That finally made him stop.

He turned slowly, disbelief written all over his face as he stared at me. “What did you just say?”

“I’m pregnant,” I said again, my voice trembling but steady enough to carry. “The doctor told me it’s practically a miracle I conceived at all. It’s a high‑risk pregnancy… and it’s twins, Vincent. If you take my blood, you could kill them. Our children.”

For a brief second, everything went quiet.

Then he laughed.

It was a harsh, ugly sound that cut straight through me. “You really expect me to buy that?” His lips curled in contempt. “You’re disgusting enough to fake a pregnancy just to avoid helping your own sister?”

“I’m telling the truth,” I whispered.

“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You’ve always been a liar, Althea. You’ll give the blood. End of story.”

Something inside me finally shattered. “I’m not killing my babies for her!”

His face darkened, fury rolling off him like a storm. “Then I’ll burn that vineyard your parents spent their lives building. Row by row. I’ll make you stand there and watch while I rip out every vine, crush the soil until nothing ever grows again. No wine. No barrels. No trace that they ever existed.”

My blood went cold.

That vineyard wasn’t just land—it was my parents’ legacy. Decades of work since the eighties, every vine planted by their hands. I grew up running between those rows, breathing in the sweetness of harvest season. It was our family’s heart, and he knew exactly how to use it against me.

“Y-you wouldn’t,” I stammered.

Vincent stepped closer, invading my space until I could feel his breath against my skin. His eyes were sharp, merciless. “Test me.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving. This was the man I once loved. The man who once swore he’d protect me. Now he was the one I needed protection from.

My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking. The twins. My babies. Tears slid down my face, silent and helpless.

When he grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, I didn’t resist. Fighting him had never ended well. I followed quietly, swallowing the sobs clawing at my throat.

He took me straight into the VIP hospital room he’d arranged for Natalia. She lay in the bed, pale and frail, IV lines running into her arm, eyes rimmed red. She let out weak little whimpers, like she was barely holding on.

Vincent rushed to her side. “I’m here, Daph,” he murmured, brushing her hair back gently—so tender, so different from how he treated me. “You’re going to be okay. I brought her.”

Her lips quivered. “Everything hurts, Vincent… I feel so bad.”

I stood frozen, watching my husband cradle my sister like she was made of glass. Then Natalia cracked one eye open and looked at me.

She smiled.

No—she smirked. Just for a split second before closing her eyes again.

Bitch.

Anger churned violently in my gut.

I stepped forward to speak, but Vincent turned so fast I barely had time to react. His hand clamped around my wrist, grip iron‑hard. One look from him told me exactly what would happen if I opened my mouth.

The door swung open, and a doctor entered, eyes flicking between us.

“She’s deteriorating,” Vincent said flatly, not even glancing at me. “Start the transfusion immediately.”

“She’s stable enough to—” the doctor began, but Natalia whimpered again.

“We’re not waiting,” Vincent cut in. “The donor’s right here.”

The doctor’s gaze settled on me. He nodded once and instructed the nurses to prepare.

My body went rigid when I saw the needle. Cold sweat broke across my skin. I’d always been terrified of needles, and Vincent knew it. Years ago, he used to hold my hand, murmur reassurances, distract me until it was over.

Now, he didn’t even look at me.

At Natalia’s next whimper, he abandoned me entirely and rushed back to her side.

I turned my head away as the doctor approached. In my mind, I begged anyone—God, fate, even the devil—to make this stop.

The needle hovered inches from my arm when the door slammed open.

“Stop!”

Another doctor rushed in, clutching a folder, breathless. “You can’t proceed.”

The room fell silent.

“Mrs. Ramirez is pregnant!” he announced loudly.

The needle was lowered at once.

Vincent blinked, his face twitching. “That’s impossible. She can’t—”

The doctor stepped forward and shoved the file into his hands. “She was here this morning for an abortion consult and cancelled it. She’s carrying twins. High‑risk.”

Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled. Finally. Proof. Someone believed me.

But before I could fully breathe, Vincent lifted his head.

His voice was cold as ice. “I don’t give a fuck. Take her blood.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, jaw tight.

The room went dead quiet except for the steady beeping of machines.

One of the nurses hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Mr. Ramirez, your wife cannot donate blood. She’s pregnant—with twins—and it’s a high‑risk pregnancy. Proceeding could cost both babies.”

Vincent didn’t even blink. He stepped forward, voice sharp and commanding. “I heard you. Do it anyway.”

The doctor looked between us, shaken. “Sir, this could endanger her life as well. We can’t—”

“You can,” Vincent snapped. “I’m paying you enough to do exactly what I say.”

