Six months after my younger sister passed away, I became her stand-in and married her fiancé, Sebastian.

Seven years into the marriage, just as I finally managed to conceive our second child, I made up my mind to divorce him.

"Ms. Young, are you sure you don't want to reconsider?" the divorce lawyer asked cautiously.

Back then, I agreed to take my sister's place because of her dying wish. "Sister... please give Sebastian a child for me. I'm afraid he'll forget me."

I carried that promise for years—even as I hid a truth too shameful to admit. There was a secret buried deep in my heart—I had fallen for Sebastian long before my sister ever did.

For seven years, I willingly lived as her substitute. Even when the orphanage director who raised us cut ties with me, calling me shameless, I never regretted it. I even bore Sebastian a child, but he died of leukemia when the hospital supposedly made a fatal mistake and missed the transplant window.

At least, that was what I had always believed... until I caught Sebastian cheating.

On our seventh wedding anniversary—the same day I tested positive for my second pregnancy—and the day I caught him with his secretary.

I heard him say, unmistakably. "How's Jacob's bone marrow working for you? That idiot Lorelei still thinks the mix-up at the hospital was an accident. Tsk. Pathetic."

"Does she really think I'd let a substitute for a dead woman give birth to my child? What a bad omen."

It turned out that while I was pouring everything I had into creating a family, he had secretly given our dying child's life-saving bone marrow to his mistress—and tampered with my medication to destroy my health and stop me from getting pregnant.

Years of love... Seven years of marriage. And in one moment, it all turned to ash.

I told the lawyer quietly, "Go ahead. I've made up my mind."

I always knew Sebastian didn't love me. I was the greedy one—borrowing seven years of marriage under the excuse of fulfilling my sister's wish, foolishly hoping time and devotion could change him.

I could endure being unloved. But what I couldn't forgive was hearing him call my sister a "bad-luck dead woman." What I couldn't accept was knowing he personally caused our child's death.

After leaving the law firm, I called my biological father—the richest man in the city—who had come to acknowledge me a month ago, but whom I had rejected.

"Dad," I said calmly, "I've made up my mind. Once the divorce is finalized in seven days, I'll come home and inherit the family estate."

——

"Did that man bully you?"

My father's usually calm voice carried a rare edge of anger.

I bit my lip. The sudden, unconditional protectiveness in his tone made my chest tighten. I couldn't hold back the lump in my throat. "Dad... I'm just tired."

On the phone, his deep voice softened. "Come home. Dad will always have your back. Whatever decision you make, I'll support you."

When the call ended, I sat in silence, my emotions tangled.

Just a month ago, my biological father—the richest man in the city had finally found me. Back then, I refused to return to my birth family. After all, I was already married, and I thought I already had my own home.

To me, Sebastian, whom I had known for nearly ten years, felt far more familiar than the parents I had only just met.

And... my sister was gone.

The thought of going back to that magnificent home on my own would be unfair to my younger sister.

Besides, my biological parents never approved of Sebastian. They constantly belittled him, urging me to leave him. At the time, clueless about the truth, I resisted them. Their sudden reappearance and strictness felt suffocating.

So I didn't tell Sebastian I had found my family. I simply supported him quietly—investing behind the scenes, helping him close a fragrance partnership with my family's business.

But looking back now, I realize I was only fooling myself.

Soon, none of it would matter.

I tore the pregnancy report into pieces and dropped it into the trash just as the front door opened. Sebastian returned from work.

His suit was neatly pressed, the faint scent of cologne clinging to him. Everything about him looked the same as always.

"Wife, don't cook tonight. I'll take care of dinner."

Sebastian didn't even notice my swollen eyes. He simply took off his jacket and headed toward the kitchen.

He was in his thirties, yet maintained a broad-shouldered, lean figure—no less attractive than younger men.

A few months ago, he suddenly developed an interest in cooking. A man who hadn't stepped into a kitchen in seven years began preparing meals.

He said he wanted to ease my burden.

And I believed him.

So no matter what he made, I always finished every bite. But now I knew the truth—he learned to cook for Sabrina, the delicate heiress who willingly worked at his side as his secretary.

His mistress.

