"Camille, you gave up everything to help Rafael rebuild his family. You spent all your wealth, and he treated you like his most precious treasure ever since."

"Now he's just gotten a little too close to Katherine—it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Why go as far as faking your own death?"

Her friend's voice trembled with worry as she watched Camille sign the false-death agreement.

The pen in Camille's hand paused for a moment.

Just close?

So Rafael had played his role well. No one outside knew the filth between him and Katherine. But no matter how well he hid it, the pain he caused her couldn't be undone.

Thinking of her parents—dead for years, their souls unable to rest in peace—made Camille's body tremble with rage.

"I have no other choice. There's no going back between Rafael and me. Faking my death is the only way to be free. Please, stop trying to persuade me."

With that, she signed the final stroke.

Her friend sighed, helpless. "If Uncle and Aunt knew things had come to this, they would be heartbroken."

A bitter smile tugged at Camille's lips, her eyes turning red. But more than grief, what burned in her chest was guilt and regret.

Seven years ago, when the Holmes family was driven to the brink of bankruptcy by rivals, Rafael's parents died of rage and despair. Everyone thought Rafael was finished—until Camille, his childhood sweetheart, persuaded her parents to pour in their fortune and connections to save him. That choice left her own family in ruins.

When Rafael finally rose from the ashes, he crushed everyone who had once mocked Camille's family, rejected countless political marriages, and married her with fierce determination.

Their marriage had been the envy of all—sweet, devoted, seemingly unshakable. Camille had believed she had found the right man.

Until half a year ago.

A paparazzo showed up at her door with intimate photos of Rafael and Katherine, demanding money. Camille, who could not tolerate the slightest betrayal, demanded divorce on the spot.

Rafael panicked. He knelt at her parents' grave for three days and nights, begging for her forgiveness.

However, Camille remained resolute, unwavering in her stance.

In desperation, Rafael resorted to a drastic threat. "Camille, I was drunk and foolish! You know you're the only one in my heart! If you don't believe me, I'll kill myself right here and now!"

This time, Camille's heart began to soften.

After that, he reported his every move, and stayed by her side whenever he wasn't working. Slowly, she let down her guard.

But four months later, he told her Katherine was pregnant and he wanted to keep the child.

"Rafael, it's either the illegitimate child or me. Choose."

"The child is innocent. And it's my blood. Please, don't force me."

Her disappointment reached the breaking point. She prepared to file for divorce, only for him to threaten her:

"A scandal will crash the company's stock. And remember—today's Holmes family carries the legacy of your parents too. Can you bear to see it all destroyed?"

So she swallowed her fury.

But her coldness pushed him away. He came home less and less, until their marriage was an empty shell.

She thought they would just drag on like that.

Until three days ago.

A cemetery worker called, claiming Rafael had brought people to dig up her parents' graves.

When she arrived, the tomb was already desecrated.

From a distance, she saw Rafael carefully take a dead dog from Katherine's hands and gently lower it into her parents' grave.

Camille's body went cold, rage sparking through her like lightning, draining every ounce of strength from her body.

The wind carried his voice to her ears. "This is the site I chose so carefully for Camille's parents. If Browny is buried here, it will rest in peace."

Katherine, clutching her belly with fake tears glistening in her eyes, whispered, "But this is Miss Hudson's parents' grave... Won't she be angry?"

"Don't worry about it. You're carrying my child. As long as you're at peace, digging up a grave is nothing."

His words, so light and casual, struck Camille like bullets to the chest.

It was nothing?

So in his eyes, her parents were worth less than Katherine's dog?!

Thunder cracked, and rain poured. Rafael wrapped Katherine in his coat and escorted her into the car, driving away without a backward glance.

Drenched to the bone, Camille could no longer make out the voices of those lingering by the tomb. Only after they drifted away, one by one, did she summon the strength to move, staggering forward on unsteady legs.

But the moment her eyes fell upon the broken urns—her parents' ashes washed away by the storm, her heart shattered beyond repair.

"AHHHH!" Her screams split the downpour.

She clawed at the mud with bleeding hands, but there was nothing left.

"Dad, Mom, I'm sorry! It's my fault you died so horribly, I'm sorry your ashes were desecrated! I trusted the wrong man!"

She remembered their last words, recorded by the murderers who had slit their throats as revenge against Rafael.

"Camille... our only worry... is you. Rafael, take care of her. Don't let her suffer... Don't let her be bullied..."

Rafael had once sworn over their broken bodies that he would protect her for life.

Yet now, as people scatter and warmth faded, his promise had long turned cold.

For Katherine's sake, he had made sure even their souls couldn't rest.

Camille wept until she fainted.

In her dream, her parents stroked her hair, their eyes full of love.

