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."

My nails dug deep into my palms, sharp enough to break skin. The pain made my fingers tremble, yet it still wasn't as suffocating as the weight crushing my heart.

Sebastian had always wanted to clear out Jacob's room as soon as possible, saying it hurt him to look at it.

But I stopped him, again and again.

Because that room... was the last trace of our son's life—the only place in this house where I could still feel him.

But now, even that final piece of him is being casually erased by others.

Sebastian clearly expected me to argue with him like before, to fight tooth and nail to keep our child's room intact. He was already bracing himself.

But instead, as if I had become someone completely different, I simply nodded and said calmly, "Alright. I was planning to tidy up anyway. I might as well clear everything out."

Only by severing every memory in that room can I leave this "home" I've been guarding with my whole heart—without looking back.

The moment I said that, Sebastian froze, as if all his prepared arguments had nowhere to go.

Sabrina immediately chimed in, voice dripping with sweetness. "Madam is really so considerate. I was afraid I'd trouble you."

I didn't even bother looking at her. I just moved faster, my breaths turning cold and hollow.

One by one, I folded Jacob's drawings, his toys, his tiny shoes. I held each item to my chest, as if I were holding a child I would never get back.

By the time I closed the lid on the last box, my chest felt empty, carved clean.

I forced myself to lift the suitcase and dragged it toward the door.

My vision blurred.

My steps faltered.

Crack.

The dull, sickening sound of glass piercing flesh echoed sharply in my ears.

Agonizing pain shot up from my foot like electricity.

My knees buckled, my whole body trembling from spine to fingertips. Tears spilled before I could stop them.

I clung to the doorframe, cold sweat sliding down my neck.

But upstairs, Sebastian and Sabrina's laughter floated down effortlessly.

"The light on this balcony is great."

"President Mitchell, your study is so spacious..."

His study—the place where he snapped at me every time I stepped inside.

So someone else could waltz in effortlessly, welcomed, and praised.

As long as it wasn't me, it seemed even a woman who looked nothing like my sister—nothing like his past—could easily earn his gentleness, his attention, his preference.

My vision turned hazy.

Only when my blood had soaked half the floor did I drag the box to the living room and sit down. I dabbed at my wound with tissues, each touch painful enough to shake my hand.

A while later, Sebastian finally came downstairs.

His gaze swept through the now-emptied child's room. His brows knitted.

"Why did you clear it out so thoroughly?"

As if he found the emptiness... strange and unsettling.

I lowered my head. "You said it was an eyesore."

He paused but didn't respond to that. Instead, he said, "Later, go buy a new bedding set and cushions. Sabrina is a pampered young lady—not like you. She can't sleep on the things you buy."

Blood was literally pooling beneath my feet, yet he didn't spare me even a glance.

In his eyes, I never deserved the best. But Sabrina... by simply standing beside him—deserved everything.

I silently applied medicine, ignoring him. My silence made Sebastian finally sense something was off.

He stared at me for a long time before speaking, "Why aren't you responding? Oh right—I forgot to tell you. The day after tomorrow, come with me to a fragrance gala."

I didn't want to go.

Before I could even respond, he snapped at me coldly. "You're my wife. If you don't attend, you'll embarrass me. People will start speculating about our marriage. How am I supposed to explain that?"

On hearing that, I swallowed every refusal.

Fine.

I'll treat it as the last occasion I attend as his wife before the divorce—

a beginning and an end.

Besides, I need to find a reliable partner for the future. I can't just bring back anyone to meet my father.

On the day of the banquet, the wound on my foot had barely scabbed over. Every step felt like my shoe was slicing into the flesh again.

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Sabrina walked ahead, hand in hand, their steps brisk and light—never once slowing down for me.

Watching their backs felt like watching seven years of my own stupidity.

The banquet hall glowed under warm lights. Perfumers and collectors from major fragrance families mingled.

Someone spotted Sebastian from afar and approached cheerfully. "President Mitchell, long time no see."

Then the man's gaze shifted toward Sabrina. His smile brightened. "And this must be Mrs. Mitchell? Her taste is exquisite—and what a beautiful presence."

He was a senior expert in the industry, known for sharp accuracy.

Sebastian hesitated, not correcting him immediately.

Sabrina's cheeks turned beet-red. "Oh no, I'm just President Mitchell's secretary. How could I be the Madam..."

The man blinked. "Secretary? But the scent you're wearing—cold wood base with a hint of clean leather and the faintest soap note... This ratio is extremely rare."

He clicked his tongue appreciatively. "This fragrance is gentle, clean, yet carries a subtle, falling-in-love warmth. Very romantic. Didn't President Mitchell create it as a personal blend for his wife?"

Only then did his gaze land on me.

He sniffed lightly, then raised his brows, "Don't tell me that cheap roadside perfume clinging to this lady... is something President Mitchell created?"