After leaving the wedding, I went straight to a hotel, took a long shower, changed my clothes, and headed to the bank.

There, I transferred the entire demolition compensation from my maiden family into a separate account.

Eight figures.

The number was heavy, cold, but oddly reassuring.

This was the money I had once planned to use for Damian’s retirement and to help raise my future grandchildren.

But now, I regretted everything.

Money may not be able to buy love, but at the very least, it could buy me a clean, dignified exit from this sham of a life.

I paid the remaining balance for the seaside villa—the one on the island I used to dream about as a teenager. I’d seen it in magazines, where the breeze was gentle, and coconut trees sway in rows.

I used to say, “Once the kid grows up, and Damian retires, we’ll go there together.”

Damian always laughed and said, “Where would we get that kind of money? It’s hard enough just to make ends meet.”

Looking back now, all I did was save money for him and his precious first love—while sacrificing my youth and dreams.

But this time, I’m taking my life back.

I contacted a lawyer and asked someone to draft a divorce agreement. I told myself that once Damian returned, I would have him sign it.

He had already married Eleanor in every way that mattered. What was he still holding on to me for?

But the lawyer furrowed his brows after reviewing the documents.

“Ms. Campbell,” he said cautiously, “legally speaking... your marriage doesn’t exist.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t find any record of your marriage registration. According to the Civil Affairs Bureau, Mr. Damian is not registered as married.”

“No... that’s impossible.” My voice cracked, hoarse with disbelief. I stared at the computer screen. “I remember—he held my hand and took me to the civil office. We filled out the forms, took the photo, and got the certificate... I wore a white dress. He even said I looked just as beautiful as the day we first met, twenty years ago.”

The lawyer was silent.

Seeing my reddened eyes, he hesitated for a moment before offering, “We can go check again—I'll go with you.”

At the Civil Affairs Bureau, the staff checked the system three times, and even rummaged through the old paper archives.

Finally, they looked up with a complicated expression and shook their heads.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Campbell. There’s no record of your marriage with Mr. Sanders.”

I slumped into the chair, dizzy, the world spinning around me.

Then what was the past forty years of my life?

I bore Damian a child, supported the family, cooked, cleaned, took on debts, raised our son—all of it, day in and day out, for decades. And now you’re telling me...

I wasn’t even legally his wife?

My first thought was—Did Ethan know?

But then, I laughed.

He had long since chosen Eleanor as his mother, stood proudly by her side, calling her “family,” “mother,” “the one who raised him.”

Even if he knew the truth, would he care?

In a daze, I went home.

I walked straight upstairs, heading to my room to pack my things.

But the moment I opened the door, I froze.

Eleanor was lying on my bed, wrapped in the quilt I had spent six months embroidering.

Beside her pillow was a framed photo of her, Damian, and Ethan—posing like a picture-perfect family.

The moment she saw me, she let out a fake, startled gasp, then slowly sat up.

“Oh... you’re back? I didn’t think you’d come home today. I couldn’t sleep last night, and Ethan insisted I stay in your room. Said your room had good ambience. I didn’t want to argue with him.”

She yawned, then deliberately lifted the quilt, flashing the dazzling diamond ring on her finger beneath her sleepwear. Brushing her hair back with a smug smile, she said, “This? Oh, it’s from Damian. He said he owed me far too much over the years—and no matter how much he gives, it’ll never be enough.”

I stood in the doorway, as if nailed to the ground. Clenching my fist, I snapped, “Enough. I don’t want to hear it. Get out of my room—now.”

But Eleanor didn’t even flinch. She continued lazily, like she owned the place. “Don’t be mad. Damian only married you because he was confused. If my parents hadn’t forced me to go abroad back then, do you really think you’d ever have gotten the title of Mrs. Sanders?”

She gave me a pitying smile and continued, “Honestly, I kind of admire you, Audrey. You managed to live in a dream for decades without ever realizing the whole marriage was fake. How do you stay that naive for so long?”

She emphasized the word “fake”, as if to stab me with it.

“But don’t worry. I’m not heartless. Once I recover a bit, I’ll convince Damian to give you some compensation. After all, you did contribute something to our family. Even if you were never the real wife, you were at least a good little housekeeper.”

Then, she deliberately glanced at my outfit from head to toe, and added, “Though, looking at you now... it’s no wonder Ethan won’t acknowledge you. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to call you ‘Mom’ either.”

Rage surged in my chest. My vision went black.

I raised my hand and slapped her across the face hard.

Eleanor yelped and stumbled out of the room, clutching her cheek, screaming dramatically, “Damian! Audrey has gone crazy! She hit me!”

Soon, hurried footsteps echoed up the stairs.

