On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband, Michael Hudson, brought his pregnant secretary home.

With a breezy tone, he laid out a few instructions, like he was discussing the weather.

“Daniela is picky with food. From now on, every meal needs to be different.”

“She’s timid and can’t sleep alone, so pack your things and move to the guest room.”

Without bothering to respond, I picked up the suitcase I had already prepared and walked calmly toward the door.

The housekeeper tried to stop me, but Michael let out a cold laugh.

“Let her throw her little tantrum. She’ll come crawling back in less than three days anyway.”

The moment he said it, the room erupted in laughter.

Right in front of me, they placed a two-million bet—betting I wouldn't even make it through the night before begging Michael to let me back in like a pathetic little lapdog.

But what they didn’t know was that a Maybach was already waiting for me outside.

This time, I was truly leaving.

——

Just as I stepped past the villa doors, Michael called out behind me.

“Ashlyn, leave your safety bracelet. Daniela’s been having nightmares lately, and she needs it more than you do.”

My body went stiff.

That bracelet was the only thing my parents left me.

As I faced him, Michael saw the redness in my eyes but remained indifferent.

“Name your price,” he said.

How much could nine years of groveling in a loveless marriage possibly be worth?

I didn’t bother calculating.

All I could remember was what happened the last time I refused to give Daniela my ski goggles—Michael stripped me bare and left me alone on the mountainside in the freezing cold.

Inhaling sharply, I unclasped the bracelet and placed it around Daniela’s wrist.

Then I told her gently, “May the child in your womb be safe and sound.”

Hearing that, Michael surprisingly offered me a sliver of dignity.

“Ashlyn, as long as you behave, my child will be your child too.”

The moment he finished speaking, the bracelet on Daniela’s wrist suddenly slipped and shattered on the floor.

A shard grazed her leg, drawing blood.

Michael rushed to scoop her into his arms, holding her like a fragile princess.

He barked at the housekeeper to call the family doctor.

The urgency in his voice made everyone look at me with mocking eyes.

And honestly, I found it laughable as well.

Last night, when I had a heart attack, Michael was on his way out to stargaze with Daniela.

Even as I collapsed, frothing at the mouth, he didn’t flinch—just stepped right over me.

Before I blacked out, I heard him tell the housekeeper, “Disinfect the whole living room. Daniela is coming home tomorrow, I don’t want her to smell anything foul.”

Gripping the handle of my suitcase, I turned to leave again.

But he grabbed my wrist, staring at me coldly. “Apologize.”

“Wha—”

Before I could even speak, he yanked me down, forcing me to kneel in front of Daniela.

My knees scraped against the shards of jade, leaving blood stains on the pale floor.

Seeing the mess, Michael released me with a look of disgust.

“You broke her bracelet on purpose and injured her. Don’t you think an apology is the least you owe her?”

Since marrying Michael, “I’m sorry” had become my most-used phrase.

The soup I cooked was too bland, so I apologized.

Worried that he might feel uncomfortable after drinking, I sent him a message, disrupting his peace. I apologized again.

I stumbled upon a text from Daniela, inviting him to a hotel. And once more, I found myself saying, "I'm truly sorry for invading your privacy..."

With blood in my mouth and pain in my bones, I straightened up, resigned.

Bowing 180 degrees to Daniela, I offered three deep apologies.

Then I looked at Michael with cold, empty eyes.

“Is that enough?” I quietly asked.

His chest rose sharply, eyes fixed on the blood at the corner of my lips.

“Ashlyn,” he sneered, “Your precious old man isn't here to protect you anymore. Who are you pretending to be so pitiful for?”

Before I could answer, the family doctor arrived.

Brushing past me like I didn’t exist, Michael led him straight to Daniela’s side.

While Michael’s world revolved entirely around Daniela, I walked swiftly out the door.

I had barely stepped outside the villa when—a car horn sounded twice.

Beep—beep!

I saw a silver sedan parked just beyond the iron gate and quickened my pace, hope rising in my chest.

But before the gate could open, two bodyguards emerged from the shadows.

They grabbed me roughly and dragged me back into the villa.

Inside the study, Michael had me tightly bound, arms restrained behind my back.

Without warning, he ordered someone to drive a needle—thick as a child’s arm—into my vein.

From behind the half-open door, I heard the doctor speaking nervously.

“Mr. Hudson, although both Madam and Miss Daniela have RH-negative blood, Madam has a long history of heart disease. Forcing a blood draw could trigger acute shock. I really think we should go to the hospital and—”

“No need to persuade me.” Michael’s voice was icy. “Your only job is to make sure Daniela gets better. I’ll handle everything else.”

I heard his footsteps approaching, and slowly closed my eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

His tone, for once, carried a trace of gentleness.

“Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.”

I turned my head away, unwilling to waste a single word on him.

By the time they had drawn 800cc of blood, my lips were already turning purple.

Just then, a faint cough echoed from the master bedroom—it was Daniela.

Upon hearing it, Michael immediately pushed the doctor’s hand aside and ordered him to draw blood twice as much.

The doctor, drenched in cold sweat, warned him again, “If I continued, Madam could die.”

Michael paused for only two seconds before replying coldly, “Daniela is pregnant, and the baby comes first.”

“But—”

Without hesitation, I interrupted the doctor. “Just do it. But after this, let me go.”

Looking at my bloodless face, Michael’s eyes flashed with cold fury.

