Clara’s Perspective

It was our fifth wedding anniversary. I had told Liam I was traveling for work, but I came home instead, clutching an anniversary gift and a secret I couldn’t wait to tell him.

My husband Liam had always been interested in a collaboration with the Bennett Corporation, so I begged my father—who had insisted I go out and gain experience—for this project. Finally, he secured the deal. I put the document with the Bennett director’s signature into the gift box I had painstakingly prepared.

In my other hand I held a pregnancy test, tightly clenched. Two pink lines. I wanted to tell him good news: he was going to be a father again.

For five years we had been hoping for a child, but I had been pregnant five times and had five miscarriages. Finally, a child of ours was coming.

A brilliant smile on my face, I walked lightly into our house.

The living room was a mess—clothes scattered everywhere, a black dress, the belt I had carefully chosen…

My head spun. I crept up the stairs, my heart pounding.

The master bedroom door was half open. Liam was with my best friend Vanessa.

Vanessa lay on the couch I’d bought, a loose tank top slipping off her arm, her lipstick smudged. One of her legs was thrown over his shoulder, and he knelt between her legs, his shirt rumpled, one hand lifting her red-soled high heel.

I nearly blacked out. My God—what was I seeing?

My best friend… and my husband.

I opened my mouth to scream but the sound was trapped in my throat.

For a long instant I couldn’t move or breathe. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; my reason wanted to deny it, to pretend this was a twisted nightmare.

Because it couldn’t be real.

Vanessa—the woman who had stayed by my side through every bout of morning sickness, who had watched over me every time I miscarried.

And now she was here, panting softly in my husband’s arms.

Betrayal hit me like ice water.

My chest tightened, tears welled in my eyes, and I stared dumbly at the scene.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to rush in, tear her off him.

But my body wouldn’t obey. I stood frozen in the doorway, the gift trembling in my hand.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, Sean’s phone rang.

He frowned, stepped back from Vanessa, and answered, his hand still at her waist.

“Is the surgery scheduled?” he said into the phone. “Seven days from now. I’ll bring Clara to the hospital on time. You only need to make sure Clara’s kidney is given to Vanessa—nothing else to worry about.”

“That doesn’t violate your medical ethics,” the voice said. “The donation agreement bears Clara’s own signature. She’s too foolish—she didn’t even look. The recipient’s name was already changed to Vanessa.”

What? Wasn’t it Liam who was supposed to be sick and need a kidney?

A month ago Liam said he was ill and that only my kidney matched him. He knelt on the floor and cried, begging me to save him. He said he loved me and can't leave me alone in this world like this; he wanted to live to a hundred with me.

With tears all over my face, I signed the kidney donation agreement he handed me.

That kidney was actually for Vanessa?

The call ended.

Vanessa puckered her lips and traced a circle on his chest with her fingertip.

She laughed softly, syrupy: “Liam, you’re ruthless. If Clara found out the truth, would she hate you?”

Liam snorted. “Hate? A woman from the slums—what right has she to hate? I gave up the bone marrow and lives of five children; one of Clara’s kidneys is nothing. You’re the one who matters in my heart.”

Those words—“bone marrow transplant”—stabbed me like a knife. Five children? Bone marrow?

My ears rang, but I forced myself to keep listening.

I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but Liam’s reply was like poisoned ice: “Those five children shouldn’t have lived. You needed their bone marrow to treat the disease—that was their value. If not for you needing it, how could a woman like Clara ever sleep with me? Clara? She’s just a container.”

My legs went weak; I could barely stand.

The pregnancy test in my hand fell to the floor with a faint sound. They didn’t notice.

My five miscarriages… were they not accidents?

Vanessa had been with me each time I miscarried. She made soup for me, cried with me, told me those children had only temporarily gone back to heaven.

She said, “They’ll always be with us.”

It turned out to be true.

My children… their bone marrow flowed inside her body.