Damian rushed over and immediately wrapped his arms around Eleanor.

“What happened? What’s going on?!”

Tears welled in Eleanor’s eyes as she looked at me.

“She hit me... she barged in, yelling at me, then slapped me for no reason...”

“Audrey, have you lost your mind?!”

Damian glared at me, eyes full of disgust.

“All this over a wedding? That ceremony was just to fulfill her lifelong wish—it wasn't real. Must you be this petty?”

Ethan appeared too, his face was dark with disapproval.

“Mom, this is too much. Can’t you just let her be? Aunt Elly isn’t in good health. Letting her stay in your room—that’s just kindness from our side.”

I gave a cold, mirthless laugh.

“Kindness? Did you even ask me, your so-called mother, how I felt about it?”

“What right do you have to talk about feelings?” my son snapped, voice rising.

“What have you ever done besides giving birth to me? Dad’s success came from Aunt Elly supporting him behind the scenes—not you. Just stop making things worse.”

A sudden rush of blood surged through me, leaving me breathless. My body weakened all at once, and though I clung desperately to the wall, I still collapsed hard to the ground.

I gasped for air, unable to speak. A tight, suffocating pressure clamped down on my chest—my asthma had flared up, and even breathing became a struggle within seconds.

None of them moved.

Damian frowned. “Here we go again. Always using your illness to manipulate people. Aren’t you tired of this act? After all these years, you're still this pathetic?”

Eleanor tugged at his sleeve, feigning guilt.

“Forget it, Damian. Ethan, don’t blame her. It’s my fault. I was being too sensitive—I shouldn’t have stayed in Audrey’s room. Maybe I’ll just sleep on the couch tonight... It’s fine. I don’t have many days left anyway.”

Upon hearing that, they turned away from me without a glance and rushed to fetch medicated oil and an ice pack for her.

They hovered over her, comforting her gently.

“There, there. Don’t cry. I’ll make her apologize to you,” Damian whispered.

I sat slumped on the floor, watching the three of them fuss over Eleanor like she was made of porcelain.

Not a single one of them brought me my medicine.

Not one.

I remembered not long ago when Eleanor had eaten something that didn’t sit well with her, and they had panicked, rushing her to a private hospital, keeping vigil for three days and nights.

She, a woman nearing sixty, was draped in a custom-made haute couture gown they chose together, her skin was glowing from luxury skincare products I wouldn’t dare buy even if I scrimped and saved.

While me? I’m wearing a decade-old dress from a clearance rack, with a faded, fake-gold bracelet I picked up at a second-hand stall.

And in that moment, it hit me with painful, terrifying clarity.

In this family, I’m exactly what Eleanor said I was—someone treated worse than a nanny.

Gasping for air, I collapsed forward, face pressed against the cold floor like a dying fish.

Damian just frowned again and stepped aside with Eleanor.

“She always pulls this stunt. Crying, wheezing—it’s not the first time.”

They wouldn't help me.

I had to crawl.

Elbow by elbow, I dragged myself across the icy tiles to the cabinet. Gritting my teeth, inch by inch, I reached for the inhaler and pills, trembling as I poured a few into my palm and swallowed them dry.

Just as I wiped the residue from my lips, Damian reappeared.

“Audrey, give me your jade pendant.”

I froze. Before I could react, he reached to grab the red string around my neck.

“Damian, what are you doing?!” I recoiled, crashing into the coffee table behind me.

He scowled, growing impatient.

“What are you being so protective for? Let Elly wear it for a few days—it’ll keep her safe. You’ve had it long enough. It's time to pass it on.”

I clutched my neck, voice trembling. “That was left to me by my parents—”

“It’s just for a few days!” he snapped.

“Elly’s health is getting worse. Even the doctors said she should wear something for spiritual protection. Your jade has been blessed, hasn’t it? Stop being so selfish.”

I rasped, fury flaring in my chest.

“She wants protection? Let her buy one! Beg for one! Why do you have to take mine?!”

His eyes turned cold and he slapped me without warning.

The force knocked me back onto the floor. My ear rang, and my cheek burned.

“All this fuss over a lousy piece of jade?” he growled. “You’re ridiculous.”

I gasped for breath, clutching my stinging cheek as tears poured down. My face went numb.

“That jade is a protective charm my parents prayed for—the last thing they left me!”

Damian pushed me aside impatiently. With a rough yank, the red string tightened around my neck before snapping with a sharp crack.

The smooth jade slipped from my neck and rolled to a stop at Ethan’s feet.

“Alright, enough, both of you,” Ethan muttered, crouching down to pick up the jade. He weighed it casually in his palm, and clicked his tongue.

“Mom, you're being dramatic again. Dad already said it’s just for Aunt Elly to borrow for a few days. She’s not going to keep it.”

