I was Byron Estrada's doormat, always there to fulfill his every whim. But Byron hated me, ridiculing me at every turn.

It was all because three years ago, I ran away the day before our wedding.

Now, three years later, I had returned with a child—whose real father just so happened to be Byron's brother.

The hospital was dimly lit. Before I could even take off my white coat, my phone buzzed.

I saw the familiar numbers flash across the screen, and I couldn't help but furrow my brow.

"Dana, come to The Midnight Club, VIP Room B."

The noise on the other end was a chaotic blend of laughter and voices.

"Dana, bring a bottle of wine. Tonight, we drink until we drop."

"Yeah, bring champagne. Let's give Rosa a proper celebration!"

I glanced over at my daughter, who had just drifted off to sleep, then lowered my voice.

"Byron, Bibi's sick. I want to stay with her. I can't leave, not tonight. Please, I'm begging you. don't make me go."

"You've got ten minutes to do your makeup, ten to change, and ten to catch a cab. You know I hate it when people are late."

Byron Estrada was asking me to go to the club to celebrate his celebrity girlfriend winning an award. It was almost laughable—Byron had more girlfriends than I could count. They came and went, the longest lasting barely three months.

But there was one who had stayed for three years without being replaced—Rosa Parker. She might even become the real Mrs. Estrada. Of course, none of that mattered to me.

But there was one person who had stayed in his life longer than anyone else: Me.

Byron and I had grown up together. But I wasn't a threat to Rosa or any of his girlfriends. I was just Byron's doormat.

I'd never refuse any of his unreasonable requests, and I certainly wouldn't compete with any of his lovers.

Or, to put it another way, I couldn't refuse him.

Bibi was sick—she had leukemia. As her mother and a doctor, I couldn't save her.

Poverty was the one single disease that had no cure. The only way I could get the medication Bibi needed was by fulfilling Byron's every demand.

Each box of the life-saving Nimitine cost 20 thousand dollars, and the only place it was available was Byron's private hospital.

So I could never slack off when it came to Byron's orders. All I could do was submit, apologize, and obey.

But this time, Bibi was far too sick. I couldn't leave her. I feared that if I stepped out for even a moment, I might never see my daughter again. She was the only family I had left.

My restless movements woke Bibi. The heart monitor beeped loudly in alarm.

"Mom, are you busy?"

Her tiny voice was so much more thoughtful than that of any other child her age. I took her small hand in mine, pressing my face against it. Bibi's little hand moved over my face.

"Mom, it's okay. I'm not scared. I'll wait for you to come back."

Her voice was weak, the frailty unmistakable.

Byron's call came again. I reluctantly called over a nurse to take care of Bibi and gave them my instructions.

"Bibi, be good. I'll be back soon. When I get back, I'll bring you your favorite ice cream."

I caressed her face, then reluctantly left the room.

Fate really does have a cruel sense of humor. Byron and I were supposed to be equals. Our families had been close for years. But when I was seven, my father's business failed. In despair, he took my mother and me to the river and jumped in.

When the firefighters pulled us from the water, I was the only one who survived. Byron's mother, Miriam Estrada, came and held me close.

"It's okay, Dana. I'm here."

I lay in Miriam's arms, feeling warmth and comfort.

Later, I became an adopted daughter of the Estradas.

The Estradas had two sons. One was Byron. The other was Bibi's biological father, Jeffrey Estrada.

By the time I stepped out, Bibi had fallen asleep again. She hadn't been feeling well, often drifting in and out of sleep. I lingered by the door, my worry gnawing at me as I stole one last glance at her. In the end, I left, feeling uneasy.

Billings Lane wasn't far from the hospital, and it was where Bibi's favorite strawberry ice cream was sold. I grabbed an ice pack and tucked it into my bag along with the ice cream. Then, I hailed a cab and headed toward The Midnight Club.

As the cab sped along, I touched up my makeup in the rearview mirror. Byron hated seeing me bare-faced. He always said I looked too plain without makeup, so I had no choice but to cover up. The false lashes were a struggle on the bumpy road, and as I struggled to secure them, a tear fell, splashing onto my hand, hot and painful—humiliating in its sting.

Though it was past midnight, the city center was still alive with the glittering lights of the night.

When I pushed open the door, I immediately saw Byron lounging on the sofa in the center of the room. His custom gray-brown suit highlighted his chiseled V-shaped frame. The gold-rimmed glasses he wore caught a hint of the light above, adding an extra layer of sharpness to his already formidable presence.

Rosa, draped across him, had her arms wrapped around his neck, leaning in to kiss him with the kind of intimate abandon that left no room for others.

Byron's eyes shifted toward the door as I entered, his dark gaze flickering with something that resembled satisfaction.

He patted Rosa's arm, and she immediately slid off him, sitting on the side with an air of practiced indifference.

"It's 11:10 PM. You're ten minutes late."

Byron extended his hand, glancing at his wristwatch.

I lowered my head, muttering quietly, "Bibi had a fever. I went to get her some ice cream."

"Dana, no excuses. Today's Rosa's birthday. Do what you're supposed to do and don't make me angry."

Byron's tone was commanding, and the group of young men around him echoed his words.

"Yeah, Dana. Why don't you go get the cake for Rosa?"

"Pour the drinks. Serve Byron and Rosa. Dana, you've never been this clueless."