My husband and my best friend were the killers of my five children; those poor children never had a chance to see their mother.

And now they were planning to trick me into giving up my kidney seven days from now.

I braced myself against the wall and stepped backward, tears sliding down silently.

I went back to the bedroom, locked the door, my whole body shaking. My phone vibrated—Vanessa had posted.

A photo of two hands holding, captioned: “Thank you for everything. Soon, we’ll truly be together.”

On that wrist was the watch I’d given Liam for his birthday last year.

I ran to the bathroom and vomited until my body ached.

Seven days from now was the kidney operation I had signed up for.

It was also the day my five-year training period ended, the day I could return home.

I picked up the phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in five years.

“Dad,” I said, “seven days from now my training period ends. Help me prepare the heir banquet and the suitor-selection banquet.”

“Why the sudden change of heart? Didn’t you say you’d go with Liam to the death?” he asked.

“He killed my five children,” I said coldly. “I want him to pay.”

My father’s voice grew serious. “I told you he wasn’t worthy. The heirs of those major families have been waiting five years for you to say that.”

I closed my eyes and let tears fall.

“Tell everyone I’m coming back,” I said.

After I hung up, I took one last look around the place I had called “home.”

Seven days from now the surgery would be canceled, and the marriage would end.

I would make Liam pay for what he had done.

He sacrificed everything of mine to save his lover. Now I would make him watch his world crumble piece by piece.

This was a mother’s vow.

And my father was no ordinary man. He was the real power behind the Bennett conglomerate—the richest man in Asia.

He had always cherished me above all.

I hung up and went straight to the hospital to cancel the kidney-donation paperwork.

The doctor told me the donor had to sign the revocation. I had seven days — seven days to make Vanessa sign the withdrawal and remove the threat to my life.

From the hospital I went to a law firm to have a lawyer draw up divorce papers.

“Oh, ma’am,” the clerk said, peering at the records on the screen, “your file shows you are unmarried. You and Mr. Liam Foster are not listed as spouses.”

Even after the shock I’d just been through, my brain blanked for a second.

Unmarried? But Liam and I had registered a marriage five years ago.

At the time I had just stepped away from the Bennett family. As an heir I needed to hide my identity and complete certain missions to grow stronger. I got sick soon after — I remember meeting Liam outside the hospital. He courted me feverishly; he said he loved me at first sight. We fell in love and were married quickly. Until today I’d believed he loved me back the way I loved him.

I asked the clerk to check Liam’s marital status again.

He looked at me with suspicion. “Liam Foster’s spouse is listed as Vanessa Cole — they were married five years ago.”

I laughed then, a sound that broke into bitter tears.

It was all fake from the beginning. The love was fake, the marriage certificate a sham. The only thing real was the suffering — and the five children I had lost.

I tore the counterfeit marriage certificate to pieces and left the law office reeling.

Back at the villa I dragged out a suitcase from the back of the closet. My fingers trembled but I forced myself to move — if I stopped, if I let myself feel, the truth would swallow me whole.

I shoved clothes into the case mechanically. When I picked up a canary-yellow dress, my hand froze.

Liam had taken me shopping for that dress when I lost my third child. He’d said bright colors would bring us luck. My throat closed and tears rose; I blinked them away hard.

“Clara?”

Liam’s voice came from behind me, threaded with a faint alertness. “You’re home? What are you doing?”

I snapped the suitcase shut and forced a nasty smile. “Just sorting out seasonal clothes,” I said, trying to sound casual.

He narrowed his eyes and scanned the slightly messy room and the open wardrobe. He was about to speak when another voice slithered in like a snake.

“Hey, Clara.”

Vanessa walked in with him.

My gaze landed on her without permission.My five children, whose bone marrow flowed within her, sustaining her life. The thought of it tore at me — my fingertips went numb and I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

I stayed silent. I was afraid that if I spoke, I would scream and destroy everything.