And with that, he turned and handed the jade to Eleanor.

At that moment, the bedroom door swung open with a loud bang.

My daughter-in-law appeared at the doorway, wrapped in her robe, eyes filled with contempt.

“Seriously? Making this much noise in the middle of the night? Can’t you people ever shut up? You’re old and useless, always stirring up trouble. Why don’t you just die outside somewhere?”

Her words sliced into me like a knife.

“Look at you, gasping like a dying dog. Who are you trying to impress with this act? Why don’t you just drop dead already?”

I looked up at her, my lips trembling, unable to speak.

She sneered, cast a disgusted glance my way, yawned, and muttered, “Filthy thing.”

Eleanor clutched her chest weakly and murmured, “I’m fine... It’s my fault. Please don’t argue over me. It’s alright—I don’t need the jade...”

As she spoke, she swayed delicately as if she might faint at any second.

My chest burned.

“Damian, if you don’t return that jade to me, I’ll divorce you!”

My voice tore from my throat like a scream, raw and sharp.

Even as I said it, I was gambling—gambling on the forty years we’d spent together, hoping there was still some shred of attachment left.

I was testing our marriage, desperate to believe it hadn’t all been a lie.

But reality struck like a slap across the face.

“Fine, divorce it is!”

Damian roared, like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

“You think I can’t live without you? It’s you who’s been clinging to me all these years! You really thought you mattered in this house?!”

He flung my arm away and hissed coldly. “And let me tell you something—we were never legally married! There’s no official record of us. You idiot! If you want to leave, then get out! Get lost and stay gone!”

My heart pounded violently, each beat like an explosion in my chest.

I turned to look at my son—my last hope, my last plea.

But the moment our eyes met, he looked away—faster than anyone else.

“M-Mom...” Ethan stammered. “Dad didn’t mean it. You shouldn’t bring up divorce all the time. We’re not young anymore—how embarrassing would that be if people heard?”

He forced a smile, like coaxing a child throwing a tantrum.

But the panic in his eyes, the way he avoided my gaze—I understood everything in that instant.

He knew.

He had known all along.

Yet he still joined Damian in lying to me, year after year.

The son I raised with everything I had—chose to deceive me too.

Damian sneered. “Ethan, don’t waste your breath. She’s useless now.”

He looked at me with undisguised contempt. “Audrey, you think I ever wanted you? If Elly hadn’t been afraid of having kids, I wouldn’t have looked at someone like you twice! Your only worth was cooking and popping out a child. Other than that, you’re nothing.”

“Now that Elly is back, you should get lost.”

I felt empty, like something had been ripped out of me. My eyes were dry, like sandpaper scraping against them. I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore.

So that was the truth.

All those years ago, Damian had manipulated and lied to me just because he was hoping that the woman he truly loved—Eleanor, the one who cared only about art and refused to have children—might someday come back to him.

And she had.

Decades later, he had a healthy heir, a grandson on the way, and his precious first love was now old and ill, needing someone to lean on.

In his eyes, I, the woman who gave him a child and took care of his home, was just a tool—now expired and ready to be thrown away.

I looked around the house one last time.

The hand-sewn tablecloth. The family photos I took myself. The rugs I laid down. The curtains I washed. The soups I simmered. The medicine I bought...

Everything was still there.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll go.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry.

I walked toward the door.

“Mom...” Ethan called hesitantly.

Damian scoffed from the sofa. “Let her go. Once she realizes no one cares, she’ll come crawling back like a stray dog. Then we’ll see if I even feel like opening the door for her.”

I didn’t look back. I didn’t hesitate.

The wind outside was bitter cold, stinging my eyes shut—but I walked fast, unwilling to stay another second in that place.

At the street corner, I hailed a cab.

The driver asked, “Where to?”

“The airport.” I sighed.

I booked the soonest flight to the island I had long dreamed of visiting my entire life.

At the same time, I called my real estate agent.

“Hello. Please help me sell the apartment I own downtown. The sooner the better.”

That downtown apartment was my inheritance from my aunt.

She had warned me never to add Damian or Ethan’s names to the deed—not until I was dead.

She told me that if I ever found myself in a desperate situation, I should sell it and keep the money in my own hands. That would be the safest.

Out of respect for her, I never added their names—naively thinking that family didn’t need such distinctions.

Over the years, they complained about it endlessly, and I felt guilty—so guilty that I treated them even better.

But now, I understood my aunt’s warning.

And I realized how ridiculous I’d been.

Since my marriage was never real, there’s no need to divide assets.

That house belongs entirely to me.

If they wouldn't acknowledge me as their family—then they could get the hell out of my house!