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?"

Facing the senior perfumer's half-joking question, Sebastian simply smiled.

"The scent on my secretary is one of my blends. A practice piece I'm pretty satisfied with."

He didn't mention the perfume on me at all. Perhaps he was afraid that others would think he had terrible taste.

I lowered my gaze, forcing a weak smile.

Back then, for my sister, Sebastian stayed up three nights straight, creating the first perfume of his life just for her.

That perfume held the softest part of him, the pure devotion of his youth.

My sister had held that bottle like a priceless treasure. She even sprayed some on my wrist, grinning brightly. "Sis, smell it! Isn't it lovely? My boyfriend made it just for me!"

I smiled and said yes, it was lovely, and yes, I envied her.

But the truth was—I never envied the perfume. I envied the position of being cherished, chosen, held tenderly in someone's palm.

And me?

It wasn't until our fourth year of marriage that Sebastian finally gave me a "perfume."

For an event like tonight, I couldn't possibly show up wearing nothing. So I had carefully taken out that bottle—the only one I felt presentable—and checked the scent over and over before coming.

Who would've thought... The perfume he gave me was a cheap roadside knockoff.

Absurd. Ridiculous.

The wife of a renowned master perfumer... wearing a perfume that smelled like fifty cents at a street corner.

While his secretary wore a fragrance handcrafted with devotion and romance.

Sebastian didn't spare me a glance, nor did he notice my expression. Soon, he and Sabrina were immersed in business matters I had never been allowed to touch.

He was the one who insisted I accompany him—yet at this moment, I was nothing but a decorative vase left in the corner.

And Sabrina, with her effortless grace, looked more like his wife than I ever did.

The crowd buzzed with conversation and lights, but dizziness overwhelmed me. My stomach churned violently.

I hurried to the restroom, gripping the sink as my breaths came fast—like someone drowning, desperately gasping for air.

This pregnancy was hitting harder than the first.

Maybe this child also sensed that neither of his parents wanted him.

When I finally calmed down, I splashed cold water on my face and turned to leave—but froze the moment I stepped into the hallway.

A small boy, maybe three or four, stumbled across the carpet and ran forward.

"Daddy!"

Sebastian paused—then opened his arms.

The boy threw himself into his chest, giggling sweetly. "Daddy, hug!"

Sabrina followed beside them, smiling as she straightened the boy's collar. "Don't make trouble. Daddy still has work."

Sebastian crouched down, gently smoothing the boy's hair. His voice was soft. "Alright, no fussing. Why did you come find Daddy today?"

The child pouted adorably. "I missed you, Daddy."

I stood frozen. Something lodged painfully in my throat.

The "baby" Sabrina mentioned earlier... I didn't think much of it. I thought she meant a future child.

I never imagined... They already had one.

And he was three or four years old.

Which meant—back when Jacob was at his worst... Back when I was kneeling outside hospital doors, begging doctors, crying myself hoarse every night holding my dying child—Sabrina had been pregnant with Sebastian's baby, close to delivery.

While I drowned in grief over my son's death, Sebastian had already welcomed a new heir.

And to protect that child's inheritance, he had drugged me.

Cold spread down my spine, heavy and suffocating.

He lifted the boy onto his shoulders, making him laugh gleefully. The child's legs kicked in excitement as he patted his father's hair.

It was warm, and soft. A picture-perfect moment.

But to me, it was blinding.

Jacob used to want nothing more than a hug from his father.

But Sebastian only frowned. "Boys shouldn't cling so much."

He couldn't even spare five minutes of patience. To him, Jacob had been nothing but a sick burden.

But this child—this child was his treasured jewel.

My tears spilled before I could wipe them away.

I hadn't even processed the scene when a hand yanked me backward—vicious, forceful.

"Well, well. Where'd this pretty thing come from? Crying so sweetly. Come play with me."

A drunken man dragged me into the restroom, reeking of alcohol, his arm clamping around my waist.

"Let me go!" My voice shook with fear, but my cries were swallowed by the distant laughter in the corridor.

"Sebastian... Sebastian, help me!"

Even now—even now, my instinct was to call for him.

I saw his broad back pause for half a second. But then he simply smiled and continued teasing the child.

"Help me... please..." My voice cracked, drowning in desperation.

A filthy hand clamped over my mouth.

Not far away, Sabrina glanced back at me.

She smiled. Then turned away, ignoring me completely as she walked off with Sebastian.

I struggled wildly—digging my nails into the drunkard's skin, kicking, thrashing—but he was too strong.

"That's what you get for offending someone," he slurred, fingers reaching for my skirt.

I could smell the nauseating alcohol against my collarbone.

Just as I prepared to fight to the death...

"Get your hands off her! Do you know where you are?!"

A cold, furious voice cut through the air.

The next second, the man was yanked away from me and slammed against the wall.

A tall man stood before me—sharp features, pale skin like porcelain, eyes blazing with anger. "Are you alright?"

My legs gave out.

I collapsed to the floor, breath shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down my face.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came. I could only tremble and shake my head.

He didn't ask more.

He simply removed his coat, placed it underneath me, and handed me a clean handkerchief.

"The lounge is next door. I'll help you there."

He nearly carried me inside.

After the door closed, he didn't stay.

He left me alone—giving me space to breathe.

I buried my face in the handkerchief he left behind, and sobbed until my chest hurt.

Not only did Sebastian have a new family... He could be so gentle with someone else's child.

If Jacob had lived, would he also have wished... to be held high like that?

The thought crushed me. My chest ached until I could barely breathe.