"Camille, don't cry. Never sacrifice yourself for anyone. If you're unhappy, start a new life."

When she opened her eyes, the storm had passed.

She finally understood. It was time to leave Rafael.

—

That evening, after returning home from her friend's, Camille pulled out an old photo album. Memories flooded back, tears streaming down her face—so lost in thought she didn't notice someone behind her.

"What are you so focused on?"

Rafael wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his voice soft.

She flinched, turning to him. His eyes flickered with guilt when he saw her tears and the album in her hands.

"Thinking about your parents? It's been a while since we visited their grave. Tomorrow, let me take you there."

Her hatred surged.

To pay respects? To where? To that dog you buried there?

"I don't want to go," she flatly refused.

He looked surprised, then forced a smile. "Maybe that's better... so you don't get upset. How about I—"

"Ding-ding."

Her phone buzzed. A message from her friend flashed on the screen. [The false-death certificate had been finalized.]

Rafael leaned over to peek, but she quickly put her phone away. With his obsessive nature, if he knew she planned to vanish through death, he would never let her go.

To divert him, she said, "Take me to the temple tomorrow. I want to burn incense on my parents' memorial tablet."

His face lit up. Since Katherine's pregnancy, Camille hadn't once asked him to accompany her. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry for neglecting you lately. Don't worry—once Katherine gives birth, I'll make it up to you."

But to Camille, no apology mattered anymore.

In ten days, her ties to Rafael would be severed forever.

Inside the temple, Rafael knelt devoutly on a prayer mat, palms pressed together.

"Dad, Mom... I've been busy lately and haven't had time to bring Camille to visit you."

"So much has happened. I've failed the promise I made to you."

"Enough. Stop talking."

Camille's voice was cold, slicing through his words. "My parents don't need to hear your filth."

Guilt flickered across Rafael's face, but he pressed on, swearing solemnly, "I will never hurt you again. If I do, may I die a terrible death."

How many times had she heard such hollow vows? She had already lost count. Now, they only made her sick.

"Well, well, Miss Hudson, you're here to burn incense too?"

Katherine's voice rang out mockingly as she walked in. "Since I'm here, I should at least pay my respects to the Hudson elders."

Camille's face darkened. She clenched her jaw and spat out a single word, "Leave."

Feigning innocence, Katherine's tone was vicious. "Why so hostile? I wasn't the one who killed your parents. Who even cares about bowing to two dead people anyway? I'd be afraid of catching their bad—ah!"

The crack of a slap cut her off. Camille's palm struck hard, sending Katherine sprawling onto the floor.

"You—you dare hit me?!" she screeched. "Rafael! Are you just going to let her do that?"

Without shame, she clung to him in front of everyone, demanding his protection.

But instead of support, Rafael snapped at her, "Didn't you hear her? Get out! Do you think this is a place for your nonsense?"

A guard hauled Katherine away, her protests echoing through the temple.

Rafael glanced at Camille's stony expression, guilt twisting inside him.

"She's pregnant. Her words are harsh, but don't take them to heart. Let me stay and chant with you."

Camille drew a deep breath. She would not let a petty woman like Katherine taint her prayers.

She forced herself to ignore it. But less than ten minutes later, Rafael's phone rang.

A guard reported that Katherine was clutching her belly in pain after leaving the temple.

"What?! Take her to the hospital—I'll be right there!"

Without a backward glance, he rushed out, leaving Camille alone.

She stared at the abandoned scripture on the floor. Her face was calm, but her chest ached with bitterness.

When her parents had first passed, Rafael had come to this temple every month.

One thousand steps, one thousand prostrations.

He had copied sutras in his own blood, recited prayers day and night for years without pause.

Once, even when sick, he refused to rest—collapsing in the prayer hall.

Camille cried by his hospital bed, begging him to stop. But he only smiled faintly.

"As long as it can make you feel at ease, I'll do anything even if I must carve my bones to build a tower in their honor."

Those vows, once so sincere, were long gone—scattered like dust in the wind.

Camille spent the entire night chanting scripture. Only when dawn broke did she finally return home.

The moment she stepped into her bedroom, Rafael—reeking of alcohol—pinned her down on the bed.

Her body was weak from sleeplessness; no matter how she struggled, she could not escape.

He ravaged her with drunken hunger, and when the final rush of heat filled her body, Camille froze as though struck by lightning.

"Rafael! Are you insane?! Why didn't you use protection?"

"Why bother? You can't have children anyway. What's the difference? If by chance you could, wouldn't that be even better?"

The cruelty of his words crushed her chest. Rage surged, and she slapped him hard across the face.

Her heart throbbed with a familiar ache, like invisible hands squeezing it tight.

