Sydney lifted her hand to caress her lower belly. The surprise she had planned for Preston no longer felt necessary—after today, there was nothing left to tell him.

She turned and walked toward the cemetery.

Today was Julien’s birthday. Alone, Sydney knelt in front of her son’s grave.

The tombstone was cold and bare, not a single flower laid there. Preston hadn’t even glanced at his son once.

The night air was chilling, but not nearly as cold as the hollow ache in Sydney’s chest.

‘My baby… You could have survived if only your father hadn’t given your heart to Chicago instead,’ she thought, her chest aching and suffocating her.

She failed to protect him, and she blamed herself for that.

Her fingers trembled as they brushed over Julien’s face etched into stone. “My baby… those who hurt you—they’ll get what they deserve…” she promised through clenched teeth.

Exhausted, she dragged herself home. But when she pushed open the door, the scene that greeted her ripped her chest apart—Preston and Savannah were celebrating Chicago’s birthday.

The table was laden with food, a cake pristine and sweet, and the three of them wore smiles that seemed to mock her grief.

Preston’s long, elegant fingers shelled lobster one by one, carefully placing the meat on Savannah’s plate.

The tenderness in his gaze stabbed at Sydney like knives.

He had always been obsessive about cleanliness. Every time he ate lobster, she had shelled each one for him. And now… he was doing it for Savannah.

Chicago stood on his chair, yelling for cake. Preston didn’t scold him at all; he cut the cake and gave him a slice, coaxing him gently and patiently.

The scene reminded Sydney of her own son, the memory of him so painful she had to catch her breath.

Preston had never once celebrated a birthday with Julien. The father that he was had been “too busy,” and when he was home, he was stern. ‘Boys shouldn’t be delicate,’ he would say, never embracing Julien, never feeding him at the table.

Julien had died without ever seeing his father celebrate him. Meanwhile, Savannah’s son easily won Preston’s affection.

Sydney bit down on her trembling lips, refusing to let the tears fall.

Savannah noticed her and smiled faintly. “Oh, Sydney, you’re home. Why so quiet? Can’t stand to see Chicago and me?”

Preston lifted his head, and his gaze fell on Sydney. His once relaxed features quickly twisted with displeasure.

“Come on, Sydney. Savannah is your sister. She and Chicago just returned to the country, so they’ll be staying here from now on. As the older sister, you should be more understanding. Don’t try to compete with her in everything.”

Sydney’s lips curled into a bitter, mocking smile. “Preston… Do you even know what day it is today?”

He frowned but didn’t respond.

Her eyes flared red as she forced the emotion down. “It’s Julien’s birthday, too.”

Her Julien lay alone in the cold cemetery, and his father hadn’t even looked at him. Yet here Preston was, celebrating Savannah’s son.

Was this man even human?

For a brief moment, guilt flickered across his eyes.

Savannah and Chicago had just returned to the country today, and it was the boy’s birthday. There were too many things going on; Preston had forgotten it was also Julien’s birthday, too.

“It’s Chicago’s birthday. I couldn’t leave…” he explained.

Before he could finish what he was saying, Sydney laughed bitterly and turned away.

She didn’t want to hear how much Preston adored Chicago—that only deepened her grief for Julien.

She returned to her room. Savannah followed, dripping fake concern.

“Sydney,” she said, “I know Julien’s death is hard for you. But he was born with a congenital heart defect. His life was suffering, death… was a release for him.”

Sydney shivered. Julien was her deepest wound, and Savannah deliberately tore at it.

Unable to restrain herself, she raised her hand across Savannah’s face.

“What are you doing?!” Preston’s cold voice cut through the air.

Savannah clutched her face and leaned into him. “Preston, I was only trying to show concern for her. And yet… she hit me! Does she not want me and Chicago to stay here?”

Preston’s eyes darkened. The next second, his hand came down on Sydney with full force.

It was so strong that the world spun in Sydney’s eyes, her ears ringing from the blow.

“From today,” Preston announced, “the master bedroom goes to Savannah. You move to the guest room!”

Feeling something wet by her ear, Sydney reached up and touched warm, sticky, and red liquid.

Sydney’s eyes widened in disbelief as they stared at Preston.

Savannah then softly said, “Sydney, that look… You mean you don’t want to give me the master bedroom?”

