Maria Rodriguez never imagined that the woman she’d risked her life to save would turn out to be her husband’s lover.

The doctor rushed down the crowded hospital corridor, his voice tight. "Deep stab wounds and signs of a miscarriage. Get her ready for surgery. Has anyone reached her family?"

A nurse hurried up, irritation sharp in her voice. "The husband won’t come. Says he’s busy."

Busy. Was he really tied up—or did he just not care whether she lived or died? Even with his baby inside her?

Blood soaking through her clothes, Maria fought to lift her hand. "Give me the phone."

The nurse pressed it into her palm. Gritting her teeth against the searing pain, Maria dialed the number she knew by heart. No answer.

She tried again. And again. On the fourth ring, just before voicemail picked up, a cold, furious voice cut through the line. "I told you I’m busy. Whether she lives or dies is none of my concern."

Pain lanced through Maria’s chest, but she dragged in a breath and spoke, her voice raw. "They’re taking me into surgery. I need you here—"

A mocking laugh echoed down the line. "Let me guess—if I don’t come, you’ll die?"

"I’m not lying. I’m seriously hurt."

"Is that so?" His voice dripped with contempt. "Then do us both a favor and drop dead."

"Easton—"

The line went dead before she could finish. Desperate, she called again.

"We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is switched off," the automated voice said.

The doctor saw the despair on her face and crouched beside the gurney. "We’re treating you, Maria. Is there anyone else you want us to call?"

But Maria had no one she could call at this hour. Five years ago, a car accident had taken her father and brother and left her mother in a vegetative state. Her husband, Easton Rodriguez, should have been the person she could count on. He was the one person who least seemed to care whether she survived.

Her body screamed with pain, and tears slipped down her ghostly pale face. "I can sign for myself," she whispered.

"Yes. You can."

"Then I’ll do it myself."

With the last scrap of strength she had, Maria signed the consent form.

Five hours of emergency surgery later, she had lost the baby—and nearly bled to death on the table. She was rushed to the ICU.

As the sedation began to wear off, Maria drifted in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t open her eyes yet, but voices reached her through the haze.

"That man has no heart. Even a stranger wouldn’t leave someone to die, let alone his wife. It’s bad enough he didn’t show—did he really have to say those things? Was he hoping she’d die?"

"Let’s change the subject. Did you hear? The woman in the penthouse suite on the top floor is Mr. Rodriguez’s girlfriend."

"Which Mr. Rodriguez?"

"The one they say is thirty, has never dated, and had his orientation questioned—the CEO of Rodriguez Group, Easton Rodriguez! You should’ve seen him fuss over a tiny bruise. He gathered the best doctors in the hospital and stayed by her side, taking care of her himself."

"Wow. Even the famous Mr. Rodriguez turns into a devoted boyfriend. Women really need to choose carefully, or they’ll end up like Ms. Rodriguez—married to a beast!"

Maria’s eyes snapped open. The young nurse, about to wipe her face, jumped back. "You—you’re awake?"

Ignoring the agony, Maria asked hoarsely, "What’s the name of the patient on the top floor?"

No one thought twice about gossiping near a sedated patient.

"No need to envy her. She’s not ordinary—an international piano competition winner at twelve, and lately she’s famous in the tech world. Don’t get me wrong, you’re amazing too. It’s just too bad you met the wrong person."

Realizing she wasn’t helping, the nurse gave an awkward smile. "Um, you just woke up, so try to rest."

Two days later, after she had been moved out of intensive care, Maria was cleared to walk short distances with assistance. That evening, she slipped out of her room and took the elevator to the top floor, one hand pressed over her bandages.

Outside the hospital room, she peered through the window. A man and a woman were locked in an embrace. The man was Easton Rodriguez. The woman—

Maria recognized her face and stumbled back. It was the girl she had saved with her own life.

She’d planned to start maternity leave closer to her due date. That day had started like any other. She’d worked late, shutting down her computer only after Easton left the office—a routine she’d followed for more than five years.

On her way home, a girl of about twenty had flagged down her car, begging for help. "Please help me! A drunk is trying to assault me. My phone’s dead, and I can’t call my boyfriend…"

So the boyfriend she’d mentioned was Easton Rodriguez.

As a woman, Maria couldn’t just drive away. She tried to help—but the drunk was armed with a knife. Her guard was down. The blade went into her chest, narrowly missing her heart.

Now she knew. The person she’d saved was her husband’s mistress.

No wonder he’d been too busy to come.

Maria’s body trembled uncontrollably. The irony was overwhelming. She had sacrificed her unborn child to protect his secret affair.

She wiped her tears away, turned, and left.

Inside the room, Easton—his back to the door—suddenly tensed and spun around.

"Ouch…" Kylie Taylor winced.

Easton’s attention snapped back to her. "What happened?"

