After the miscarriage, Damian Gifford snapped a picture of me with my hair a mess, looking like hell, and posted it to his Moments.

Caption: “Justice is served.”

I asked him why he’d do that.

He slammed the door on his way out and shouted,

“Because you look pathetic as fuck! The more miserable you are, the happier Seraphina gets!”

I helped him out by tagging Seraphina Jernigan in the comments. He called me immediately to chew me out.

“Don’t you dare play that passive-aggressive ‘magnanimous first wife’ bullshit with me! How many days do you think you’ve got left as Mrs. Gifford?”

Through the receiver, I could hear Seraphina’s soft, understanding little coos of comfort.

Before I could say a word, he hung up—and blocked my number.

A few minutes later, Seraphina posted a high-profile update: a hand-holding photo, both hands wearing Rosenthal & Co. couple rings.

“Three lifetimes of luck to land the heroine’s script in your life.”

Before, I would have gone insane and torn the Gifford household apart.

This time, I just calmly dialed a number belonging to one of the richest families in the country.

“Mom, I’ve had enough of living like a commoner. Will you let me come home again?”

…

When Damian came back, I was curled up under the blanket, shaking uncontrollably, drenched in cold sweat from the pain of the induced labor.

“Penny Mondale! Where the hell is the dinner I told you to make? Don’t tell me you didn’t see your phone!”

He stepped into the bedroom hurling curses.

I turned over, too exhausted to bother answering him.

Damian strode over and yanked the blanket away. Seeing me curled up, he clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Come on, it’s just a stomachache. You’re acting like you’re about to die.”

“The stomach’s over there! Why are you clutching your abdomen? Can’t even fake being pitiful in the right place, you dumbass.”

I forced myself to sit up a little, trying to pull the blanket back from his hands.

“Sorry. I fell asleep. I really didn’t see it.”

Damian didn’t let go. He gave me a once-over, then handed me the bag he was holding in his other hand.

“Bought this for you. Put it on and let me see if it fits.”

I looked down and frowned.

Inside was a sheer, mesh lingerie set.

I’d been married to Damian for five years, and we’d never had anything like this between us.

Then I noticed the tags had already been removed.

I understood immediately. He’d bought the wrong size for Seraphina and couldn’t return it, so he brought it back to fob off on me.

What a joke.

“If you like it so much, you wear it. I don’t have that kink.”

The second I said that, Damian tossed the bag against the wall in a fury.

“Penny Mondale, I’m trying to be nice and ease the tension between us on a day like today, and this is the attitude you’re giving me?!”

A day like today?

I had to hand it to him—he actually remembered that this was the day I’d given him my first time.

Back then, I treated this date more solemnly than our dating anniversary, more sacred than our wedding anniversary.

But now…

All I’d ever remember was that today, with my own hands, I got rid of my own child.

I drew in a few slow, shaky breaths, ready to snap back at him.

Then my gaze caught something glowing faintly under the hem of Damian’s pajama pants.

I thought of the fluorescent condoms I’d seen in his shopping cart and couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out.

Those two really liked to play, huh.

“You insane? What the hell are you laughing at?”

Damian cursed while following my line of sight downward. His face changed instantly.

“That… I was out with my subordinates for dinner, we were playing truth or dare, they made me put it on…”

I gave a noncommittal “mm” and lay back down.

It was Damian whose expression shifted, his eyes taking on a strange look as he leaned over me.

“Penny, you…”

“What?”

“You… you’re not planning to give me anything today?”

My fists tightened beneath the blanket. The fury that surged up nearly tore itself out of my throat.

Not just today. In the past, on every single day that mattered to me, I would buy Damian a gift.

Until I found those gifts in the trash cans at his company, or tossed into the nanny’s room at Gifford Manor.

Even our wedding anniversary not long ago—I saved two months’ salary to buy him a sports watch.

In the end, it wound up strapped around Seraphina’s schnauzer’s right leg.

From that moment on, I finally understood: in his heart, I wasn’t even worth as much as Seraphina’s dog.

So why the hell should I keep throwing myself at his cold, ungrateful ass?

“True. You’re not some teenager or girl in her early twenties anymore. You don’t take this day as seriously as you used to.”

As Damian spoke, the way he looked at me suddenly turned a little wistful, a little complicated, as if something had just come back to him.

After a long pause, he cleared his throat and tried to sound casual.

“Penny, when you told me back then that you were a virgin… you were lying, weren’t you?”

The words exploded in my ears like thunder. I stared at Damian in disbelief.

I’d met him when I was working in a bar to pay my tuition.

When he confessed his feelings, he said he’d fallen for the way I fought to climb upward even while stuck in the mud.

And now that same part of my past had become the reason he doubted my private life.

I was so furious my whole body started to shake; my eyes burned red.

“Damian, what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

Seeing my reaction, Damian’s gaze flickered. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to explain.

But the next second, his phone rang—it was Seraphina’s custom ringtone.

“What’s wrong? Your claustrophobia again? Don’t cry, don’t cry, it kills me when you cry!”

“I’ll be right there! Ten minutes—no, five!”

He rushed off to change his shoes.

