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.

After the chaos at the hospital, Rafael stayed home for three days straight.

He spared no expense hiring a maternity nurse, learned how to massage Camille's body himself, and even cooked her nutritious meals with his own hands.

Watching him bustle about so attentively, Camille felt an ache in her chest.

If not for the betrayals and the wounds carved into her heart, this scene would have been bliss.

But after everything, his tenderness now felt like mockery.

Still, she told herself—it wasn't so bad. As long as nothing happened, in five days she could slip away quietly.

So when Rafael suggested they visit the temple together to pray for their child's safety, she didn't refuse.

But when she returned to the hall holding the blessed bracelet given by the master, her blood froze.

Rafael was lighting a blessing lamp for Katherine's child.

And he had dared to place that lamp right beside her parents' memorial tablets.

Fury consumed her. Without thinking, she rushed forward and slapped the lotus lamp off the altar.

"Rafael! Have you no shame? Pray for your bastard if you want—I won't stop you. But how dare you defile my parents' spirits by putting it here! Aren't you afraid that by tainting their peace, you'll only curse that bastard child of yours instead?"

Her words lit his rage. His palm cracked across her face before he even realized it.

Both of them froze in shock.

But Rafael didn't help her up when she collapsed to the ground. Instead, his voice thundered through the temple.

"You're a mother yourself now! How can you be so cruel, so venomous as to curse an innocent child?"

Camille's ears rang from the blow. She laughed bitterly, tears burning her eyes.

"Cruel? Compared to you, I wouldn't dare claim the word."

His gaze flickered, as if her words had scraped against his guilty conscience. But he pressed on, unwilling to yield.

"Don't twist things to shift blame! Do you still think you're the rich heiress you once were? Stop clinging to that pride. If not for me marrying you, you'd have been begging for scraps just to survive!"

His sharp words pierced her heart like knives. Never had she imagined the man she once risked everything for would one day strip her dignity so ruthlessly.

"Rafael, have you forgotten? Everything you have now came from the Hudson family. My parents died because of it! And now you humiliate me in front of their tablets—are you even human?"

They stood locked in hostility when Katherine's call came through.

Rafael let out a long, weary sigh. With cold command, he ordered the guards to escort Camille home, then left in a hurry.

From that day on, she was placed under virtual house arrest. Rafael didn't return home, not even once. He didn't call, didn't send a message.

And yet, Camille knew his every move.

Katherine made sure she did—gleefully sending her updates every day.

Sometimes it was news of him accompanying her to burn incense at her dog's grave.

Sometimes it was videos of them shopping for baby supplies together.

Camille endured it, indifferently, until the third afternoon.

That was when Katherine called her via video chat.

The screen jolted—and Camille's world collapsed.

Her parents' memorial tablets were engulfed in flames.

Every muscle in her body went rigid. Then the camera shifted, and she saw Rafael shielding Katherine with his arm... while standing there, watching, as the tablets turned charred black.

Her mind nearly shattered. Her parents' ashes were already gone—if even the tablets were destroyed, she feared she would lose her last shred of sanity.

She stumbled to the front doors of the villa, pounding on them, screaming for the guards to let her out.

Minutes bled into hours but no one answered.

Her rage and grief surged, tearing through her chest.

With a final cry, blood gushed from her lips. Darkness swallowed her as she fainted.

Camille was jolted awake by Rafael's furious roar mixed with Katherine's sobbing.

"You almost caused Camille to lose the baby! If anything had happened to her, I would never forgive you!"

The moment he noticed Camille had woken up, Rafael yanked Katherine over to the bedside and forced her down.

"Kneel. Apologize to her."