"Haha, exactly. Are you feeling a little inferior now that you know Rosa won the Best Actress award?"

I took a deep breath, swallowing my humiliation and pain, then went to cut the cake for Rosa and pour the wine.

"Since I was late and spoiled everyone's mood, I'll punish myself with three glasses of wine."

I tilted my head back and drained a glass of red wine, hoping it would please Byron and get him off my back, so I could finally leave.

"Byron, can I go now?"

Byron didn't answer, but I felt a hand slide up my waist. I stumbled, and the wine glass slipped from my hand, spilling across the floor.

"Dana, it's fine. Don't worry. I'm staying with you tonight."

Following the hand holding me, I looked over at the unfamiliar face beside me, recognizing him as some new, flashy heir from Dystenia, probably someone Byron had taken under his wing.

But I knew that this newcomer's fortune would soon fade away.

"Get him out." Byron's voice was cold with fury, his eyes gleaming with menace.

Byron's old friends knew well that he enjoyed belittling and humiliating me, allowing those around him to do the same.

But there was a limit to how far insults could go. Only he was allowed to touch me. Anyone else who crossed that line would suffer the consequences.

This newcomer clearly didn't understand the rules. He thought humiliating me would win Byron's favor, but it only earned him a swift downfall.

After the chaos subsided, Byron pointed at me. "You can continue."

"The wine is spilled, so I can't drink it. Let me go home." I practically begged, my voice barely a whisper.

"It's nothing. Just clean it up and open a new bottle."

I turned to find a waiter, but Byron snapped his fingers irritably, pointing at me with his index finger.

"You clean it up yourself."

I nodded numbly, grabbed a cloth, and kneeled on the ground to wipe up the spilled wine.

Byron tapped his temple with his fingers, saying, "Dana, your ability to seduce people hasn't diminished over the years."

His gaze was both angry and satisfied, radiating the arrogance of someone in power.

Around me, people watched with amusement, and Rosa looked on too, her eyes filled with disdain and smug satisfaction.

I lifted my eyes to Byron, wanting to explain, but when I opened my mouth, no words came out.

At seven years old, I had entered the Estrada family home. Byron, faced with the sudden addition of a little sister, was unusually happy about it.

In the beginning, I was plagued by nightmares, drowning in an endless sea of water, suffocating.

Byron would give me his favorite Doraemon doll to keep me company at night, draping his beloved Doraemon blanket over me.

"Doraemon can do anything. It'll protect you. And I'll protect you too. You won't need to be scared anymore."

The childhood bond between us grew into something deeper over the years.

I knew Byron loved me. His teenage affections were wild and carefree, and as the son of the Estradas, he was a bright star wherever he went.

I liked him too, but my feelings were wrapped in insecurity and sensitivity. I was always cautious and afraid of losing my family and the warmth of the life I had.

But Miriam and Osbert Estrada—my adoptive parents—didn't care about any of that; they tacitly accepted our feelings for each other.

"Dana is beautiful and accomplished, the perfect daughter-in-law. We couldn't ask for a better match for Byron!"

Miriam would hug me, her eyes full of warmth.

We were childhood sweethearts, and loving him had become ingrained in my life.

We were the perfect couple in school, two years apart. When Byron was about to graduate, he promised me that he would marry me in the grandest wedding.

And he kept his word. In my sophomore year, we got engaged.

Byron and I became the most romantic fairy tale in Dystenia, and the media couldn't get enough of us.

"Mr. Estrada, we hear Ms. Frost is your adoptive sister. Were your parents against your relationship?"

"We hear Ms. Frost's family and the Estradas have a long history—was your relationship based on that family connection?"

Byron's arm was around my shoulders, his hand warm and firm.

"First of all, Dana and I are together because we love each other deeply. Secondly, if you only have stupid questions like that, you might as well shut up."

At that time, we were truly in love, never imagining that one day we'd be hurting each other like we were now.

The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts—it was the hospital.

A bad feeling gripped me, and I pressed the answer button.

"Dr. Frost, Bibi's condition has worsened. We're trying to stabilize her—please hurry!"

The nurse's voice was frantic.

My mind went blank. I rushed up from the floor and bolted for the door, but the noise behind me faded into a distant buzz in my ears.

I stumbled into the hospital room, and the sight of doctors crowding around the bed made my heart race.

"Bibi! Bibi!"

I rushed to her side, panic rising. Bibi's eyes were shut, her long lashes resting on her eyelids, making her look as if she were peacefully asleep.

I had always called her the most beautiful little princess...

But my little princess no longer responded to my calls.

"Dr. Frost, you know how lethal leukemia is in children. You've seen this before. I'm really sorry."

One of my colleagues placed a hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

I touched Bibi's soft face, remembering how she'd never cried during her treatments. Even when her eyes were red from pain, she would tell me, "Mom, don't be sad. It doesn't hurt."

When her leukemia kept coming back, Bibi once said to me, "Mom, if I die, you can have another baby and forget about me. Don't be sad."

Was it then that Bibi knew? Did she feel death coming? Did she suffer when she passed? Was she scared without me by her side?

My hand brushed against my bag, and I felt something sticky. The strawberry ice cream had melted. My Bibi would never come back.

I collapsed over her bed, crying, my heart breaking.

A vast wave of sorrow engulfed me, and everything around me spun before I lost consciousness.