After the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, the first thing Eliza Lockett did was ask her lawyer to draft a divorce agreement.

"Ms. Lockett, once both parties sign, the marriage will automatically dissolve after the 30-day cooling-off period."

Eliza's expression did not change. "Can I sign his name for him?"

The lawyer hesitated, then quickly shook his head. "No. He must appear in person."

"He agrees to the divorce," she said evenly. "He's just busy with work and can't come. If you don't believe me, I'll call him now and let you hear it yourself."

She took out her phone and dialed Alban Sidham.

"Alban, there's something I need to talk to you about—"

He cut her off before she could finish. His voice was cold and edged with impatience. "Didn't I tell you to handle your own affairs? I don't have time for your trivial matters."

A soft, teasing voice came through the line. "Al, you're peeling them too fast. I can't eat that much…"

A sharp click followed. The call ended.

Eliza Lockett smiled at the lawyer as if she had just proved her point. "See?"

The lawyer's brow furrowed. He hesitated, then finally nodded.

After she signed, a weight lifted from Eliza's chest so completely it almost felt unreal.

She went home in a light mood. She took a framed photo from her collection and wiped the glass with slow, careful strokes.

A maid passed and spotted her at it again. She drifted over to another maid, and the two whispered as if the room itself might keep their secrets.

"Mrs. Sidham really is crazy about Mr. Sidham. She looks at his photo a dozen times a day and polishes that frame like it's a ritual."

"What's the point of loving him? He doesn't like her. He's always ice-cold."

"Exactly. When Miss Buckley was overseas, he flew out to see her all the time. Now that she's back, he's with her every day. He barely even comes home."

Pity colored their voices, the kind reserved for someone clinging to a losing bet.

Eliza did not take any of it personally.

The man in that photograph was not Alban Sidham. The man she loved had never been him.

She had married Alban for one reason: his face. It was the same as Kyran Sidham's. A mirror image.

Alban and Kyran were identical twins.

Eliza fell in love with Kyran in college. They spoke about the future as if it were certain. After graduation, he would take her to meet his family. Then they would marry.

He died before any of it could happen.

It was an accident. A sudden phone call slammed a door on the rest of her life. He left no last words, no farewell, nothing she could hold except the hollow space where he had been.

She had been deeply loved once. That was the problem. After Kyran, she knew she would never love anyone the same way again. She did not try to pretend otherwise.

Thus, she chose something colder. Something she could control.

She wanted a child who looked like him. A small, living proof that he had existed, someone to keep her company in the years ahead.

Kyran's twin brother was the only person in the world who could give her that.

After that, she began to draw closer to Alban. For him, she did things she would once have called insane.

At the time, Alban's secret crush, Davina Buckley, was abroad. His family's pressure to marry had become a constant irritation, and Eliza's proposal offered a clean exit.

He agreed, with terms. She could have anything she wanted from him—status, money, a name on paper. But he would never love her.

It was an ugly condition to state aloud. She accepted it without hesitation.

Alban took that as proof she loved him too much to think clearly. He never bothered to look for another reason.

On their wedding day, Davina called with a cold. Alban did not show up. He left Eliza standing alone before the guests, humiliated under the lights, while he ran to be where he truly wanted to be.

After the wedding, it only worsened. He flew overseas constantly to see Davina. Sometimes, he even made Eliza buy the tickets.

Their bedroom displayed photos of Davina. His study held things set aside for Davina. Even the garden behind the villa was planted with Davina's favorite flowers.

One story after another turned Eliza into a joke among their circle. She never argued. She never explained. She simply played her role as his wife.

The only thing about which she remained stubborn was this: whenever Alban was home, she made sure they slept together.

Alban thought he understood why. He believed she was desperate for him, just as he was desperate for Davina.

He loved Davina deeply, in a way that made him cautious rather than brave. He prized her so much he feared losing her, and because of that fear, he never confessed.

In the end, Davina left the country with someone else.

Eliza never corrected Alban's assumptions. There was no point.

Now she was pregnant. She had what she came for, and that meant it was time to leave.

Alban arrived at the house early the next morning. He barely glanced at Eliza before getting straight to the point. "Your chicken soup is good, right?"

She had not even opened her mouth when he continued, impatience sharpening his tone, "Vina wants some. Make it now and come with me to deliver it."