"Wife, have some shrimp. I went all the way to the market for these. I remember shrimp is your favorite."

At the dinner table, he smiled as he placed a piece of shrimp into my bowl.

I was quiet, but he didn't notice anything off. In his eyes, my emotions had always been insignificant, barely noticeable.

Seven years of unconditional devotion had convinced him I would never be angry... and would certainly never leave.

I stared at the shrimp without touching it.

Shrimp had always been my sister's favorite. Not mine.

Seven years ago, six months after my sister died of cancer, I married Sebastian.

Everyone who heard the news called me shameless—accusing me of stealing my sister's love, climbing up by taking her place.

They didn't know the truth.

That my terminally ill sister had once knelt on her hospital bed, clutching my hand in tears. "Sister... Sebastian can't live without me. Please... marry him for me. Take care of him."

"And if you can... give him a child. Only then... can I leave without regrets."

At that moment, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.

She never knew that I had loved Sebastian long before she did. But she said it first. So I buried my feelings deep and never spoke a word.

"Sister... he's the only one besides you who's ever treated me well. I don't want him to forget me."

Her desperate plea had taken the air from my lungs.

Maybe it was my hidden love. Maybe it was the soft spot I had for a sister who was fading away.

Either way, I agreed to her unreasonable request.

The day after her funeral, the heartbroken Sebastian got drunk. When I went to pick him up, he mistook me for her—dragging me to bed for a long, painful night.

Tearing, discomfort... my first time was spent in agony.

The next morning, he woke up and cursed me—calling me shameless, disgusting for getting into his bed when my sister's body was barely cold.

Swallowing my grief, I told him I was willing to be her substitute.

At first, he treated me terribly. In his eyes, I was a vile woman who seduced her dead sister's boyfriend. He only touched me when he was drunk.

But because I persisted, he slowly softened. Within six months, we registered our marriage.

Years passed, and we even had a child.

I thought, at the very least, I had a small place in his heart.

But he still remembered only my sister's preferences—not mine.

When I didn't eat, he frowned but didn't think much of it. He simply moved the shrimp into my bowl and began packing shrimp porridge into containers.

"Wife, my employees are still working overtime. I'll bring them some food. I'll sleep at the office tonight—don't wait for me."

If it were before, I wouldn't think there was anything wrong, I would only think he was considerate of his subordinates. But now, I immediately thought of Sabrina. I remembered visiting his office once, only to find her there with stomach pains—and Sebastian fussing over her.

And around that time... he had suddenly begun learning how to cook.

Realization spread through my chest like a blade twisting slowly.

I took a deep breath, pulled out the divorce papers, and set them on the table.

"Sign this before you go."

Sebastian frowned. "Didn't we agree not to talk business at home?"

He was just about to read the document closely when a phone call cut him off.

Even though he hung up quickly, I had already seen the caller ID—Sabrina.

He set the papers aside, grabbed the containers of porridge, and headed for the door.

I tugged on the hem of his shirt. "You haven't signed the documents."

I had never spoken to him so firmly before. My sudden insistence annoyed him, and guilt flickered briefly across his expression. With a click of his tongue, he flipped straight to the last page, scrawled his signature, and tossed the papers into my arms.

"Such a hassle. There—you happy? If you have any small business deals, just use my seal directly. Anything under a million is yours to play with."

Before I could respond, his phone rang again. He grabbed the porridge and rushed out, answering the call as he walked.

I looked at the messy dining table—everything half-eaten, half-packed—and let out a bitter laugh.

If he cared about me even a little, he would have noticed that the document he just signed was a divorce agreement.

But he didn't notice anything.

He didn't even hesitate to take Sabrina's call while I was standing right there—afraid she might wait for even a second.

I boiled myself a bowl of noodles. The rising steam blurred my vision.

After eating, I mailed the divorce agreement to my lawyer. Then I called the assistant my father arranged for me.

"A week from now," I reminded her softly, "my father said he would sign the fragrance-ceremony collaboration with the Mitchell family, right?"

"Yes, Miss Young."

"Tell my father the collaboration with Sebastian is canceled. But the ceremony will continue—only the partner will be announced live, by me."

