I didn’t hesitate for a second.

As soon as I completed the discharge paperwork, I went straight home and started packing.

The sound of a key turning in the lock came just as I was stuffing a folded pile of clothes into my suitcase.

The zipper was only halfway closed, leaving a few of my favorite dresses exposed.

When Gifford pushed the door open, his gaze swept across the open suitcase, and his brows immediately drew together.

“Packing?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of suspicion.

Flustered, I pressed a knit sweater on top to cover the clothes inside and forced out a stiff smile.

“Mm, just changing seasons. I’m putting away the thick clothes.”

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Even my fingertips trembled, terrified he’d see through me.

He clearly didn’t believe it. He walked over, crouched down, and traced a finger along the edge of the suitcase.

“You usually let the housekeeper handle this kind of thing. What’s gotten into you to handle this yourself today?”

“Nothing,” I replied evenly. “Just wanted to keep myself busy.”

His gaze lingered on my face, probing, but he didn’t press further. After a pause, he stood up and said simply, “I’m going to take a shower.”

I let out a quiet breath of relief and quickly zipped the suitcase shut.

But when I looked up, I saw that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom. He was standing still in the living room.

Following his gaze, my blood ran cold. Lying on the dark carpet, glaringly white against the black, was the pregnancy test report I’d brought back from the hospital that morning.

It must have fallen during the argument we had then.

“What’s that?” His voice cut through the silence.

Before I could even think, I lunged forward and pressed my foot over the paper.

“Nothing… Just a receipt from the supermarket,” I stammered, turning around quickly, trying to keep my expression calm. “I was planning to use it for a return, but it slipped out of my bag.”

His eyes dropped to my foot, and his frown deepened. “A receipt? Let me see it.”

“No need!” My voice shot up, sharper than I intended, trembling with panic I couldn’t hide. “It’s useless anyway. I’ll just ask the housekeeper to handle the return later.”

I stepped back slightly, blocking his view. “Didn’t you say you were going to shower? You should go. The water will get cold.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, and I clenched my fists tight, praying he wouldn’t ask another question.

The air between us hung heavy for a moment until his phone chimed. Obviously, it was a message from Dakota.

He didn’t say anything else. He just turned around, grabbed his car keys, and walked out.

The sound of the door closing hit me like a release. My knees gave out, and I nearly collapsed onto the floor.

I snatched the pregnancy report from under my shoe, crumpled it tightly, and pressed it against my chest.

Back in the bedroom, I yanked the suitcase zipper shut with a hard click.

Staring at the door Gifford had just walked through, only one thought filled my mind.

‘Before I leave, I can’t let him find out I’m pregnant.’

With that, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Devon.

[Change of plans. Come pick me up in three days.]

Time was running out. I quickened my pace, hastily packing the rest of my things.

The door burst open just as I was finishing up the last of my luggage in the master bedroom.

Gifford entered, supporting Dakota by the arm. Her belly was faintly rounded, and her face carried a deliberately delicate expression. One hand rested gently on her belly, as though she were the most fragile thing in the world.

“The master bedroom is for Dakota,” Gifford said flatly. “You’ll move to the guest room.”

His tone left no room for discussion, like a command from someone who believed Dakota was the true lady of this house.

I froze for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “And why should I? This is our marital home. The master bedroom belongs to you and me.”

“It’s different now,” he said stiffly, avoiding my gaze. “Dakota is pregnant. She needs rest. The master bedroom is larger, and it gets better sunlight.”

I looked straight into his eyes, every word sharp as a blade. “Whose child is she carrying, Gifford? Do you dare say it’s yours?”

“Don’t forget who caused the death of our child,” I continued between my clenched teeth. “Don’t tell me you let my enemy get pregnant with your child.”

His expression darkened instantly. “Goddamn it, what nonsense are you spouting, Austria?” he shouted. “Nothing is going on between me and Dakota. Don’t use your filthy suspicions to judge her!”

“And don’t forget,” he continued harshly, “our child’s death wasn’t her fault. If you had taken better care of him, he wouldn’t have gotten sick and died from a fucking fever!”

At that, Dakota shrank slightly into his arms, her eyes reddening as tears gathered at the corners. Her voice trembled, choked with practiced gentleness.

“Don’t be so upset… If she doesn’t like it, I can sleep in the guest room. It’s fine, really.”

But even as she spoke, her hand clung tighter to his arm, her eyes filled with pitiful grievance.

“Look what you’ve done—you’ve frightened her!” Gifford snapped, stepping protectively in front of her. “I’m warning you, Austria. Behave yourself, or don’t blame me for the consequences.”