Eliza lifted her gaze, ready to refuse. Her eyes fell on the watch at his wrist, and she reconsidered. "Fine. I'll make it the way she likes it. But I want your watch."

Alban did not hesitate. He removed it and set it on the table in front of her. "Take it."

This was nothing new. He often sent her on errands for Davina. Sometimes, she booked flights so he could visit her. Sometimes, she stood in line for hours to buy the snacks Davina liked. Other times, he had her choose gifts on his behalf.

Eliza never refused. She only asked for payment. She never asked for money. Instead, she chose items he had used for years: a fountain pen, a watch, sometimes a book. None of them held much monetary value. They were simply familiar objects he kept close.

Alban watched her tuck the watch away as if it were a treasure. At last, he asked, "Do you really love me that much? Do you want to keep everything I've ever touched?"

Eliza paused. She knew he had misunderstood. Everything she asked for had once belonged to Kyran.

After Kyran died, Alban gathered his brother's belongings. He carried some of them out of habit, perhaps out of remembrance. Eliza collected them for the same reason. She wanted something to remember him by.

She offered no explanation. She simply smiled.

"Yes," she said softly. "I really love you…"

'Your brother,' she continued inwardly.

Something in her eyes unsettled Alban.

A flicker of unease crossed his mind. Images surfaced of everything she had done for him over the years. The thought unsettled him. His brow tightened before he forced himself back to composure.

His expression cooled. "Hurry up and make the soup."

Once she finished, they left for the hospital together.

In the car, Alban recalled her call from the day before. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about yesterday?"

Eliza cradled the thermos in her lap and looked out the window. "Nothing important. I already handled it."

He gave a brief acknowledgement. "Vina's been hospitalized with a cold. I'll be taking care of her. Don't bother me with unnecessary things."

Eliza nodded obediently. No trace of displeasure crossed her face.

Alban studied her profile. Over the years, she had never pushed back against anything he asked. Not once.

Did she really love him that much? Enough to watch him treat another woman this way and remain calm?

…

They entered Davina's room together.

Davina froze at the sight of Eliza. "I was just joking yesterday. I didn't think you'd actually bring her here!"

Eliza set the thermos down and poured the soup into a bowl. Her voice remained even. "When you mention something, he takes it seriously."

Alban stiffened at her words. Instead of satisfaction, an inexplicable discomfort settled in his chest.

He stood, took the bowl from her hands, and said flatly, "You can head back. I've got this."

Eliza did not respond. She picked up her bag and turned toward the door. As she closed it, she caught a final glimpse of Alban holding the bowl and feeding Davina with careful attention.

"Slow down," he murmured. "It's hot. I also bought you the cakes you like."

Davina's eyes lit up. "They're three blocks away! You actually went to get them?"

Eliza shut the door behind her and did not look back.

The days that followed unfolded exactly as Alban had promised. He barely left the hospital, staying at Davina's side around the clock.

When urgent matters arose at the company, his assistant delivered a laptop and documents directly to her room and arranged them before him so he could work without stepping away.

If Davina so much as mentioned craving a particular fruit, Alban would send a private jet overseas to procure it. The fruit would return the same day, washed, sliced, and set neatly on her table.

To coax her into eating more, he rewarded her bite by bite, placing a gold bar beside her plate for every mouthful she swallowed.

The story dominated headlines for days.

Eliza saw every report. She only offered a distant smile, as though the spectacle had nothing to do with her.

…

On the day Jessleton University celebrated its centennial anniversary, Eliza attended as an invited alumna, recognized as one of its outstanding graduates.

After signing in at the gate, she immediately spotted a familiar pair in the crowd. They stood out too clearly to miss. Alban was there, with Davina at his side.

They had already seen her. Avoiding them was impossible, so Eliza walked over.

Davina greeted her first, her tone bright and friendly. "Ms. Lockett, you graduated from Jessleton University too?"

Eliza nodded.

Alban studied her with a slight frown. "Which year?"

"Class of '17."

Davina's eyes widened. "Then you were in the same year as Al's brother."

She leaned closer, curiosity plain on her face. "Ms. Lockett, did you know his brother? I heard Ky had a girlfriend back then, someone he absolutely adored. He even planned to bring her home to meet the family. It's just a shame that…"

Her voice trailed off. Realizing she had crossed a line, Davina quickly apologized to Alban.