The assistant hesitated, but soon replied, "Understood."

"Also... book me an abortion surgery."

There was a pause. But she didn't question me.

I placed a trembling hand on my lower abdomen—where a tiny life had just been lost.

My sister and I grew up depending on each other. We always dreamed of having a child, a family of our own.

I knew that after terminating this pregnancy, with my damaged health, I might never conceive again.

But I didn't regret it.

I would have a family now—my father, my mother. I didn't need to cling to Sebastian anymore. And I didn't want to bring a child into the world carrying his face.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door to my deceased son's room.

I wanted to tidy up his things.

But the moment I saw his little clothes, I collapsed to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

When I became pregnant with Jacob, I thought I finally saw hope. I had fulfilled my sister's last wish. I believed I had gained my husband's love.

Maybe, after that, I could finally become myself, not just "my sister's shadow."

But perhaps it was heaven punishing me.

Our first child—my sweet Jacob—was diagnosed with aplastic anemia.

The doctors said his only hope was a bone marrow transplant.

I waited for five long years.

For five years, I begged every hospital, donated every cent I could, praying that somewhere—anywhere—there was a matching donor.

Then one day, the hospital finally called. They had found a match.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I knelt to thank the donor's family and repeatedly confirmed with the hospital that everything would proceed smoothly.

But in the end... my son died on the operating table.

Sebastian told me the bone marrow donation paperwork had issues. The hospital didn't have time to verify it, so the marrow was allocated to someone else.

That delay... cost my child his life.

I believed him.

I blamed myself endlessly for not double-checking everything. I lived in guilt and grief for years.

I thought it was fate. A cruel coincidence. That perhaps Jacob and I simply didn't have enough time together.

But the truth... The truth was a serrated blade, ripping me apart.

This morning, when I discovered I was pregnant again, I was ecstatic.

After confirming the baby was healthy, I rushed to the company parking lot, wanting to surprise him.

But when I opened his car door, the first thing I saw was a half-opened box of condoms tossed on the passenger-side floor mat.

My hands went numb. My mind blanked.

And then I heard laughter.

At the parking lot entrance, I watched helplessly as Sebastian wrapped one arm around Sabrina's waist, the other hand cradling the back of her head, kissing her deeply.

She giggled breathlessly. "Seb... someone might see..."

He chuckled. "So what? We haven't done it in so long. Don't you miss me? By the way, how's Jacob's bone marrow settling in your body?"

The world spun violently around me.

Not only was he cheating...

But his words—Jacob's bone marrow... in her body?

What did he mean?

Sabrina smiled coquettishly. "Perfectly fused. I heard you even gave the doctor two million to keep quiet. You're so generous."

He stroked her hair, his voice gentle. "It's nothing. A sickly child from a woman I don't love will never be as important as you."

My heart clenched so hard I couldn't breathe.

So the one bone marrow match that could have saved Jacob had been stolen by him. And he gave it to her!

Sabrina asked sweetly, "If she gets pregnant again, would it affect our baby's status?"

He sneered, "No. I already made arrangements. The vitamins and supplements she takes—I replaced them. She can't get pregnant."

She pouted. "Poor her... If she learns the truth, wouldn't she want to die?"

"How could she?" Sebastian laughed coldly. "She's an orphan. No one would marry her except me. She should be grateful I give her a roof over her head. Why would she still dream of having a child to tie me down?"

My right hand trembled violently—a side effect of the countless hormone injections I had endured. I remembered all the bitter pills I swallowed, all the mornings I forced myself to smile in the mirror, all the needles I stabbed into my own skin trying to conceive.

I blamed myself. I doubted my own body. Never once did I imagine he was the one sabotaging me.

He never intended for me to bear his child.

Outside the car window, the two of them pressed against his luxury Maybach, tangled together. The sound of their gasps, the rustle of clothes, the slap of skin against the car—It all blurred into the most sickening nightmare of my life.

Remembering everything from that day feels like being thrown into an ice cave—my breath caught, my chest tightening until it hurts to breathe.

I'm going to be divorced soon.

That thought kept crashing through my mind, over and over again, as if forcing me to stay awake... to stay sane.