“Clara,” Liam said with repulsive entitlement, “Vanessa is pregnant and needs a more comfortable environment. Our house is quiet, the master bedroom is larger and has better light — it’ll be better for her recovery. You’ll move to the guest room starting today.”

I stared at him in disbelief, then at Vanessa with that small, satisfied smile. They were so brazen — pushing in, taking my last sanctuary.

Vanessa stepped forward and casually rested a hand on her not-yet-prominent belly, feigning contrition with the tiniest edge of triumph. “Only temporarily, Clara. After I have the baby I’ll give it back. You understand me better than anyone, don’t you? Pregnant women need the best care.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Her smile froze, surprise flickered across her face, then she quickly replaced it with an acting pout. Her lower lip trembled. “Clara, I thought… I thought you’d be understanding. After everything we’ve been through…”

“Understanding.” The word felt like a branding iron.

She had taken my children’s marrow. Now she and my husband were trying to take my kidney, my home, even my last refuge.

“Clara!” Liam’s voice snapped, accusatory. “Look at you. She’s your friend. She’s pregnant and needs the best environment. This jealous, hateful face you’re making is sickening.”

I turned to him slowly and let a cold smile curve my mouth. “Jealous?” I repeated. “Jealous of what?”

His gaze flickered. “Because she can carry a pregnancy when you —” He cut himself off, but the implication stung like venom. Because I lost my children. Because he had killed them.

I drew a breath and suppressed the rising violence in my chest. “Liam,” I said, letting my eyes trace them both, “since you’re so eager to make room for her… is this baby yours?”

The air went still.

Liam’s jaw tightened. Vanessa widened her eyes in an exaggerated hurt.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “Of course not.”

“Is that so?” I raised my brow. “Then why are you more invested in this baby than the father might be? Why would you insist on kicking your wife out of her own bedroom?”

“She’s alone, Clara. She’s pregnant. What kind of monster would be petty about a room right now?” he almost howled.

What kind of monster kills his five children? The question hung in my mind, unspoken.

I swallowed the words back down. I stopped looking at him, zipped my suitcase with a harsh sound, and said, voice shaking, “…Fine.”

I was already packing. I didn’t want to spend another second in this room full of betrayal.

He looked relieved, as if a problem had been solved.

“Liam?” Vanessa prompted.

He started to walk away.

“Wait, Liam.” I called calmly and picked up a folder that had been on my bedside table. “There’s one document I need you to sign.”

He scowled impatiently. “Clara, I don’t have time—”

“It’s just our fifth-anniversary gift,” I cut in, soft, and handed him the paper and a pen. “Just sign here. It’ll be quick.”

He hesitated, then Vanessa called his name. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, grabbed the pen, and scribbled his signature where I pointed without looking.

I watched his final stroke with no expression while my heart hammered in my chest.

In that moment I was oddly grateful they’d already registered a marriage —After all, it would be much easier to trick Liam into signing the agreement to revoke the donation.

He left without a backward glance for the woman who’d taken my room. The door closed.

I immediately called my lawyer, my voice steady and cold: I would keep the revocation paperwork with me and wait until Vanessa was in surgery and I was out of the city before I handed it to the hospital.

Then I called Liam’s business partners. Using the Bennett name, I announced sanctions: in seven days, companies tied to Liam would stop cooperating with him.

Seven days. I was going to make sure the rest of his world began to crumble.

Over the next few days I split my time between preparing to leave and going through the paperwork my family had sent.

I should have left immediately, but I wanted to bring my five lost children home with me.

Because they were late-term losses, each child had been cremated; the tiny urns were at the cemetery and — according to procedure — wouldn’t be released until six days later. I didn’t want to risk doing anything that might draw Liam’s attention. My trial period would end in a few days; nothing could go wrong in that time.

I put the signed revocation agreement into the safe.

Then I took out a glass jar filled with ashes. When Liam courted me he once wrote me ninety-nine love letters — I burned them all, and the ashes just filled that jar.