Kylie glanced casually toward the window. "Nothing. Just a little pain in the wound."

Easton immediately offered, "I’ll call the doctor."

"No need. I just moved the wrong way. Easton, you don’t have to worry so much." Kylie checked the time. "It’s late. You should go home and rest. I can handle things here."

Easton hesitated. "Call the doctor if you need anything."

As he started to leave, Kylie caught his arm. "Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Alright."

Maria returned to her room. By the following evening, the doctors had cleared her for discharge with strict instructions to rest. She took a cab to the lakeside mansion she and Easton had called home for five years.

Gazing around the room—not a single wedding photo in sight—Maria let out a bitter laugh. It hadn’t been a marital home. It had been her prison for five years.

In his eyes, their marriage had been her calculated move. From the start, he had loathed her. But she had clung to hope, believing that if she just stayed in place, he would eventually see her. Five years later, his loathing had only deepened, and now he loved another woman.

Do us both a favor and drop dead.

The words echoed in her head. Maria packed her things quickly, left the signed divorce papers on the living room table, and walked out without a hint of hesitation.

Maria Rodriguez had barely stepped out of the villa when her phone rang. It was Mrs. Miller—the caretaker of the family estate. At this late hour, Maria’s first thought went to Poppy Thomas, the only member of the Rodriguez family who had ever shown her a shred of kindness. She couldn’t ignore the call.

"Maria, get to the estate. Now." Mrs. Miller’s voice was clipped, no room for argument, and she still called her "Miss Rodriguez," same as always. Maria might’ve married into the family, but to the Rodriguez staff, she’d never be anything but an outsider.

Worry for Mrs. Thomas kicked through her. Maria set her luggage down and headed straight for the estate. Easton wouldn’t be home tonight—or anytime soon, really. Once she knew Mrs. Thomas was safe, she could come back for her things.

The family estate loomed up as Maria arrived. She walked in to find Mrs. Miller waiting by the door. "Mrs. Miller, what happened with Grandma?" she asked, breathless.

Mrs. Miller’s face pinched with irritation. "The old lady’s fine. It’s Mrs. Rodriguez who can’t sleep. She’s been waiting for you to give her one of her aromatherapy massages."

Easton’s mother, Lauren Rodriguez, had never approved of Maria. To her, Maria wasn’t Easton’s wife—she was a servant to be summoned whenever the mood struck. No. Less than a servant. At least Mrs. Rodriguez treated the staff with a little courtesy. Even now, knowing Maria was pregnant, she’d demanded her presence at this godawful hour. The contempt in Mrs. Miller’s eyes was plain, but for once, Maria didn’t rush to cater to Mrs. Rodriguez’s every whim.

Relief washed through Maria when she heard Poppy Thomas was all right—then, just as fast, the pain she’d been holding back came roaring up. A searing ache tore through her chest and abdomen, fresh from the trauma. She needed rest. She turned toward the stairs.

Mrs. Miller clearly hadn’t expected defiance. She blocked Maria’s path. "The old lady won’t be back for a while. She’s away at the resort with her friends." It was a warning wrapped in a fact. In this house, Maria had no allies.

But Maria was done being afraid—of Mrs. Rodriguez’s displeasure, of Easton’s disdain, of all of it. "If she can’t sleep, maybe she should take a sleeping pill," Maria said flatly, and kept walking.

Mrs. Miller looked stunned. The once-docile young woman had grown a backbone. She hurried upstairs to tattle, and almost instantly, Mrs. Rodriguez appeared outside Maria’s bedroom, shrill and furious. "What? I’m your mother-in-law—am I not worth your respect anymore? Don’t think carrying a Rodriguez baby secures your place here. If the old lady hadn’t insisted, do you think Easton would’ve ever let you have his child?"

The words spilled out of her, all disdain, unchecked now that Poppy Thomas was away. Maria lay in bed, too weak and in too much pain to open her eyes, let alone answer.

When Maria stayed silent, Mrs. Rodriguez’s frustration boiled over. She dialed Easton. "Son, Maria’s making trouble at the estate in the middle of the night," she complained.

Maria didn’t know when the pain had dragged her under, but she woke to the loud sound of her bedroom door being forced open. The servants had unlocked it. Easton walked in, cold as winter.

He stood by her bed, his expression colder than she’d ever seen it. "Weren’t you dying when you called me?" he taunted.

Was he disappointed she hadn’t died like he’d expected? She was alive—but their child was gone. If he’d believed her, if he’d come to the hospital sooner, maybe the baby could’ve been saved. But in this heartless world, there were no if onlys.

Despite everything, Maria felt compelled to defend herself. "I didn’t lie to you—"

"Spare me the act. And stop using the baby to get my attention," Easton cut in harshly.

He’d just come back from the lakefront villa, worried when he couldn’t find her, almost fearing the worst. Yet here she was, causing drama at the estate because he hadn’t fallen for her tricks. His face darkened with anger. "I never wanted the child."

