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.”

After giving me that threat, Dakota snatched the album from my hands and produced a lighter.

The flame caught instantly; the photos were engulfed, and within moments, the album was reduced to a charred black bundle.

I watched helplessly as the smiling face of my firstborn in the photo was devoured by fire, the paper curling and turning to blackened ash.

“Dakota! Are you fucking insane?!”

I lost whatever shred of reason I had left. I lunged forward and shoved her to the floor, my nails digging deep into her arm.

She screamed and kicked at me, but pain didn’t stop me. I wanted to strangle her to end what she had done.

All I could see was that heap of ash growing smaller and smaller—the memory I had hidden away for three years.

“Stop!”

Gifford burst into the room and pulled me away from Dakota.

I slammed against the wall; my back went numb, but I still struggled to throw myself at her.

“Gifford! Don’t you have any conscience?” I spat at him. “That woman burned our son’s photos, and you’re still protecting her?”

“It was just an old photo album! Do you have to be like this?” He put Dakota behind him, his brow knotted. “She’s pregnant. What happens if you hurt her?”

“Pregnant?” I laughed, but the laughter was drowned by the rush of tears. “What about my son? He’s been dead for three years! Who will make up for him?”

“If it weren’t for that woman, our son wouldn’t have gotten sick and died!” I snapped.

I threw myself forward, trying to shove past Gifford to drag out the one who ruined everything.

“Have you had enough of this?” He tightened his grip on my wrists and stopped me from getting any closer to Dakota. “I told you she didn’t do it on purpose. Can’t you understand that?”

“No!” I shouted back. “I swear I’m gonna kill that bitch!”

At that point, I had lost all reason; I only wanted to go down together with that woman.

What I didn’t expect was for Gifford to raise his hand and hit me once more.

The sound was crisp in the stunned silence that followed.

His arm froze in midair; for a moment, his face showed panic and something like regret.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he wanted to say more.

But I couldn’t hear anything anymore.

The burn on my cheek stung, but it was nothing compared to the collapse inside my chest.

I looked at him and felt the last fragments of hope in me shatter completely.

He stood there rigid, remorse and fluster flickering across his eyes.

In that instant, the air hung heavy. He seemed about to speak, but his throat closed, and he could only watch the light in my eyes dim bit by bit.

“Gifford, look at her… Isn’t she crazy?” Dakota suddenly shrank into his arms, her voice sweetly affected. “When she hit me just now, her eyes were red like she wanted to kill me. I was so afraid…”

“Now, she plays the victim? If you ask me, she needs to be taught a lesson,” that bitch suggested.

Just like that, Gifford’s brow tightened again; whatever guilt he’d felt evaporated under Dakota’s words.

He lowered his hand and turned his expression cold. “Austria, you’ve terribly disappointed me.”

Gifford turned his head toward the corner of the room, where a dog, chained by an iron link, lay quietly watching us. He was the pet Dakota had bought just last month.

My heart leapt to my throat, and every hair on my body stood on end.

“Lock her up with General,” Gifford ordered coldly, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

General—that was the dog’s name.

“No!” The word tore from my throat in a hysterical scream. I stumbled backward, nearly falling as I scrambled away in a panic. “Gifford, please! I’m afraid of dogs, and you know that! I’m allergic to their fur, have you forgotten?”

Suddenly, a sharp pain clenched in my lower abdomen. I pressed a trembling hand to my belly, where a tiny life was taking root.

“I can’t be agitated… I really can’t…” My voice cracked as I begged, “Please don’t do this…”

I didn’t dare tell him I was pregnant, but the terror in my voice was real.

“Afraid of dogs? Allergic?” Dakota sneered, unfastening the dog’s chain with a lazy flick of her wrist. “You’re such a good actress, Austria. General’s been here all along, hasn’t he? Funny how I never saw you show any sign of fear or allergy before.”

I trembled uncontrollably, forcing the words out in a whisper. “That’s because he’s always been chained far away from me.”

She laughed softly and nudged the dog with the tip of her shoe. “Allergies pass if you endure them. Fear can be overcome, too. You’ve just been spoiled. Time to reflect on that, don’t you think?”

The dog wagged his tail and began to inch closer, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

I felt the blood drain from my face, and my body went rigid with cold dread. I turned to Gifford, my eyes wide with pleading. “Gifford, my stomach hurts… Please… just this once, let me go…”

“Reflect on your actions, and fix that temper of yours,” he interrupted sharply. “Dakota’s right—you’ve been coddled too long. Spend the night here, calm down, and maybe then, you’ll realize what you did wrong. This is for your own good.”

Just like that, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The click of the lock that followed hit me like a hammer to the chest.

Gradually, like a predator, the dog crept closer and closer.

My skin began to itch, the allergic reaction already setting in, while waves of pain twisted in my belly.

I could only curl up against the wall, frantically waving my arms to keep the dog away.

But more than the fear of the animal, what terrified me most… was that this fragile yet precious life inside me might be forced away… by its own father’s cruelty.

Cradling my belly, I whispered desperately to the child within me, “Baby… your father treats me like this only because he doesn’t know you exist.”

“Please…” I begged, “don’t leave me because of him.”

The night dragged on endlessly, thick with fear and silence.

I didn’t dare fall asleep. I was terrified that the next time I opened my eyes, I would no longer feel the faint but stubborn pulse of life stirring beneath my hand.