My chest tightened painfully. This was my husband. The man I once trusted with my life.

Vincent’s gaze swept the room. “I am Vincent Ramirez. Every one of you works here because I allow it. Defy me—and you’ll regret it.”

The nurses went rigid. The doctor dropped his gaze to the floor. No one in that room wanted to be the one who challenged him.

One of the nurses finally turned toward me, her voice hesitant, almost remorseful. “Mrs. Ramirez… we need your permission to proceed.”

I looked straight at Vincent, tears slipping down my face one after another. “You’ve always said you wanted a child. And now that I’m carrying your twins, you’re willing to sacrifice them for Natalia and her fake illness?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “You were planning to get rid of them anyway.”

I shook my head slowly. “You just heard that I canceled the procedure.”

Vincent sighed like I was being unreasonable. “Althea, your pregnancy is unstable. The odds aren’t good. Natalia’s situation is safer. Her baby actually has a chance.”

My stomach sank. “So you’re choosing to kill mine for hers.”

He stepped closer, his tone softening as if that could justify it. “It’s not like that. Natalia’s condition is worsening. Yours…” He shrugged. “You might not even make it another month.”

I couldn’t find my voice. I could only stare at him and finally understand the truth—this wasn’t about saving a life. It was about choosing a woman. And he had never chosen me.

“You’ve already decided,” I whispered.

From the bed, Natalia let out a small, rehearsed cough. Vincent’s attention snapped to her immediately, as if I’d vanished from the room.

The nurse’s hand brushed my arm, gentle, sympathetic. “Mrs. Ramirez… please.”

Vincent never once looked back.

I swallowed, my throat burning. “Go ahead.”

The needle pierced my skin. I watched my blood flow into the tubing, my gaze fixed on the floor as I fought back sobs. My chest tightened, dizziness crashing over me in waves.

The nurse glanced at the monitor and gasped. “Her vitals are dropping!”

“Stop the transfusion,” the doctor ordered sharply.

Vincent shoved him aside. “Don’t you dare stop. Natalia needs it.”

“She’s stable,” the nurse argued.

“You’re blind if you think she’s fine,” Vincent barked.

Pain ripped through me. My vision swam, metallic taste filling my mouth. My body shook uncontrollably.

Somewhere through the haze, Percival crossed my mind—his voice, the way he’d said finally, as though he’d always known this moment would come. I’d asked him to wait. I’d never said yes.

The staff argued with Vincent, their voices overlapping. He never once looked at me. His eyes were only on Natalia.

With the last of my strength, I whispered, barely audible, “Please… save my babies.”

Then everything faded to black.

---

When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn’t.

My entire body screamed in pain, like I’d been thrown down stairs and crushed for good measure. There was an awful emptiness inside me, a hollow ache that felt like something essential had been ripped away.

“Oh, Mrs. Ramirez. You’re awake,” a female doctor said softly from beside my bed. “We were afraid we might lose you.”

My throat felt raw. My limbs were heavy, sore, bruised in places I didn’t even know could bruise. The harsh hospital lights burned my eyes as I blinked, confused for a brief second, hoping—desperately—that it had all been a nightmare.

Then it came rushing back.

Vincent. Natalia. The transfusion. The agony. The fear.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned toward the doctor. Her expression was too careful. Too gentle. I already knew.

“My babies…” My voice broke. “Please… tell me they’re alive.”

She hesitated.

That pause shattered me more than any words could have.

Her eyes softened as she shook her head. “We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. The twins didn’t survive.”

The world stopped.

Then I broke apart.

I cried until my lungs burned, until my body shook violently, until pain ripped through my stitches and my vision blurred with tears. I mourned the two tiny lives I never got to hold, the soft kicks I’d never feel, the future Vincent had destroyed without hesitation.

If I had known it would end like this, maybe I wouldn’t have let myself love them. Maybe I would have ended it earlier—before hope took root.

When my sobs finally slowed, I wiped my face with trembling hands. My thoughts drifted back to Percival. To his offer. To his certainty.

“W-what day is it?” I asked weakly.

“It’s Thursday,” the doctor replied gently. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days.

Time was slipping away.

“Please… I need my phone.”

“It’s in the drawer beside you.”

I grabbed it, my fingers shaking as I typed out the message.

I accept your offer. Meet me at the airport.

The reply came almost instantly.

Finally. I was starting to think you’d changed your mind, little grapes.

I typed back without hesitation.

Never.

The doctor asked if I needed anything else. I forced a smile, bitter and metallic on my lips. “Has anyone come to see me?”