She’d braced herself for his indifference, but hearing it said so bluntly still made her tremble. Did he think she had no feelings, that his every word and action didn’t cut her to the bone? Maria met his gaze without flinching. "As you wish. It’s already—"

Her words were cut off by Easton’s phone ringing. He answered fast. "Don’t worry, I’ll be right there…" he soothed into the phone.

"Don’t let foolish thoughts tempt you. My patience with you is limited." It was his parting shot before he turned and walked out.

Maria couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. They fell, unchecked. She’d seen the name on his phone: Darling. No need to guess who that was. In his contacts, she was just an unmarked number.

"Stop crying. Get up and give me a massage. You heard my son—defy me again, and I’ll have him divorce you!" Mrs. Rodriguez’s voice sliced through Maria’s grief. Maria’s defiance startled her; she couldn’t believe the girl would risk everything she’d worked so hard to gain.

Then, unexpectedly, Maria slid back under the covers. "Do what you want," she said, indifferent.

To Mrs. Rodriguez, that defiance was an insult. She marched to the bed and dragged Maria out. "You think because you’re pregnant, I won’t dare touch you? Someone drag her out of here—and bring me something to teach her the rules of this house!"

The servants shoved Maria to the floor. She curled onto her side, guarding her surgical wounds. Mrs. Rodriguez took a golf club from Mrs. Miller. "You manipulated my son, used the press to force him into marriage, and now you think you can tie him down with a child?" She swung. Maria threw up her arm, taking the blow across her forearm and shoulder.

Maria fought to pull free, but the servants pinned her down. Pain tore through her injured body, and her cries echoed through the room. Mrs. Rodriguez stopped only when Mrs. Miller gasped, "She’s passed out!"

Mrs. Rodriguez froze, fear flickering across her face. "Mrs. Miller, is she bleeding?" she demanded.

"There’s no bleeding," Mrs. Miller said after checking Maria.

A relieved breath rushed out of Mrs. Rodriguez. "Stubborn as she is," she scoffed, "but no more hitting—at least not until Poppy’s back."

Looking down at the unconscious Maria, Mrs. Rodriguez seethed. "She’s bewitched the old lady somehow. Forced Easton to marry her under false pretenses, and now she’s forcing this child on us!"

Her anger still burning, she commanded, "Lock her in the storeroom. If the old lady finds out…"

Mrs. Miller hesitated, but a sharp look from Mrs. Rodriguez silenced her. "Keep her alive. That’s all. If the child doesn’t make it until Poppy returns, so be it. We’ll say she lost it in a fall."

With a cruel smile, Mrs. Rodriguez dismissed the staff, leaving Maria unconscious on the floor. Mrs. Miller chuckled. "As you wish, madam."

"Water... I need water..."

Maria Rodriguez jolted awake with her body burning up, the thirst dragging her back to consciousness in the worst way. In the moonlight filtering through a small window, she took in her surroundings—a cluttered storage room. It wasn’t just thirst tormenting her; the cold had seeped deep into her bones. She braced a hand against the wall, pushed herself to her feet, and started toward the door. Every step left her breathless.

When she tried the handle, it was locked from the outside—just as she’d suspected. Maria knew screaming for help would only waste what little strength she had left. Silence was her only option. Instead, she focused on finding something—anything—that might take the edge off her thirst.

In a shadowed corner, she found a dusty crate of bottled water. She had no idea how long it had been sitting there. She had just cracked open a bottle when the door swung open.

She expected Mrs. Rodriguez. Instead, she was caught off guard by her sister-in-law, Piper Rodriguez.

Piper sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. "Did you really think Grandma’s protection would keep you safe here? When you plotted to marry my brother, did you ever imagine this day would come?"

Piper had just gotten home from a night out, and she relished the chance to torment Maria—who had defied her mother-in-law and was now paying for it.

"What are you waiting for?" Piper snapped at the servant behind her. "Look at the water in Maria’s hand—it’s expired! We can’t have her drinking that, can we? What if it hurts the baby?"

The servant rushed to snatch the bottle from Maria’s grasp. Maria knew Piper was doing this on purpose, but her strength was already fading. "Piper, please... just one sip."

"Thirsty, are you?" Piper crouched until they were eye level. "But begging requires the right posture."

Maria clenched her fists. "What do you want?"

Piper smiled. "Get down on your knees and beg. Maybe then I’ll let you have a drink."

"Piper, you’re going too far..."

"If you don’t want to, then forget it." Piper gestured to the servant. "Pour it out—all of it!"

"Yes, Miss Piper!"

Faced with a choice between pride and survival, Maria chose survival. If she died, who would take care of her mother?

Swallowing her humiliation and rage, Maria slowly knelt.

