"If it bothers you, I'll take it off right now," Betty said, her red, tearful eyes looking up at me. Her trembling hands reached behind her back to unzip the wedding dress.

Worried she might accidentally damage the dress my mother had painstakingly created, I stepped forward.

"I'll help you," I said calmly.

Betty glanced at me as I moved behind her, her eyes darting briefly before she suddenly stumbled forward.

In front of her was a small platform, about 50 to 60 centimeters high, temporarily set up for taking photos. She screamed as she fell.

I instinctively reached out to catch her but couldn’t.

When Betty hit the ground, the jade necklace around her neck snapped, scattering fragments everywhere.

I immediately knelt to pick up the broken pieces, the sharp edges piercing my cold, swollen fingers. Blood dripped from my hands, yet I felt no physical pain—only the sharp ache in my heart.

Clyde’s eyes widened when he saw my bloodied hands. He reached out to pull me up, but I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze.

He hesitated, his lips parting as though to speak, but Betty’s voice interrupted.

"Clyde, my stomach hurts so much... I don’t know if the baby can be saved," she whimpered, her face pale with pain.

"That’s your child... the child I tried so hard to conceive for you. Please help me!"

Her words struck like a blade to my chest. Betty was pregnant with Clyde’s child. Judging by her flat stomach, she couldn’t have been pregnant for more than three months—months that coincided with the happiest time of my life, when Clyde had agreed to marry me and we traveled the world together.

Was it possible that during our travels, he had brought Betty along?

Clyde scooped Betty into his arms as if she were a fragile doll. His voice softened as he murmured, "Betty, how did you fall? Don’t be afraid—I’ll take you to the hospital right now."

Betty clung to Clyde’s arm, her tearful eyes briefly meeting mine before darting away in feigned guilt. She buried her face in Clyde’s chest.

Clyde’s gaze turned icy as he looked at me, now holding Betty protectively. His voice was sharp and accusing.

"Angela, it’s just a set of jade jewelry. Did you really have to push Betty over it?"

"If you have any grievances, direct them to me. Betty and the baby in her womb are innocent."

"If anything happens to her, I swear you’ll regret it."

I silently shook my head, signaling that I hadn’t pushed Betty, but the lump in my throat made it impossible to speak. My heart felt like it was shattering into pieces.

Clyde’s eyes bore into mine, filled with fury. "I saw it with my own eyes, Angela. How could I be wrong? You went behind Betty, and she fell."

Betty tugged on Clyde’s sleeve, her voice trembling. "Clyde, let it go. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have worn Angela’s wedding dress or her jade jewelry. I shouldn’t have touched things that don’t belong to me."

"Even if I’ve never experienced luxury before, I can tell this wedding dress must be worth millions, and the jade jewelry tens of millions. Someone like me has no right to touch such extravagant things."

Clyde held Betty even tighter, his voice softening. "My dear Betty, you’ll have everything in the future. With me by your side, you don’t need to worry about anything."

He turned back to glare at me, his tone biting. "I brought her into this world. I won’t let anyone bully her just because they think their wealth gives them the right."

After Clyde finished speaking, he carried Betty out of the room.

The door was left ajar, and I overheard him commanding ten snowplows to clear the road. He even instructed his friends to drive their sports cars along the path to smooth it out.

In less than ten minutes, Clyde orchestrated a route for Betty to safely escape the nearly one-meter-thick snow.

Meanwhile, I had been stranded in the freezing cold for twelve hours, begging for his help. But he ignored me, afraid I would cling to him and disrupt his life.

Before leaving, Clyde ordered his bodyguard to take me to the hospital.

I was dragged into the car, my hands still bloody.

Inside the spacious vehicle, Clyde called the family doctor to treat my wounds. Betty was lying in the back seat, and as he looked at me, his expression softened.

For a fleeting moment, I was reminded of the time when he had agreed to marry me—his gaze then had been tender and full of affection.

After my wounds were dressed, Clyde gently took my hand and spoke in a low voice.

"Angela, I need you to keep Betty's pregnancy a secret. If the elders find out, she’ll be exiled from the capital again, just like before."

My heart sank instantly. His sudden gentleness wasn’t for me—it was for Betty.

Clyde’s eyes turned cold again as he sat closer, trying to pull me into his arms.

But the thought of Betty’s perfume and tears lingering on him made my stomach churn. I instinctively pushed him away and shifted to the farthest corner of the seat.

He stared at me with a mix of confusion and irritation. After all, in the past, if he’d so much as touched my hand, I would’ve been overjoyed for days.

Suppressing his temper, Clyde spoke again, his tone firm and matter-of-fact.

"After Betty gives birth, the child will be raised as a York. I’ll be the father, and you’ll be the mother. To reassure Betty, I’ll transfer all my property to her so she’ll never have to worry again."

"But there’s one condition. Before we gain custody of her child, we must both undergo sterilization. It’s the only way Betty will trust that we’ll truly care for the baby. After the wedding, we’ll proceed with the operation."

He wasn’t asking for my opinion—he was informing me of his plan, as though it was already decided.

Clyde seemed confident I would agree. Perhaps he thought my love for him was so deep that I’d accept anything.

I stared at him, his words echoing in my mind. He wanted to give all his assets to Betty, use my wealth to support her child, and rob me of the chance to have children of my own—all while expecting me to comply without question.

It became clear that Clyde’s supposed affection for me had always been an act for Betty’s sake. Even our marriage was likely orchestrated to provide legitimacy for her child.

But I needed him to admit it. I wanted him to say it outright. If he did, it would be like handing me the knife I needed to sever all ties with him.

I gazed into his eyes, searching for a hint of truth, and asked, "Clyde, so you married me because of Betty and her baby? In these ten years, did you ever love me? Were you ever moved by me, even a little?"

Clyde didn’t respond immediately. He sat in silence, as though seriously contemplating my question.

Then, from the back seat, Betty—eyes closed, voice faint as if in a dream—murmured, "Clyde, don’t worry. Once I give birth, I’ll disappear from your world forever."

Her words seemed to pierce him. Clyde’s attention shifted entirely to Betty, his gaze filled with concern and tenderness.

When he finally turned back to me, his voice was measured but distant.

"It’s been ten years, Angela. It’s not like there were no feelings at all. But what we have feels more like family. Marrying you gives me peace of mind."

"Being with Betty feels like love," Clyde said.

I stared at him in silence, not uttering a word. If that’s the case, I decided, let them have their wedding.

After Betty was sent to the emergency room, the doctor confirmed she was fine. I took one last look at Clyde, turned away, and asked the driver to take me back to the villa.

I planned to book a hotel, wait for my flight connection, and leave Brooklyn for good.

Clyde followed me out, calling after me.

"Angela, I’ve transferred the money for the wedding dress to your account. Go buy yourself a new one."

"I’ll be with Betty for the next few days, but don’t worry. I’ll be there for the wedding and won’t let you down. And don’t forget the vasectomy."

I didn’t respond and left without looking back. I waited until the wedding day to act.

Clyde bombarded me with frantic messages.

I finally replied with a single text:

[I wish you and Betty a happy marriage. I will not marry you.]