I looked at the two of them—this nauseating scene, and a wave of disgust swept through me.

This man, for the sake of a woman who had once caused the death of his own child, was not only driving me out of my own bedroom but also denying that shameful truth of what had happened.

“Fine, I’ll do that,” I said finally, forcing down the anger rising in my throat. “But on one condition.”

I pulled a document from my suitcase and handed it to him. “Sign this contract, and I’ll move out.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Gifford scrawled his signature across the paper.

“There. It’s signed,” he said coldly with a mocking smile. “Now, get out of the master bedroom.”

I took the document back and smiled faintly, raising my hand to show Dakota the diamond wedding ring on my finger.

“Dakota, remember this—until Gifford and I are legally divorced, we are still husband and wife.”

“And you,” I added, my tone sharp, “the moment you cross the line, you’ll be nothing but the third party in my marriage.”

With that, I turned and walked away.

At that moment, the last shred of attachment in my heart disintegrated completely.

If Gifford had cared for me at all, he would have realized that the document he’d just signed was not a contract… but a divorce agreement.

That night, I sent a brief message to Devon.

[Plans have changed. You can come pick me up tomorrow.]

He replied almost instantly with a simple [All right.]

After turning off my phone, I smiled faintly and rested my hand on my still-flat belly.

“Baby,” I whispered, “forgive me. I won’t let your father know about you. But to make it up to you, I promise, I’ll give you a home—a happy one.”

The sound of the guest room lock turning echoed softly as I sat curled up in the corner of the bed, holding my belly and looking through a worn photo album.

On one of the yellowed pages was a picture of my first child just after he was born—his tiny mouth curved in a faint smile, warm and soft like a ball of cotton.

“What little treasure are you looking at, Austria?”

Dakota’s voice broke the quiet. Gone was her fragile, pitiful tone she used in front of Gifford. Her words now dripped with blatant malice.

When I ignored her, she lifted the moon-shaped necklace that hung from her neck, tilting her head slightly as if to show it off.

My chest tightened. I lifted my gaze to meet hers.

I didn’t want to fight with her—not now, not while I still had to protect the baby I was carrying—but that necklace… that was the last thing my Grandma, the person who loved me the most, had ever left me.

If it weren’t for my baby, I would never have agreed to give that precious heirloom to the woman who had hurt my firstborn.

“Girl,” she said, smirking, “I don’t even want to keep a dead woman’s old necklace.”

Her tone sharpened, cruel delight glinting in her eyes. “But knowing that I stole it from you—that’s what really thrills me.”

“Dakota,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady, “what exactly do you want?”

“What do I want?” she asked back, scoffing. “You, of all people, should know best. These years, haven’t I made it obvious? Every single thing I did was to provoke you little by little.”

Before I could react, she yanked the necklace off her neck in one quick motion.

Realizing what she meant to do, I cried out, “Don’t!”

“Dakota, all the things you’ve done to hurt me—I can let them go. I won’t hold them against you. Just… please, give my grandmother’s necklace back,” I begged.

But she only curled her lips into a cruel smile, her words cold enough to freeze the air between us.

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” she sneered. “I just love watching you in pain. That’s what makes me feel alive.”

Then, she let go.

My grandma’s necklace hit the floor with a sharp clink, the sound slicing straight through my heart.

“Austria,” she said mockingly, “this isn’t enough.”

The heel of her stiletto came down hard.

And with a crack, the beautiful jade pendant shattered into several pieces beneath her shoe.

“No… don’t!”

I could only watch, helpless, as the moon-shaped jade pendant—carved by my grandmother’s own hands—was crushed before my eyes.

Suddenly, I remembered that day so clearly, when Grandma called me to her bedside for the last time.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry for me anymore. If you keep crying, you’ll stop being pretty.”

“Here,” she said, pressing the necklace into my palm, “this moon pendant—I made it myself. I hope that even when you go through darkness, you’ll shine again, just like the moon.”

She caressed my cheek with a smile. “Wear it, hm? And think of it as Grandma staying by your side.”

Over the years, I had replaced so many things—earrings, rings, bracelets—but that necklace had never left my neck. It was the one thing I treasured most.

Now, it lay shattered on the floor, my memories trampled into dust.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling down not from sorrow, but from the sharp and unbearable ache in my chest.

Dakota looked at my pale face and laughed triumphantly. Grinding her heel against the broken pieces once more, she said, “Already heartbroken? It’s just a worthless keepsake. The real pain… hasn’t even started yet.”