I pulled our photos from the treasured album and set them on fire too.

I would erase every trace of myself from this house.

The flames roared, then slowly died down, just like our love. With every handful of ash I added, my disappointment grew heavier. When the jar was full, it meant my disappointment was full too.

When Liam came home he walked into the study and caught sight of the smoke. The smell of burning filled the house; it was impossible not to notice. He frowned. “What are you burning?” he asked.

I turned to block his view and said lightly, “Just some waste paper.”

His frown deepened. He glimpsed small fragments — they looked like photos — and took a step forward to see.

Panic flared inside me; I was about to invent a story to avoid explanations when a woman’s weak sobbing came from outside the door.

Liam bolted from the room.

Before I could gather myself, he rushed back in, grabbed my hand and shoved me against the table. His palm pushed into the still-warm ash pile; the heat made me flinch. My hip struck the corner of the table — a sharp, spreading pain bloomed across my lower back.

I tried to lift my head. Liam’s eyes were bloodshot, hungrily furious. He squeezed my wrist until my knuckles went white. “Tell me! Did you drug Vanessa?!” he demanded.

Pain stole my breath; my wrist felt like it would snap. “What are you talking about? I’ve never even met her!” I gasped.

“Never met her?” He shoved me to the floor. I hit the cold tile hard; the table leg knocked into my lower back and the world swam black at the edges. He glared down at me, disgust in every syllable. “She started bleeding this morning — almost had a miscarriage. Someone gave her an abortifacient. Who else could it be besides you? You’re jealous that she’s pregnant and you want to ruin her!”

“Jealous?” I pushed myself up on my elbows; hot tears slid down my face, not from the pain but because his words were knives. “Liam, do you forget our five children? You know what it’s like to lose a child. How could I ever hurt a pregnant woman?”

“Don’t you dare bring up those children!” he snapped, kicking a chair so it clattered over. “If you hadn’t been sick, those kids wouldn’t have died! Now you see Vanessa might be carrying my child and you’re jealous — you want to destroy her, right?”

“I didn’t!” I shouted, chest heaving. “Have you even seen her prenatal record? Are you sure she’s pregnant? She hasn’t had one proper check-up. What proof do you have that this is your child?”

At that moment, footsteps came to the doorway. Vanessa stood there, clutching her belly, pale, red-rimmed eyes pleading. She rushed to Liam, grabbing his arm. “Liam, don’t be angry. Maybe it was my fault — I must have been careless. It’s not my sister’s doing…”

“Not her doing?” Liam immediately softened and shielded Vanessa with his body, holding her waist like a sacred thing, but his glare cut back to me like a blade. “Look how kind Vanessa is — she still speaks up for you! And you? All you do is spread jealousy and sabotage. What else are you good for?”

I watched Vanessa’s eyes peeking from behind Liam. There was no panic there — only a faint, almost imperceptible triumph. Suddenly the pieces clicked: she wasn’t pregnant at all. This whole thing was her trap.

“Vanessa,” I said, stepping forward and pinning her with my gaze, each word deliberate, “are you willing to go to the hospital with me right now for a check? Let’s see if you’re actually pregnant.”

Vanessa’s face changed in an instant. She clutched Liam’s shirt and sobbed, voice breaking, “Sister, how can you force me? I just had a miscarriage; I’m still weak…”

“Weak?” I let out a cold laugh and pushed myself to stand, the back of my hand pressed to my bruising hip. Pain made me wince. “If you were truly pregnant and had just miscarried, why won’t you go to the hospital? Liam, wake up. She’s lying to you.”

But Liam believed I was trying to corner Vanessa. He scooped her up into his arms and turned toward the door. At the threshold he paused and, with his back to me, said, “Consider this a warning: from now on you are not to come within a foot of Vanessa. If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you.”

I watched their retreating figures and felt a bitter, absurd amusement. Five years of my love, given away to the dog.