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.

Camille thrashed in panic, but rough hands pinned down her wrists and ankles, another clamped over her mouth. She was nothing more than meat laid on the butcher's block, helpless beneath the blade.

The injection ended quickly. Then they dragged her into another room.

A nurse stuffed gauze into her mouth, strapped her tightly to the bed, and picked up an electric probe, pressing it against her belly.

The low, ominous hum of the machine sounded like a death curse. Camille's desperate cries dissolved into muffled whimpers.

Pain like needles stabbing into her abdomen spread through her body in violent waves. She convulsed, her limbs jerking uncontrollably.

One round ended—only for the nurse to jab another needle into her arm before resuming the shocks.

Her mind slipped into a haze. Her body lost control of even its most basic functions. The torment dragged on, hour after hour, until deep into the night.

When it finally ended, she lay crumpled like a beaten dog in filth and stench. That was when Katherine strolled in.

"Tsk, tsk... look at you, Miss Hudson—so dirty and foul."

She waved a hand in front of her nose in mock disgust, then nudged Camille's stomach with the tip of her shoe.

Malice gleamed in her eyes.

"Don't worry. I don't intend to kill that bastard in your belly. I just want you and that child—to suffer a little first."

Looking at her smug, venomous expression, Camille's hatred boiled over.

"You're nothing but a beast! If you want Rafael, that secondhand trash, take him! But why hurt my child?"

"If you're so capable, why don't you make him divorce me and marry you openly?"

Her words struck like a whip, and Katherine's face twisted with fury.

"If it hadn't been for your scheming parents, the marriage alliance with him would have been mine!"

"But what did you gain? You bled your family dry, and still ended up with nothing!"

"And now? Rafael loves me. Even the slightest pregnancy sickness, and he's frantic with worry! While you were being electrocuted, soiled and broken, he was listening to my baby's heartbeat."

"Camille, accept it—you and your cursed family were born cheap. You'll never beat me!"

The venom in her words snapped Camille's restraint. With every ounce of strength left, she lunged at Katherine.

But just as she was about to reach her, Rafael burst into the room.

He instinctively pulled Katherine into his arms and shoved Camille away. She crashed to the floor, pain shooting through her battered body.

When he finally looked at her—her clothes fouled, her face was ghostly pale—his expression faltered. Guilt flickered, and he almost reached to help her up.

"Rafael! Thank heavens you came in time!" Katherine clung to him, tears spilling instantly. "Miss Hudson can't stand my child's existence. She tried to kill us both!"

Camille let out a bitter laugh at her shameless lie and forced out the truth—that Katherine had colluded with hospital staff to torture her.

But Rafael cut them both off, his face clouded with gloom.

"Enough! Both of you are pregnant, yet you can't behave yourselves? Must you stir up trouble again and again?"

"Katherine, I told you not to provoke Camille. Why can't you listen? If you're unwell, go home and rest instead of running about!"

His words sounded like a scolding, but his tone dripped with tenderness.

Then he turned to Camille. Seeing her filthy, trembling body, some flicker of pity softened his gaze.

"Camille, this is your fault too. Katherine may be a little willful, but you're also expecting. Shouldn't you both show each other some tolerance?"

Camille stared at him, stunned. Then a laugh broke from her lips—harsh, broken, edged with despair. Tears streamed down her face.

"You're right. I was wrong. Not just me—my parents, even this child's existence, everything is a mistake!"

"Rafael, if I could turn back time, seven years ago I would've let you rot in the mud where you belonged, never to rise again!"

His pupils contracted. A sharp, inexplicable ache stabbed his chest.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, lifting her into his arms despite the filth clinging to her. His voice softened into desperate comfort.

"Camille, I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that. Don't be angry, please."

"You're carrying our child—you can't let your emotions spiral like this. Come home with me. I'll take you home."

Without sparing Katherine another glance, he strode out, carrying Camille in his arms.