he'd just won something. "People like them? You toss a few extra checks their way, and they'll cry and call it a blessing."

Time blurred after that.

Eventually, the hallway quieted.

Regina came back in. She didn't speak at first. She just stood there, running her fingers absentmindedly over the curve of her belly.

"Back then, that year…" she started, her voice faint, something almost vulnerable behind it.

But whatever emotion almost surfaced, she shut it down fast.

"Forget it," she snapped, her tone icy. "Just sign the divorce papers. Get out of our lives."

She turned to go but paused at the door.

"As compensation," she said coolly, "I'll give you $50 million."

Then she was gone.

...

The following morning, I canceled the budget flight and reserved three first-class tickets instead.

On the way to the airport, I passed a donation bin. Without a second thought, I dropped in the diamond ring Luke had once given me—the one he bought after working five jobs, the one he said symbolized 'forever.'

I didn't look back.

My phone buzzed nonstop.

Call after call.

Message after message.

Luke's name flashed on the screen like a warning sign.

It was enough to push me over the edge.

Without hesitation, I yanked the SIM card out, snapped it in two, and tossed the pieces—along with whatever was left of my love for him—into a storm drain.

...

Luke's POV

I sat behind my desk, my jaw clenching so tight it throbbed.

The 27th missed call stared at me from the screen, mocking me. For five years, she'd picked up on the first ring.

Now? Three hours. Nothing.

I slammed my palm against the desk, the sound cracking through the office like a gunshot in the dark.

"Go find out where my wife is," I snapped at my assistant. "Now."

I paused. "Wait, also... get the blue diamond necklace I bought for Regina ready."

My assistant hesitated, uncertain. "What color should the gift box be?"

My fingers froze mid-air. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

I had no idea what color Alyssa liked.

'Did I ever ask?'

I twitched, then waved him off. "Pink. I guess."

I quickly redialed Alyssa's number for the 28th time. This time, I cleared my throat, preparing to sound as apologetic as possible.

"The number you dialed is not in service. Please try again later."

The robotic voice landed like a death sentence.

Alyssa didn't just turn off her phone. She cut me off.

My hand curled into a fist. I grabbed the phone and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, pieces bouncing across the floor.

I called my assistant again, "Go to the market! I don't care what you have to do—drag her back if you have to. Just bring Alyssa home!"

Then I waited.

Paced. Sat. Stood again.

Every second scraped against my nerves like glass.

Two hours passed, and a knock came.

"Come in!" I snapped, already rolling up my sleeves, picturing the lecture I'd give.

'How dare she leave! How dare she disobey.'

Right there, the door opened. It wasn't Alyssa.

It was just my assistant, pale and sweating like he'd seen something terrible.

"Sir…" he swallowed hard. "Miss Alyssa sold the stall."