Soon, whoever Sebastian wanted to sleep with, he could sleep with. Whoever he wanted to protect, coax, or spoil... None of it would have anything to do with me anymore.

My fingers trembled as I covered my eyes.

The biggest mistake of my life wasn't marrying a man who never loved me—it was destroying myself for him. Draining every last bit of my strength to prove something he never cared to see. Grinding my bones down until there was nothing left.

Aggrieved, hollow, ashamed—each emotion pricked my heart like a hundred needles.

Tears blurred my vision as I knelt down and began packing Jacob's things.

His tiny jacket, his little socks. The milk bottle he used to bite on. The messy little cards he drew with his crayons...

Each item I placed in the box felt like carving a piece of flesh out of my own body.

"Mommy... Jacob likes Mommy the most... Mommy should smile more, okay?" His soft little voice still echoed in my ears.

He couldn't even form full sentences back then, yet right before surgery, he would wipe my tears with his warm little hands, comforting me with his clumsy words.

"Mommy don't cry... baby not pain... Mommy hug..."

But that sweet, sensible child—he would never walk out of that operating room again. Never run into my arms again.

How could Sebastian be so cruel? How could he bear to let our child die alone?

Jacob could have lived!

Just a little more—if only the bone marrow that belonged to him hadn't been stolen…

I cover my mouth, choking on a sob as pain tears through my chest.

Just as I wiped away my tears, the bedroom door suddenly clicked open. I snapped the suitcase shut and quickly wiped my face.

Sebastian steps in, taking off his coat. His brows knitted as he looked at me. "Wife, what are you doing?"

I forced my stiff lips into a smile. "Didn't you say... you weren't coming back tonight? I'm just clearing out some old things."

Before my voice even faded, a sharp, coquettish voice cut in, "Oh my, President Mitchell, even with your wife at home, the place still looks so messy?"

Sabrina strutted in on high heels, her gaze sweeping over me like a scanning beam, slow and mocking.

Then she brushed past me casually, as if this were her house.

A beat later, she let out a high-pitched shriek of surprise. "President Mitchell! I didn't know you had something so cute at home!"

She lunged toward the giant teddy bear in the corner—the one I hand-stitched while pregnant with Jacob. The one that accompanied him through countless painful nights.

Her movement was too rough; her shoulder knocked straight into the photo frame beside the door—the one containing the only family photo we had.

Crack!

As glass shattered across the floor, my heart shattered with it.

It was the only wedding photo we had taken after Jacob was born. He stood between us in a tiny suit, smiling with innocent joy.

That day, Sebastian held my hand and promised he would protect me and our child.

It was the only thing we had that felt remotely meaningful.

And now it lay broken on the floor—just like this family.

Sabrina gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. "Ah! Madam won't be mad, right? I didn't mean to... If you feel bad, I can pay—"

She didn't even finish before Sebastian rushed to her side, grabbing her arm and checking her for injuries.

"Are you hurt? Did you bump yourself? Be careful."

Only when he confirmed she was fine did he exhale in relief. His voice softened, so tender it felt foreign. "As long as you're fine, that's alright. It's just a piece of paper. Why would you compensate?"

I stare at the shattered pieces on the floor, my chest tightening painfully.

So in his eyes... those days, those memories...were nothing more than a worthless piece of paper.

Clenching my fist, I steadied my voice. "It's fine. If it's broken, it's broken."

Sebastian paused—clearly not expecting me to be so "sensible."

Sabrina blinked, displeasure flashing in her eyes, apparently displeased that I didn't fall into her trap. She had been expecting me to explode.

But no matter how much I cared about that photo, more than anything... I wanted to claw out the bone marrow inside her. The marrow that should have saved my son. However, I knew that was impossible.

With a sugary smile hiding sharp edges, she said, "President Mitchell, did you forget to tell your wife why I'm here?"

Her "reminder" jogged his memory. He turned to me, speaking as if it were natural, logical, unquestionable. "Lorelei, clear out Jacob's room. Sabrina fought with her family and has nowhere to stay. She's my secretary—I can't just throw her out. She'll temporarily stay in Jacob's room."