Back then, her parents had not been the only targets of Rafael's enemies—she also had been kidnapped during their funeral. By some twisted mercy, the kidnappers died in a car crash while fleeing, but Camille had been gravely injured.

The doctors had told her she would likely never bear children.

For years afterward, Rafael had treated her with care, always cautious, never forgetting protection.

But now—his drunken words revealed the truth. He had long since forgotten her pain.

Red-eyed, Camille pushed him away and tried to stand.

But the moment her feet touched the floor, a sharp cramp tore through her abdomen. Hot blood spilled down her legs.

The world spun.

And then everything went black.

When Camille opened her eyes again, she was lying in a hospital bed.

The stabbing pain in her lower abdomen faded, leaving only a haze of dizziness. She was just about to sit up when voices drifted in from outside the ward—Rafael speaking with the doctor.

"Miss Hudson is nearly two months pregnant now. Next time, you really shouldn't be so reckless."

"I didn't expect her to get pregnant. I'll be more careful in the future..."

Pregnant?

Her trembling hand instinctively moved to her belly. She couldn't believe that there was truly a tiny life growing inside her.

Shock coursed through her, mingling with a wave of uncertainty. Should she feel joy... or dread?

Because this child had come at the worst possible time.

Even worse, there had been no trace of delight in Rafael's voice—only annoyance, maybe even reluctance.

Would he even care for this child at all?

Before she could gather her scattered thoughts, a shrill voice pierced the corridor. Katherine had arrived.

"Rafael, Camille is pregnant? You're not going to abandon me and our child, are you? You can't do this to us!"

"Don't overthink it. Her body might not even carry this pregnancy to term. I won't give up our child for hers."

"But she's your wife. Now that she's pregnant, she'll never accept me and my baby! What if she lashes out at us—or files for divorce with the child? What will you do then?"

Katherine sobbed pitifully, every word probing at his stance.

The next moment, Rafael's cold voice cut through the air.

"She wouldn't dare touch you. As for herself... she has nothing. She's just a fallen heiress."

"For years, she has lived off me, clinging to her so-called sacrifices like some useless parasite. Without me, she couldn't survive a single day—and I won't allow her to take my bloodline away from me."

The words landed like knives, shredding Camille's dignity to pieces.

So this was how he saw her—a freeloader, a burden. She had poured her family fortune into reviving his, and in his eyes, it was nothing but leverage, a debt she still owed.

How pathetic. How laughable.

Anger surged through her, and she wanted to fling open the door, to confront him and strip away the mask. But just as she reached the doorway, Katherine raised the matter of inheritance.

“What’s there to say? Your child has Holmes and Dixon families as support—his future is already bright. Naturally, he's far more qualified to inherit my family’s business.

"As for Camille... She has nothing. Her child will end up the same—a parasite, just like her."

Katherine beamed with delight, leaning sweetly into his arms as though victory was already hers.

Camille's nails dug deep into the wooden doorframe, her teeth biting into her lip to keep from making a sound.

The Holmes family had risen by trampling over the foundation her parents built, thriving on the blood and sweat of the Hudsons.

And now Rafael wanted to hand all of it to an illegitimate child.

Watching them leave hand in hand, hatred burned so fiercely inside her she thought her chest might split apart. But she had no power, no means to fight them head-on.

All she could do was leave—leave with her child, and put as much distance as possible between herself and this filthy, treacherous family.

—

Later that afternoon, Rafael returned to the hospital. He carried a thermos of soup he had prepared himself. His eyes lit up the moment he saw she was awake, his tone brimming with feigned excitement.

"Camille, I'm so happy! I can't believe we're going to have a child!"

"I've already thought of names. If it's a girl, she'll be Felicity. If it's a boy, he'll be Russell!"

"We'll raise the baby together, just the three of us..."

He rattled on in excitement, and Camille couldn't tell if he was simply a gifted actor—or if some part of him truly meant it.

There had been a time, right after their wedding, when they too had dreamed of a future like this. Back then, she had never imagined things would turn out this way.

But his act didn't last long. By evening, the doctor came to take her for a blood test. Halfway through, Rafael got word that Katherine was at the hospital again—claiming her morning sickness had gotten worse.

Without hesitation, he rushed off, leaving Camille behind.

Watching his retreating figure, she told herself she no longer expected anything from him. And yet... disappointment still stung. He knew how much she feared needles. In the past, whenever she needed a test or treatment, he would hold her close, press his warm palm over her eyes, and whisper reassurance until she calmed down.

That man no longer existed. He had become someone else's protector.

Her chest tightened with grief—but suddenly, a sharp, unnatural pain shot through her arm.

Startled, Camille turned her head.

Looking at the man in front of her, she realized the doctor had been switched out. And now, he was injecting a pale green liquid straight into her vein.