He opened his mouth to scold me, ready to ask if I’d had enough of this childish tantrum, if I was really going to abandon our home over something so trivial—

Then Daniela’s delicate voice rant from the bedroom. “Michael...”

And just like that, he left me behind.

—

Two days later.

I woke up in a hospital room, still weak from the shock.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw Michael sitting at the side table, flipping through documents.

Our eyes locked for a long moment.

Expressionless, he picked up a bowl of porridge and moved to feed me.

I shook my head. “I’ll do it myself.”

He said nothing, just watched me quietly as I ate half the bowl.

Then he asked, “Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

I didn’t answer the question and said, “Please give me my phone.”

Perhaps my tone was too distant because he froze for several seconds before calling the housekeeper to bring it over.

As I checked my phone, I noticed numerous missed calls.

“Who’s been calling you?” Michael’s voice cut in suddenly.

He never used to ask questions like this.

A hint of annoyance flitted through my eyes.

“Someone you don’t know,” I replied flatly.

He unfastened the top button of his shirt, leaning over me with a cold gaze.

“Ashlyn, how long do you plan to keep up this spoiled act?”

“I give you an inch and you want the whole mile?”

In the past, whenever he got angry, I’d rush to reflect on my mistakes—try to soothe him, fix things, make peace.

But now?

I simply pointed to his buzzing phone and said, without emotion, “It’s Daniela.”

The moment her name left my lips, Michael's expression softened with a hint of a smile.

Without another glance at me, he stepped into the corridor to take her call.

As soon as he left, my phone rang.

Taking a deep breath, I answered the call.

Before I could say anything, the voice on the other end broke through, anxious and urgent.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet me? Ashlyn, did you change your mind?”

“No... I didn’t. Something just came up,” I said.

“Something came up? What happened? No, this won’t do—I’m coming back. I’m flying home myself!”

I cut off the person on the phone, my voice quiet as I lowered my gaze and pressed my lips together.

“Just give me a few more days. That’s all I ask.”

When Michael returned to the hospital ward, I had just ended the call.

Noticing the faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips—a smile he hadn’t seen in a long time—something in his chest twisted uncomfortably.

But he had just promised Daniela he’d be home soon to sing lullabies for her and the baby.

So, he didn’t have time to ask who I’d been talking to.

He assumed it was probably my cousin—the only female relative still in contact with me since we got married. After all, I no longer had any friends of my own.

Without turning back, he gathered his files and said coldly, “Ashlyn, something cropped up at the office. I’ll come again tomorrow.”

In the blink of an eye, tomorrow had passed and the day after.

And the day after that—he never showed up.

Instead, thanks to mutual acquaintances, I kept receiving videos of him and Daniela.

He took her to dinner, at galas.

He looked like a giddy young boy in love, showing her off to everyone like she was the greatest prize.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Michael posted a nine-grid photo on his social media.

In the golden hues of sunset, he stood on a romantic hot air balloon platform, gently cupping Daniela’s rosy cheeks as they kissed passionately.

I left a comment.

[Wishing you two a lifetime of love, and a healthy baby on the way.]

Ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was Michael.

I didn’t pick up.

Thirty minutes after that, I finished the discharge process alone.

And just as I walked past the OB-GYN department, I saw Michael, and beside him was Daniela.

I overheard a young nurse at the consultation desk say sweetly to Daniela.

“Mrs. Hudson, your husband really adores you. He comes with you every time, and even warms the ultrasound gel himself so you won’t feel cold during the checkup.”

The surrounding pregnant women looked at her with open admiration.

My hand moved subconsciously to my stomach.

I remembered...

There had been a child here once.

On the day of the car accident, I suffered a miscarriage due to blood loss. I cried while making a video call to Michael.

But all I saw was a naked Daniela on the screen, smiling as she said, “Mrs. Hudson, your husband lost a game to me, so as punishment, he’s currently tied to the bed. Is there something you need from him?”

I said nothing and hung up.

Not even a minute passed before Michael called back.

Holding a teary-eyed, wronged-looking Daniela in his arms, he exploded at me.

“You’re so petty and pathetic, Ashlyn. Always making trouble!”

And then, with disgust in his voice, he added, “You couldn’t even hold on to your own baby. What can someone like you possibly do right?”

“Honestly, I wish that truck had finished the job and killed you.”

Snapping back to the present, I was about to take a detour and walk away— but Michael walked toward me with that cold expression and snapped, “Why are you just standing there like an idiot?”

Startled, I instinctively tried to explain. “I wasn’t following you. I really just ran into you by coincidence. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Wait.”

He frowned, and at the sound of that single word, I caught the flicker of jealousy in Daniela’s eyes.

She clutched his arm a little tighter and smiled at me sweetly. “Mrs. Hudson, thank you again for the blood donation. Without you, I’d still be so dizzy today. You saved me and my baby!”

“Michael, won’t you bring Mrs. Hudson home with us? Please?”

Michael dotingly tapped the tip of her nose and gently replied, “My sweet angel, whatever you say goes.”

Since I had to return to the house to gather my things anyway, I didn’t refuse Daniela’s “kindness.”

Inside the spacious black car, silence hung heavily—until, as if right on cue, I spotted something wedged between the seat cushions.

A pair of still-damp lace panties.

“Oh my!” Daniela gasped. “How did that end up here?”

“Michael, didn’t you say you took care of it already?”