And remembering what the drunkard said, I realized—Sabrina ignoring me wasn't an accident.

She arranged this. She wanted to ruin me.

Just then, my phone vibrated, and a message from the assistant flashed on the screen.

[Miss, the abortion surgery has been scheduled. You can come anytime.]

My fingers trembled around the device.

I touched my stomach—there was still a life inside me. But I could no longer carry anything tied to Sebastian.

I stood up, wiped my tears, and clenched the handkerchief tightly.

No more looking back.

I left the hall, called a car, and went straight to the hospital.

Outside the operating room, the doctor confirmed again. "After this procedure, your body... may not be able to conceive again. You must be absolutely sure."

I closed my eyes.

My voice was soft—but firm. "I won't regret it."

When I dragged my body home after the surgery, the anesthesia still hadn't fully worn off. My fingertips trembled uncontrollably with each step I took.

The moment I pushed the door open, a sweet, cloying fragrance rushed toward me—the scent Sabrina always wore.

She had deliberately filled the entire house with it, as if marking her territory… as if provoking me.

I had disappeared for an entire day, and Sebastian didn't even notice.

If he cared at all, he wouldn't have gone a whole day without a single call.

I let out a small, self-mocking laugh.

Of course—wasn't this the result I should have expected all along?

What right did I have to feel torn apart?

Sabrina sat on the sofa, leaning lazily against a pillow. She lifted her gaze, looking at me as though waiting to watch a good show.

"You're back so late?" Her voice was soft, but the tail end curled with mockery. "What, were you reluctant to leave that drunkard?"

I lifted my head, my eyes flat and emotionless. "It was arranged by you."

I didn't even bother to ask.

A faint crease appeared between her brows—clearly, my indifference disappointed her. She must have imagined me returning in utter humiliation, broken and weeping.

"Did that idiot take the money and do nothing?!" she muttered, irritation sharpening her tone.

Then she rose and glared down at me.

"So what if it was me? Do you think you can fight me? I was being kind, but you don't even appreciate it. Looks like I haven't taught you enough."

I stared at her, voice low and steady.

"Sabrina, you will pay the price."

Her smile froze for a split second.

Then she stepped closer and snapped, "Pay the price? Don't make me laugh! Do you, an orphan, understand what money and power mean? As long as I'm alive, no one can touch me! If I want to deal with you, you won't live to see tomorrow's sun!"

She sneered, her eyes gleaming with ridicule.

"Oh, I get it. You must be devastated after seeing the child between me and Sebastian, right? Seven years of pestering him, and you only managed to have one child—who was sickly, unlike my son, who's perfectly healthy."

My breath faltered.

Seeing my momentary shadow, Sabrina instantly lit up—as if she'd just won a game.

She leaned in, eyes sparkling with cruelty. "That's right."

She casually adjusted her rolled-up sleeves, then smiled as though remembering something amusing. "Didn't your son almost get matching bone marrow back then?"

My hand, still holding a towel, paused mid-air.

Her lips curled into a sweet, vicious arc.

"Tsk. And you begged on your knees for that match."

"Do you remember?" she drawled, shaking a teacup as if discussing something trivial. "I said I needed a bone marrow transplant. Sebastian was so terrified something would happen to me—"

"—that when I hinted at your son's bone marrow being compatible, he immediately altered the donation contract and listed me as the beneficiary."

My breath tightened painfully.

Even knowing the truth already, hearing it again felt like being stabbed all over.

My baby… because his father adored his mistress more than his own child… lost his only chance to live…

Sabrina laughed, mocking me as though I were some pathetic creature.

"And the funniest part?" she said lightly. "I didn't need it at all. I've always been perfectly healthy. I never needed any bone marrow transplant."

My voice trembled. "Then… that bone marrow—"

"Oh, it was annoying," she interrupted casually. "So I told the nurse to just throw it away."

Bang!

It felt as if someone had punched straight through my chest.

I stared at her, my voice hoarse. "What… did you say?"

Sabrina looked at the despair in my eyes and smiled even brighter. "I said—when your son was finally about to be saved, I threw the bone marrow away."

"Sabrina!"

I couldn't stop myself from crying out.

"Oh, you still have a temper? How laughable."

Half-reclining on the sofa, watching me like I was a clown.

"People like you from the orphanage have cheap lives. And your son? A commoner's brat. Was his life worth anything? Why be so dramatic? Dying early was a relief for him."

I stepped forward abruptly, pain tearing through my chest.

"That was a living child!"

She rolled her eyes with open disdain.

"He was just a burden. Better off dead. What, are you so angry you want to hit me?"

My whole body trembled.

And then she laughed.

"But you probably don't have the guts. You've lived your whole life as your sister's substitute, haven't you? Hahaha—"

The words felt like knives twisting in my heart.

"Sabrina," I forced out, my voice shaking, "insult my son or my sister one more time. Try it."

"What's wrong with calling the two of them what they were?" She grinned, her eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. "Dead trash."

Then she reached toward the Lego set on the coffee table.

The one Jacob and I spent the last three months of his life building together.

My voice shot up. "Sabrina, don't you—"

She hooked her finger under the corner of the Lego castle and chuckled.

"My favorite thing..."

"—is watching the heartbroken faces of people like you."

And with a sharp shove—

Crash!

The Lego fell to the floor, exploding into a thousand pieces.

For a moment, I saw my son's last breath shatter on an operating table.

A rush of heat surged from my ears to my skull.

I raised my hand—and slapped her across the face with all my strength.

At that moment, I only had one thought—I wanted to tear Sabrina apart.