Kyran's death remained a forbidden subject in the Sidham family. They had sealed that wound for years and allowed no one to touch it.

Eliza felt her body tremble. Beneath her sleeve, her fingers curled into her palm until her nails bit into her skin. Her chest tightened, as if unseen hands were pressing the air from her lungs.

Alban's expression darkened as well. Because it was Davina who brought it up, he swallowed his irritation and shifted the subject. He said they had walked enough and should go eat.

The three of them went to a restaurant. When they ordered, every dish catered to Davina's preferences.

Throughout the meal, Alban attended to her with meticulous care. He cut her steak and removed every bone from the fish before placing it neatly before her.

Halfway through, Eliza excused herself to the restroom. As she approached the stalls, she heard Davina inside, speaking on the phone.

Eliza had no interest in listening. She was about to knock as a courtesy when she heard Alban's name.

"Of course. If I didn't do it this way, how would Al stay completely devoted to me?

"You mean his wife? What kind of wife is she? The way Al treats her, everyone in our circle can see it.

"Don't worry. I know my limits. I'm much better at playing hard to get than you are. As long as I pretend not to notice his feelings, we can keep this ambiguous. That way his feelings will only deepen, until he can't live without me.

"The harder something is to get, the more precious it becomes. You understand, right?"

'So that's how Davina sees it.' Eliza smiled faintly. 'The innocent crush everyone believes in is nothing of the sort.'

The door opened. Davina stepped out and froze when she saw Eliza at the sink, adjusting her clothes.

Her expression shifted at once. She bit her lip. "How long have you been here? How much did you hear?"

Eliza remained silent.

Davina hurried on. "You'd better not tell Al anything. He won't believe you."

Watching her flustered panic, Eliza felt only boredom. She dried her hands and turned to leave.

Davina suddenly grabbed her wrist from behind. Eliza had no time to react.

In the next instant, Davina hurled herself into the wall, then collapsed to the floor in tears.

The noise drew Alban immediately. He arrived to find Davina on the ground, tears streaking her face, her forehead already red and swelling.

Eliza stood nearby, looking down at her with a cold expression.

Alban rushed forward and gathered Davina into his arms. Then his sharp gaze cut toward Eliza. "Did you push her?"

Before Eliza could answer, Davina cried out, "Al, my head hurts so much. Ms. Lockett seems to really hate me."

At the sight of her injury, Alban's heart tightened. He lifted Davina and strode away.

Eliza turned to leave, but he shoved her aside with force. She stood near the stairs. Her foot slipped. Her body pitched forward and tumbled down, step after step.

The world spun. Pain tore through her as if her bones were splintering.

She forced herself upright and braced one hand against the floor. When she lifted it, her palm was slick with blood.

Panic surged at the thought of the child inside her. Her voice shook as she cried out, "Alban, don't go. Call an ambulance. Please. Call 911."

The man at the top of the stairs looked down at her. His eyes were cold, stripped of mercy. "You dared lay a hand on Vina. This is your punishment."

He turned and walked away, Davina still in his arms.

As his figure disappeared, Eliza felt her heart split open. She could endure any injury herself. Her child could not.

Blood spread across the floor, a vivid red that deepened her terror. Despair closed in.

With trembling hands, she fumbled for her phone and dialed emergency services. She forced herself to give the address. After that, her strength gave out.

Darkness swallowed her.

…

In that long stretch of black, she dreamed of Kyran standing beside her as he once had. He rested a gentle hand over her stomach, his voice warm and tender. "I wonder if our baby is a boy or a girl. Either way, I'll love them."

"Who do you think the baby will resemble more? You or me?" she asked.

"Like you," he answered with a smile. "You're the most beautiful."

Sunlight lit his face with such clarity that it seemed he had never left. She reached out to touch his cheek.

Her trembling fingers met only cold air.

When she opened her eyes, she lay in a hospital bed.

Gauze wrapped her injuries. A doctor stood beside her, changing the dressing.

When he saw she was awake, his tone sharpened with concern. "You're pregnant. How did you fall down such a high staircase? Fortunately, you were lucky. The baby is safe. Have your husband come handle the paperwork."

Eliza stared at the ceiling.

"I don't have a husband," she said quietly. "My husband is already dead."

The ward door flew open.

Alban stood there, his face dark with anger. "Who did you say was dead?"