Preston looked at Sydney with disgust. “Such jealousy. Perhaps I was too good to you these past years. Since you have forgotten your place… then maybe the confinement room will help you reflect.”

The words echoed in her head. ‘Confinement room?!’

Before she could protest, she was dragged into a dark and airtight room.

Worse, she had claustrophobia.

In an instant, panic and suffocation hit her in tandem. “Let me out! Preston, I’m scared of the dark! Let me out!”

Outside, Preston’s brow furrowed, a moment of hesitation softening him, but then Savannah’s whisper reached him.

“Hey, are you feeling sorry for her? She grew up in the countryside, remember? She can’t be scared of the dark. She’s faking it. Five years ago, she forced me abroad and stole you from me… Now, she’s playing the same games.”

Preston knelt beside Savannah. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he reassured her, leaving Sydney trapped.

Her heart sank as their footsteps faded.

He had really locked her in here.

Tears spilled uncontrollably. She curled up, digging her nails into her flesh, biting her lips until they bled.

In her bloodshot eyes burned nothing but hatred.

In the dead of night, warm liquid splashed her face, the stench hitting her.

She snapped her eyes open in terror. A massive dog’s head loomed above her.

“Ahhh!” she screamed.

The next second, sharp teeth sank into her arm.

She struggled violently, but there was no escape. Flesh tore from her arm, thigh, and back.

The sealed room was filled with the stench of blood.

Crawling to the door while covered in blood, she cried out for help with all her strength. “Someone! Save me… Preston, help me! Let me out!”

But no matter how she screamed, the door stayed tightly shut.

Drawn by the scent of blood, the dog grew even more frenzied, lunging for her neck.

“Ugh—”

At that point, pain exploded through her body, and she coughed up a mouthful of blood. Shortly after, she blacked out.

Sydney woke up in the hospital.

Her entire body ached, and her delicate throat was wrapped in layers of gauze. The moment she tried to speak, it felt as if sharp knives were cutting through her throat, sending cold sweat down her spine.

“I…”

The nurse hurriedly stopped her. “Your throat is seriously injured. You can’t speak for now.”

Sydney picked up her phone and saw Savannah’s latest Instagram post.

At the amusement park, Preston held Chicago’s hand on one side, Savannah on the other—the three looking like a perfect happy family.

Sydney’s gaze darkened instantly, fists clenching so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Before Julien died, his greatest wish had been for Preston to take him to the amusement park. But the poor boy had never gotten that chance.

Not even on his birthday did Preston show up. They waited day and night for him, but he never came.

He said he was busy with work. But Sydney knew too well that was just an excuse!

Three whole years, he spared not a single day for Julien, yet the moment Savannah returned to New York, he immediately whisked her and Chicago off to the amusement park.

Sydney threw back the covers and tried to stand.

The nurse grew worried. “Hey, you can’t leave yet! You’re heavily injured and pregnant! If you must be discharged, your family has to come get you.”

Family?

A bitter laugh escaped Sydney’s lips. The Adelsons had always treated her like a tool. And her husband…

Welp, ever since Savannah and her son returned, Preston had probably already forgotten his wife existed.

The moment she stepped through the villa’s door, her blood boiled.

An Alaskan malamute wore a tiny outfit. To be specific, it was Julien’s outfit!

Every piece of the boy’s belongings had been carefully preserved by her, treasured like a lifeline. And now, someone had desecrated them like this!

Rage ignited inside her right there and then. Ignoring her injuries, she lunged to snatch the clothes.

Just then, Preston and Savannah walked in with Chicago.

The kid swung a wooden stick at Sydney. “Bad woman! Don’t hurt Loki! I’ll beat you to death! I’ll beat you to death, bad woman!”

But Sydney’s eyes were fixed only on Julien’s clothes.The next second, she shoved the kid aside.

The kid toppled to the floor and started wailing.

Preston’s face darkened instantly. He scooped up Chicago, soothing him, then spun around to scold Sydney.

“What’s gotten into you?!”

Her eyes were bloodshot, fury clouding all reason. “Preston, that’s Julien’s clothing! You’re putting Julien’s clothes on a dog!”

Savannah frowned. “It’s just a piece of clothing. Why make such a fuss? I can just buy her a new one. Sydney, there’s no need to hit a child over something so trivial.”