Piper burst out laughing. "Maria, do you know what you look like? Worse than a stray dog on the street!"

With a cruel grin, Piper planted her foot on Maria’s back, grabbed the bottle from the servant, and poured it over Maria’s head. "Here—I’ll help you drink!"

Piper emptied the entire crate, not letting Maria have a single drop.

Maria couldn’t stop her. She had nothing left.

"Why are you glaring? It’s for your own good—expired water isn’t safe to drink!" Piper glanced at Maria’s defeated expression and told the servant, "Go to the kitchen and find something Maria can drink."

The servant returned quickly with a tray carrying a small white porcelain bowl. "Miss Piper, it’s late, and the only thing left is the chicken broth you didn’t finish this morning."

"Even leftovers are safer than expired water," Piper said, waving the servant forward. "Hurry up! Can’t you see her lips are cracked?"

The servant obeyed, grabbing Maria by the hair and forcing the spoiled broth down her throat.

Maria choked and coughed. Watching her struggle only seemed to delight Piper more. "Still thirsty? If you want more, I can send the servant back to the kitchen."

Maria lay on the floor, barely responsive. She fixed her eyes on the doorway, refusing to let Piper see her cry. Seeing her like that satisfied Piper. "This quiet little spot is perfect for your rest. Take care."

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Easton Rodriguez stood over Kylie Taylor’s sleeping figure. No matter how hard he tried to focus on her, Maria’s face kept pushing into his thoughts. He remembered how unwell she’d looked.

He frowned and stood, but before he could leave the room, Kylie let out a terrified cry. "Don’t... don’t touch me..."

Easton turned back immediately, taking Kylie’s hand. "Kylie..."

She jolted awake, threw her arms around his waist, and sobbed, "I don’t know why—every time I close my eyes, I see that man from last night who wouldn’t let me go..."

"Don’t worry. I’m here," Easton reassured her, gently patting her back. "I’ve sent someone to find him. We won’t let him get away with it."

"Really?" Kylie lifted her tear-streaked face and stared up at Easton. "You can’t imagine how scared I was, thinking I’d never see you again..."

"It’s all right now." Easton brushed away her tears with his thumb. "I’m not going anywhere. Try to sleep."

"Are you sure you’re not tired?"

"I’m fine."

Kylie managed a small smile. "Meeting you is the greatest luck of my life, Easton."

Easton smiled faintly. "Just sleep."

Once she settled back down and her breathing evened out, Easton took out his phone and texted his assistant.

[Check Maria’s recent medical records.]

Half an hour later, he got a reply.

[Mr. Rodriguez, Ms. Rodriguez only came in for a routine checkup during the day. There are no other medical records.]

Easton’s eyes darkened. "A routine checkup—yet she colluded with hospital staff to trick me into going there! All to make me bond with a baby so she can secure her place as Mrs. Rodriguez!"

He let out a cold laugh. "Maria, you really are delusional!"

Resolved, Easton decided Maria would stay at the manor. With Poppy away, his mother could teach Maria some discipline.

Back at the manor, first thing in the morning, Mrs. Rodriguez received an unexpected call from Poppy announcing her early return. "Housekeeper, check on that wretched girl. See if she’s still alive."

The housekeeper was back within minutes. "She’s alive, but barely breathing."

"I thought I’d have more time to deal with that vile girl..." Mrs. Rodriguez murmured with concern. "I didn’t expect Poppy to return so soon. If she finds out..."

"What are you afraid of, Mom?" Piper yawned as she came down the stairs. "Just get rid of her. As long as she doesn’t die here, Grandma can’t hold us responsible."

Mrs. Rodriguez saw the sense in her daughter’s suggestion. "You’re right. Housekeeper, arrange for her to be taken to the lake house."

"That won’t work. Even if my brother doesn’t care about her, she’s carrying his child. He might feel sympathetic. You’ve seen Easton’s temper—when he’s angry, he doesn’t recognize family."

Mrs. Rodriguez pondered. "Where, then?"

"Send her back to her own home. It’s perfectly normal for a woman to return to her family. If anything happens, it’s on her."

"Agreed. Housekeeper, see to it right away!"

Maria’s family home was in an old city neighborhood, at the end of a narrow alley, surrounded by abandoned houses. The Rodriguez family dumped her at the doorstep like discarded trash.

The knife wounds, the lost child, Mrs. Rodriguez’s beatings, the drenching from Piper—all of it left Maria feverish and clinging to life only for her mother’s sake.

With no one nearby, she dragged herself up using the rusty wrought-iron gate, inching along the wall toward the mouth of the alley.

Eventually, Maria reached the alley’s opening, but after waiting what felt like forever, no one came. She was like a candle burned down to the wick; even the wall couldn’t hold her up.

"Maria, just wait a little longer. Someone will come. Someone will save you..."

As she collapsed, those thoughts were her last, desperate hope.