I glanced at the notification on my own phone, then braced myself and got out of bed, stepping out of the bedroom.

When Damian saw me come out, he snapped instantly, anger flaring in his eyes.

“I thought you finally changed, but you’re just gonna follow me out again? Penny, your paranoia is so bad you should get your damn brain checked!”

I ignored him, walked straight past that raging glare, opened the front door, took the food delivery from outside, and even smiled at the delivery guy as I thanked him.

Damian’s face froze.

“You’ve got perfectly good food and you still eat this takeout crap all day!”

“I bet it’s that processed shit that ruined your uterus! Five years and you can’t lay a single egg!”

With that parting shot, he stormed out and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

I sat calmly at the dining table, eating a hotdog while scrolling through the list of lawyers my friends had recommended.

When I opened my social feed, a photo suddenly jumped out at me—it was posted by my mother-in-law, Loretta.

In the photo, she, Damian, and Seraphina were pressed close together, smiling.

And on Damian’s ring finger, he wasn’t wearing his wedding band, but a matching couple’s ring with Seraphina.

The caption read: “A photo of our little family of three (smile)”

A family of three.

Of course. Seraphina, the rich heiress, was the ideal, well-matched daughter-in-law in Loretta’s eyes.

Ever since Seraphina came back to the country, Loretta had done everything she could to push her and Damian to rekindle their old romance—

Even though by then he’d already married me, the poor nobody.

At first, Damian would still say a few words in my defense, but the longer he spent reunited with Seraphina, the more he grew to despise me.

He thought I was vulgar. He looked down on my education. He said I had no polish, no depth, no class.

To this day, all that’s left between Damian and me is a marriage certificate. Nothing else.

The story of a rich young master saving an ugly duckling was always just a fairy tale.

When Damian came back, it was almost midnight.

He pulled a piece of cake out of a paper bag. There were clearly marks where candles had been stuck in.

“Today’s kind of an anniversary, if you think about it,” he said. “Here, I bought you a piece of cake.”

I let out a mocking laugh. In his heart, whose anniversary was he really celebrating?

Half an hour earlier, Seraphina had posted a photo of a cake too.

Matcha flavor. A whole one, covered in candles.

“Reunion Day 999 – Anniversary.”

Then I looked at the slice Damian held in front of me. The top layer of matcha powder was completely gone.

All that was left was a faint sheen, like something had been licked off.

My stomach lurched. I gagged, snatched the cake from his hand, and tossed it straight into the trash.

Damian’s face changed on the spot.

“Penny, I’ve been giving you face, and you keep pushing it, huh? You’ve been acting like a fucking brat all day!

“Think about who you are and who I am. You think you’d be sleeping in a house this big if it weren’t for me?

“You’d better take a good hard look at your attitude. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee you’ll be Mrs. Gifford much longer.”

After delivering his little speech, he yanked a suitcase out of the closet, threw a few pieces of clothing in with a clatter, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Damian didn’t come back for an entire week. He didn’t call, didn’t text. Nothing.

Before, I would have been terrified, blowing up his phone with calls and messages.

This time, I just went on with my work and my life, calm as ever.

Not having to get up at five to make breakfast, not spending weekends doing deep cleanings—turns out life is pretty damn easy without all that.

On Friday, while I was at work, Damian suddenly called.

The phone rang once, then he hung up.

I figured he’d dialed the wrong number and ignored it.

Half an hour later, he called again.

“You didn’t see my call?”

“I did. What is it? I’m busy.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end. Damian took a few deep breaths, like he was trying to tamp down his temper.

“Tomorrow’s my mom’s birthday. We’re holding a banquet at the Kensington Grand Hotel. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“I have to go too?”

“If you don’t go, who will? Aren’t you the Gifford daughter-in-law?” he snapped, then hung up.

I opened Moments again.

Surprisingly, Loretta had deleted that “family of three” photo.

The next morning, Damian’s car was already downstairs, horn blaring nonstop.

When I came down, his gaze landed on my old evening dress and bare face, and the corners of his mouth instantly drooped.

Seraphina, sitting in the passenger seat with perfect makeup, rolled down the window and gave me a once-over before letting out a snort of laughter.

“Damian, women need to be pampered. Don’t bully Penny.”

“Doesn’t matter how much you pamper a weed, it’s never going to turn into a flower,” Damian said with an eye roll.

I said nothing, just slipped into the back seat and lowered my head, scrolling through my phone.

Damian, oddly enough, kept glancing back at me a few times.

When we got to the hotel, a few of the Gifford family’s servants saw us and hurried over to help with the things in the car.

“Young Master, Young Madam, Old Madam’s been waiting for you,” one of them said.

A new servant I didn’t recognize stepped in between me and Damian and Seraphina, eagerly leading the two of them forward.

The other servants exchanged awkward looks.

“Frank, she’s actually the—”

Before he could finish, Loretta was already walking over with a warm smile.

“Godmother, happy birthday~ I bought you a gorgeous imperial green necklace. It’ll look amazing on you~” Seraphina cooed, leaning in sweetly.

“Good girl, Seraphina. We’re family; you don’t need to bring gifts. You’re just too thoughtful!”