“You can’t replace it!” Sydney shot back. “Julien is dead, and you dare to humiliate him like this?!”

“That’s enough!” Preston’s voice cut through.

His gaze turned cold, sharp as a blade, his face hard with fury. “It’s just a piece of clothing. Is it really worth making such a scene? Seriously, Sydney, you’re becoming increasingly unruly!”

Sydney stared at him, dumbfounded.

‘Just a piece of clothing…’ she repeated in her head.

“Preston, that’s Julien’s clothing!” she roared.

Preston’s brows furrowed. “For god’s sake, Sydney, Julien is dead! How long are you going to keep this up?”

Sydney fell silent, her heart shattering.

How could someone be so cold-blooded?

Julien was his child, too.

At that moment, Chicago tugged Preston’s hand, pouting. “Loki doesn’t have a room yet. Can he stay in the room upstairs?”

Without hesitation, Preston replied, “Sure.”

The second-floor room was Julien’s room. Sydney’s pupils constricted, fury igniting in her eyes.

Preston wanted to give Julien’s room to a dog?!

Feeling invincible with Preston’s support, Chicago went further. He threw Julien’s favorite stuffed toy to the dog.

That toy had been Julien’s constant companion, smelled of him, and the only thing Sydney could hug each night to get any sleep.

Now, the toy was clamped between the dog’s teeth.

Pain twisted her insides like a knife in agony. Her chest felt pierced, heartache so sharp it was unbearable.

Teeth gritted, emotions spiraling out of control, she lunged for the toy—but Chicago shoved her hard.

Her forehead slammed against the crimson table corner; blood gushed instantly.

She couldn’t stand. Blood streamed over her lashes, her vision drowned in the red blurring her vision until everything around her turned scarlet.

Preston’s eyes flickered. His hand lifted, then he heard Savannah whisper.

“Preston, my hand really hurts.”

Preston immediately scooped her up and walked out, not even glancing at Sydney on the floor.

Sydney forced her eyes open. All she saw was Preston’s cold and distant back and Savannah’s triumphant smirk.

Every bone, every fiber in Sydney’s body hurt. But none of it compared to the agony in her chest!

Blood kept flowing, her temperature dropping. Her face turned as pale as paper; her brown pupils were like bottomless pits filled with pain and hatred…

Suddenly, her phone rang. It was Brooks.

With great effort, she picked up the phone.

On the other end of the line, Brooks said coldly, “I’ve found a divorce lawyer for you. Sydney… don’t make me wait too long.”

Sydney walked out of the hospital by herself and headed straight to a divorce lawyer.

The divorce papers were already prepared. The lawyer glanced at her seriously. “Ma’am, Mr. Stryker asked me to pass along a message.”

He relayed, “Don’t forget—you have my family behind you. Even if everything falls apart, someone will be there to catch you.”

Sydney’s eyes stung, and she clenched the papers tightly in her hand.

She had been reckless—leaving the Strykers to return to her own, stubbornly marrying Preston despite knowing better. Now, she knew just how ridiculously wrong she had been.

All along, the man who truly loved her in this world was in the Strykers.

With that realization, she took the divorce agreement and went to the company to find Preston.

But she hadn’t even reached the upper floor when his assistant stopped her.

With a blank expression, the assistant said, “Sir Preston is in a meeting. He doesn’t have time to see you.”

A chill swept through Sydney’s eyes. She should have guessed Preston had cheated. Otherwise, how could his assistant speak to her like this?

At that moment, Savannah arrived.

Seeing Sydney, her face darkened. Crossing her arms, she sneered, “What are you doing here? Preston doesn’t want to see you at all. Girl, take my advice—wake up and stop clinging to him. The woman he loves is me.”

Sydney returned the cold gaze, holding up the divorce papers. “If you don’t want to be the shameful mistress your whole life, then have Preston sign this.”

Savannah took the document, surprised and hesitant for a moment. It didn’t take long before greed flashed in her eyes as she realized they were genuine divorce papers.

“You’re really divorcing Preston?” she asked, trying to mask her excitement.

But Sydney just made a move to leave. Fearing she might change her mind, Savannah wasted no time; she pushed the meeting room door open.

This time, the assistant didn’t even try to stop the visitor. His boss had specifically told Savannah she could enter anywhere freely.

