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?"

The doctor clearly assumed it was a simple marital dispute and quickly tried to defuse the situation. "You two should stop arguing first. Your wife's stomach—"

Eliza sat up abruptly. "Doctor, weren't you going to get my medication?"

He paused, caught the implication, and said nothing further. Without another word, he turned and left.

Alban looked back at her. "The doctor mentioned your stomach. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Eliza replied evenly. "He just meant I was injured there too."

His expression hardened, though his tone remained cold and controlled. "If you hadn't laid hands on Vina, you wouldn't have fallen down the stairs.

"You were at fault first. Go apologize to Vina."

Eliza shook her head. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize? The restaurant has cameras. Watch the footage, and you'll see the truth."

Alban's face darkened. "I don't need to check the cameras. I believe Vina. You will apologize."

After everything that had happened, exhaustion weighed heavily on Eliza. She wanted nothing more than to rest, focus on the baby, and recover. She had no energy left to argue.

After a brief silence, she asked quietly, "If I apologize, will you leave me alone?"

The near-resignation in her voice gave Alban pause. Something about her felt different. Even so, he nodded.

Eliza said nothing more. She rose from the bed and walked straight to Davina's hospital room.

Standing before her, Eliza met her gaze calmly. "I'm sorry."

She turned to Alban. "Is that enough?"

Without waiting for a response, she walked out, leaving Alban standing there with a grim expression.

…

During her hospital stay, Eliza often overheard nurses and doctors praising Alban's gentleness and devotion toward Davina.

Davina's injuries were minor, yet he had arranged for the city's top specialists to attend to her personally. He fed her whatever she wanted to eat. When she needed the restroom, he carried her to the door.

Eliza ignored it all. She focused on one thing only: protecting her pregnancy.

…

On the day of her discharge, Eliza completed her final examinations.

The doctor assured her that the baby was healthy.

She rested a hand on her stomach and asked, "If children are born to identical twin brothers, will they look very similar?"

The question took the doctor by surprise.

After a moment's thought, he replied, "It depends on genetics. If the paternal genes are dominant, it's certainly possible."

Relief loosened the tension in her chest. She thanked him and turned to leave.

At the hospital entrance, she ran into Davina, who was also being discharged. Alban stood beside her.

When Davina saw Eliza, she slipped into her usual innocent demeanor and smiled sweetly. "Ms. Lockett, I won't hold what happened against you. Let's still be friends. To celebrate my discharge, Al arranged a gathering. Come with us."

Before Eliza could refuse, Davina took her arm and led her to the car.

…

By the time they arrived at the private room, several friends from their circle had already gathered.

Throughout the evening, Alban's attention never wavered from Davina. He peeled fruit for her, intercepted drinks meant for her, and draped his jacket over her legs.

Envious glances circled the table.

As for Eliza, the so-called Mrs. Sidham, she did not look at them once the entire night.

Later, someone proposed a game: whoever lost would choose truth, dare, or drink.

Midway through the game, Eliza lost a round.

Earlier, whenever Davina had lost, Alban had taken the drink in her place without hesitation. Eliza knew he would never do the same for her in front of everyone.

She chose truth.

A guest with a flair for drama glanced at Davina, fully aware of the tension between them, and asked with a grin, "Is the person you like here tonight?"

Eliza kept her gaze lowered. She lifted her glass and took a calm sip of juice. "No."