When Valentina saw Rafael’s message, a small spark of warmth returned to her chest.

She tapped a reply immediately: [Okay.]

One month… too long, she thought. One week will do.

In seven days, she would vanish for good—finally severing every tie with Don Desmond Hackett and his world.

The moment she stepped into the Hackett estate, she froze. Selene lounged on the couch in a silken nightgown—Valentina’s nightgown.

The sound of the door made Selene glance up, her smirk sharp as a blade. “Back so soon? You look like a wreck.”

She rose gracefully, stalking toward Valentina, fingers tilting her chin with calculated malice.

“Tsk… that face—pale as parchment. One would think you’re on your deathbed.”

Selene leaned closer, her chest heaving with pride, showing off the marks of last night. “See these bruises? Courtesy of Mondy. Last night… unforgettable.”

Her words grew bolder. A mocking whisper slid into Valentina’s ear.

“In your own bed, he told me I’m the only one who makes him feel like a real man. You? Like a lifeless doll… utterly boring.”

The words struck like bullets. Valentina’s eyes darkened. She raised her hand and struck her sister hard across the face.

“Selene, know your place. I’m still Desmond’s wife. You’re the mistress, nothing more.

“Push me further and I’ll make the world see who you truly are—a maid’s daughter, trying to steal her sister’s husband.”

Valentina had no intention of engaging with her, but Selene insisted on digging her own grave.

Before Selene could respond, Desmond appeared in the doorway. Selene’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor.

“Avy, I’m sorry! I never should’ve come back! I’ll leave today! I’d die if it means I’m out of your way!”

Before Valentina could react, Selene leapt up and bolted toward a pillar.

Desmond was fast—catching her just in time.

“Yannie,” he barked, voice steel, “I invited you. If anyone has a problem with you, they have a problem with me!”

Valentina’s lips curved bitterly.

Supporting Selene, Desmond turned and snapped, “Valentina, apologize!”

“I did nothing wrong. There’s nothing to apologize for. Desmond, don’t you even wonder where I was last night?”

“Did you—” he began, frowning.

She cut him off. “Aren’t you curious—”

“I don’t care where you were!” he snapped. “You will not harm Yannie! Apologize now, or you’ll be suspended—until you admit your wrongdoing!”

To him, Valentina was just his loyal worker. Suspension would be punishment enough.

What he didn’t realize: Valentina had never loved the work. She toiled so that Desmond’s life remained effortless.

Her despair cut through him, tightening his chest with guilt. Yet he turned away, Selene in his arms.

Before leaving, he ordered the maid coldly: “Do not feed her until she apologizes.”

Valentina watched him go, tears tracing silent lines down her face.

This was the man she had loved for seven years. And after this… she would love him no more.

For days, Valentina remained locked inside the estate.

Three times daily, the maid asked if she had realized her mistake.

She never answered, only staring out the window, counting down the days. Five more days—then she’d be free.

Sitting on the balcony swing, her phone buzzed constantly. Every message—Selene.

On the day Valentina planned her departure, another came:

[Bitch, you couldn’t win over our mothers, and you can’t win over a man. One word from me, Mondy won’t come home for a month.]

And Selene proved it.

For two full days, Desmond did not return.

Yet Selene sent footage relentlessly:

Kissing him on the beach.

Photos of him cooking for her.

Intimate, vulgar videos from every angle.

Once, Valentina would have cried. Now… she felt nothing.

A man that flirty, that disloyal, was better off abandoned.

On the fourth day, still refusing to “admit mistakes,” she survived only on water. The maid withheld food.

That evening, she walked into the garden as usual.

A golden retriever lunged at her, slamming her to the ground. Normally harmless, the dog’s strength was deadly to her weakened body.

She collapsed, pain ripping through her belly. Blood soaked her pants. Her face drained of color.

She understood immediately.

Two months ago, during one of the few intimate moments with Desmond, they had not used protection. Now the searing pain told her everything.

Gritting her teeth, she cried out to the bodyguards. The driver rushed her to the car, speeding toward the hospital.

But the streets were blocked.

“Ma’am,” the driver said nervously, “today is Ma’am Selene’s birthday. Sir Desmond shut the roads for her party. We… cannot pass.”

Her clothes soaked in blood, fireworks lit the sky above—Desmond’s love, displayed for Selene.

Valentina closed her eyes in despair.

With what strength she had left, she tore her wedding ring from her finger and flung it out the window.

Her husband. Their marriage. She wanted nothing to do with either anymore.

When Valentina finally opened her eyes, she found herself in a stark hospital room.

The doctor’s expression was heavy with regret. “Ma’am… you haven’t eaten in days. Your body couldn’t sustain the pregnancy. The baby… is gone. I’m truly sorry.”

Instinctively, she pressed her hand to her lower belly. The life that had just begun, now vanished.

Silent tears traced down her cheeks. Perhaps the child had sensed the storm between its parents… and chose to leave this world early.

“Ma’am, your body needs time to recover. Where is your husband? He should be here, taking care of you.”

Valentina steadied herself, her voice steady. “I don’t have a husband.” Then she added, “Doctor, what’s the minimum stay you recommend?”

She wanted to vanish from here as soon as possible.

“Three days,” he said.

Valentina nodded. Three days—just enough for Rafael to come for her. That would be enough.

As they spoke, the ward door swung open. Desmond stormed in, visibly winded from rushing over.

“Why are you here?”

The driver beside him opened his mouth to explain, but Valentina spoke first. “I hadn’t eaten in days. My body gave out… I collapsed.”

Selene’s mocking tone followed like a dagger. “Avy… it’s not like you grew up pampered. How did you end up so fragile?”

Desmond’s gaze softened, though his usual fury lingered beneath the surface. He looked at Valentina, pale and weakened.

“When did you get so stubborn? Admitting a mistake wouldn’t have killed you.

“And if you were unwell, why didn’t you call me?” There was a thread of blame in his voice.

Valentina only stared quietly, her heart wrapped in icy mockery.

Call him?

These past days, he had been wrapped around Selene. He had refused to let her eat, all to “teach her a lesson.” Calling him would have meant humiliation. There was no point.

Since she was leaving soon anyway, she offered a casual excuse.

“You were busy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

For reasons she didn’t bother to acknowledge, Desmond felt a twinge of guilt at her words.

Perhaps realizing he had gone too far, he began visiting the hospital each day.

The morning of her discharge, Valentina spent her time texting Rafael.

Desmond noticed, frowning. She wasn’t the type to be glued to her phone—but lately, it hadn’t left her hand.

“Avy, who are you messaging?”

He reached for the phone, but she jerked it away. “Do you really need to read a lady’s private conversations?”

His hand retreated. “Enough with the phone. We’re leaving soon.”

“Mm,” she replied, expression unreadable.

For the past few days, he had treated her with gentleness—but Valentina knew it wasn’t love. It was guilt.

Once home, Desmond left after dropping her off. Valentina moved into the study, opened the safe, and placed the hospital’s miscarriage report inside.

She retrieved her notebook and wrote one final entry:

[100th disappointment: My baby is gone.]

She closed it. A divorce agreement. A resignation letter. A miscarriage report. One hundred sorrowful memories.

That was her wedding anniversary gift to Don Desmond Hackett.

After organizing everything, she packed her suitcase, left the villa keys on the dining table, and wiped her fingerprint from the smart lock.

Every trace of her existence within the Hackett estate—erased completely.