“I’m sorry… no one has,” she replied softly.

A chill settled into my chest then—not the kind that makes your skin crawl, but the kind that sinks deep into your bones, leaving a hollow, frozen ache.

When she left, I stared at the blank wall for what felt like hours. Eventually, I shoved the blanket off me. Every movement sent jagged waves of pain through my body, but I ignored it.

“Mrs. Ramirez?” a nurse called as she entered. “You shouldn’t be up and moving. You lost a lot of blood. Your stitches—”

“I’m leaving,” I said, voice flat, cutting her off. “I don’t care that I’m still bleeding. I’m not staying another second.”

She tried to reason with me, worry etched across her face. “You’re not stable enough—”

“I said I’m leaving. Just bring me whatever I need to sign,” I snapped.

She stared at me for a long moment, hesitating, then retreated. A few minutes later, she returned with the discharge papers.

Every step toward the door was agony. My legs trembled, my back screamed, but I forced myself forward.

Halfway down the hall, I saw them. Vincent and Natalia, my twin sister, sitting side by side in another room. Laughing. Smiling. As if nothing had happened. As if my babies had never existed.

I turned away before they could notice me.

They had taken everything from me once. I wasn’t letting them do it again.

This time, I had Percival. The man who concealed an empire behind a polite smile. The man whose name was spoken only in hushed tones, the man who could reduce the entire Ramirez dynasty to ashes without lifting a finger.

I was done being their victim.

Vincent was feeding Natalia soup, that fake gentle smile plastered on his face, the same smile he never bothered to give me. Natalia sat there, fragile-looking but smug, soaking in every bit of attention like she was royalty.

Once, seeing them like this would have shattered me. Now, I felt nothing. I turned to slip past them, but, as usual, luck had other plans.

“Althea?” His voice cut through me. I stiffened, jaw tightening.

I turned slowly, face calm, hiding the storm inside. When our eyes met, I glimpsed a flicker in him—guilt, maybe, like he suddenly remembered I even existed.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” he stammered, pushing himself upright from the chair beside Natalia. “How are you feeling?”

I didn’t answer. My silence said everything I needed it to.

Vincent’s shoulders slumped. “Your sacrifice… it wasn’t in vain,” he murmured, eyes locking on mine as if trying to force me to believe him. “Natalia’s fine. Her baby is healthy. You saved them both.”

I laughed—sharp, bitter, humorless. He flinched.

Natalia placed her hand gently on her flat stomach, her sweetness feigned. “Vincent hasn’t left me alone for a second. He’s been so good to me.”

I refused to stay and watch their sick charade. I turned to leave, but Vincent sprang to his feet, reaching for me.

“Wait, Althea. Just wait.”

I froze—not because I wanted to, but because I knew how ridiculous it sounded to even consider listening.

“I’m throwing a party tonight,” he blurted. “To celebrate your recovery and Natalia coming home safe. It’s been… difficult. My father will be there. He really wants to see you.”

I said nothing.

He stepped closer, softer now, as if sincerity could make a difference. “Let me drive you home. We’re all going the same way.”

“I’m not going home,” I said flatly. “I’m going to my parents’ vineyard.”

Percival had promised to watch over it once I accepted his offer. It was the only piece of my parents left. Something Vincent could never touch.

“The vineyard? Why?” Vincent blinked, confused.

I tilted my head, keeping my expression icy. “I have business there. None of your concern.”

Natalia’s eyes brightened suddenly, her fake charm on full display. “Perfect timing. I was planning to visit too. After all, it is our parents’ vineyard.”

That caught me off guard. She had always acted like it didn’t matter.

Vincent nodded quickly. “Then we’ll come with you.”

I stared at him, surprised at how eagerly he agreed. The same man who once called the vineyard a waste, a burden, now jumped at the chance to go because Natalia mentioned it.

I allowed a quiet sneer. “Fine. You can come. But there’s one thing I need from you first.”

Vincent straightened, hopeful. “Anything.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the papers I’d held since he brought Natalia home. Divorce papers.

He took them, brow furrowed. “What’s this?”

“My discharge form,” I said flatly, not meeting his gaze.

He hesitated—always so careful when signing—but glanced at Natalia. She fluttered her lashes, smiled sweetly, and suddenly he forgot all caution.

“I’m tired, Vincent,” she purred. “Let’s go home quickly.”

He nodded, barely glancing at the papers before signing.

The moment his pen lifted, a small, victorious smirk spread across my lips.

“Thank you,” I said, slipping the documents back into my bag. “Now I’m free from you.”