When Preston saw her, there was no trace of annoyance at being interrupted. Instead, his expression softened as he asked her gently.

“Savannah, what brings you here?”

Savannah flipped straight to the last page. “Preston, sign here.”

He didn’t even glance at it; he just signed his name.

Seeing how easy it was for him, Sydney let out a bitter smile.

‘So this is what it means when he loves someone—meetings can be interrupted, documents can be signed without a glance,’ she thought.

She had once foolishly thought he loved her. ‘Damn, that’s hilarious,’ she thought to herself.

Savannah handed the signed divorce papers back to Sydney. “Here. Don’t pester him again.”

Sydney took them and went straight to the clerk’s office.

She glanced outside; rain had started, cold and fine, whipping through the wind. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself, still shivering.

When she stepped back into the villa, she saw Preston and Savannah on the couch, entwined in intimacy.

Sydney turned a blind eye and headed upstairs.

But Savannah wasn’t done with her.

“Hey, Sydney. You grew up in the countryside, didn’t you? You must be good at cooking, right? I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. I want some soup made by you.”

Sydney’s face remained blank. “I’m not your maid,” she replied flatly.

Savannah pouted and whined at Preston. “Preston, I just want some soup. But she won’t even make it for me. Is she still mad that we let Loki stay in Julien’s room?”

Preston frowned, his eyes darkening as he glanced at Sydney. “It’s just a bowl of soup. You’ve used to make it before. If Savannah wants it, make it for her.”

Sydney froze. At that point, it felt like all the love she had poured out had gone to the dogs.

She had been pampered by the Strykers since childhood—her foster parents and Brooks had treated her like a little princess, never letting her touch chores.

She had learned to cook only for Preston because he was picky and refused anything the servants made. Feeling sorry for him, she took the initiative to learn.

Her hands had been burned with blisters more than a dozen times, every finger cut and scarred, before she finally mastered the skill.

And now that had become the very reason he bossed around her.

But Sydney sneered, firmly enunciating, “I won’t do it.”

She turned to leave when Preston’s face darkened. He barked, “Stop! If you want Julien’s ashes, go make the goddamn soup!”

Sydney spun around, disbelief and rage igniting. “Preston! What have you done?! You dug up Julien’s ashes?!”

Preston frowned at her furious gaze.

Savannah, pretending to reason, stoked the fire. “Don’t blame Preston, Sydney. After Chicago returned to the country, he wasn’t feeling well. Someone said some unclean spirit was harming him, so Preston had Julien’s ashes dug up.”

Sydney glared at Preston. “You fucking dug up Julien’s ashes?! Aren’t you afraid of karma?”

Savannah clutched her mouth, gasping. “Sydney! How can you curse Preston like that?”

Preston’s expression turned menacing. “Get lost! Make the soup!”

Sydney’s chest heaved violently, rage threatening to scorch her sanity.

Her Julien had been so obedient, so gentle, tormented by illness in life, and now, even in death, he was disturbed.

She couldn’t let him suffer further.

For him, she went to the kitchen.

The soup was ready when Savannah suddenly cried out, “Ouch! My hand! Sydney! Why did you pour this hot soup on me?!”

Hearing the panic, Preston rushed over and held Savannah in his arms.

His gaze, dark and murderous, shot to Sydney. “Do you want to die?!”

Sydney stood tall, her back straight. “I didn’t do it. She’s pretending.”

Veins bulging on his forehead, his eyes cold as steel, Preston suddenly pressed Sydney’s hand into the boiling soup.

“Ahhh!”

Her scream of agony tore through the room. Waves of searing pain crashed through every nerve ending, her hand’s skin instantly reddened, blisters swelling and spreading her skin. The sight of it was grotesque and alarming to look at.

She bit her lip hard, body convulsing in agony, struggling desperately but unable to escape the searing agony that reached her bones.

Her tears mingled with sweat, blurring her vision.

After a while, Preston finally let go but hit her in the belly. “Savannah treats you like a sister, but you’re so wicked you purposely tried to burn her hand! If anything happens to her, I swear I will never forgive you!”

After that, he dashed off with Savannah to the hospital.

Meanwhile, Sydney lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. She knew exactly what that meant.

Her face was pale as death. The pain was worse than death itself.