"Ms. Chain, you're awake!" A nurse's voice pulled me out of unconsciousness.

"My baby..." I spoke with great effort.

"Congratulations! It's a boy. His condition is stable now, but the situation isn't optimistic. We'll need to monitor him closely," the nurse replied softly.

At that moment, the door to the hospital room gently opened, and Jeremy Glen, my bodyguard, walked in, his eyes filled with barely concealed sorrow.

"Mrs. Springton, you're awake," he greeted me in a low voice.

My heart clenched. "How are Dawson and Felicia? Are they okay?"

Jeremy's eyes turned red instantly. He shook his head. "Mr. and Mrs. Springton... couldn't make it."

My world collapsed in an instant. As if a boulder was crushing my chest, I couldn't breathe.

"What about Elson? Did he come to see them one last time?" I struggled to ask the question.

Jeremy avoided my gaze. "Mr. Springton hasn't come back yet."

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall freely.

My child was in critical condition, my in-laws had passed away, and my husband was nowhere to be found.

"Mrs. Springton, Mr. and Mrs. Springton left this for you." Jeremy handed me a tablet.

After watching the video on the tablet, I sat frozen, unable to snap out of it.

Then, I accidentally opened Elson's social media account.

His latest post showed a photo of an airport lounge and a plane ticket, with the caption, "I'll see you soon. Wait for me."

So Dawson and Felicia must have seen this and completely lost faith in Elson.

I sat up. "I need to see Felicia and Dawson one last time and arrange the funeral."

Jeremy rushed to stop me. "Mrs. Springton, your body..."

"I'm fine." I forced myself out of bed despite the pain. The postpartum wounds were still aching, but I couldn't collapse.

With Elson abroad, I was the only one left in the Springton family who could handle Dawson and Felicia's funeral.

The night before the funeral, I kept vigil in front of the memorial chapel, gently touching Dawson's and Felicia's portraits.

Suddenly, the doors were flung open. Elson stood there in the doorway, and behind him stood Yvie, smiling.

I froze. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Dad! Mom!" Elson shouted as he rushed into the memorial chapel. He looked around, and when his gaze landed on the altar, his face instantly turned ashen. "What kind of sick joke is this?" He turned toward me with bloodshot eyes.

Yvie clung to his arm, eyes brimming with tears as she looked at me. "Monica, no matter the situation, you mustn't joke about something like this!"

"Mr. Springton, Mr. and Mrs. Springton have indeed—" Jeremy stepped forward to explain.

"Shut up!" Elson shoved Jeremy forcefully, making the elderly man stagger back. "You're all in on this, aren't you? How dare you try to trick me?" Elson approached me.

With trembling hands, I pulled the hospital's death certificates and funeral home documents from my bag.

"They were taken to the hospital the day the accident happened, but… they couldn't be saved..."

Elson snatched the documents from me and tore them to pieces that fell like snowflakes. When he walked up to the altar and stared at his parents' portraits, he suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"Dad, Mom, quit messing around and come out already." His voice rang out jarringly in the stillness of the memorial chapel.

I trembled all over as I pointed at the two cold coffins. "Elson! Felicia and Dawson… They're gone!"

"Shut up!" he suddenly turned and roared at me. Without warning, he swept the wreaths off the altar.

"Mr. Springton! You mustn't do that! This is Mr. and Mrs. Springton's memorial!" Jeremy lunged forward to stop him, only for Elson to shove the elderly Jeremy away again.

"Elson! Are you insane?" I rushed forward, trying to stop him.

Elson, his eyes bloodshot, lashed out—his hand connecting my cheek in a sharp smack that reverberated through the quiet memorial chapel.

A burning pain immediately shot across my cheek as the blow knocked me back several steps into a cold marble column.

As I had grown weak after giving birth and having gone through days of exhaustion, I soon lost consciousness.

Elson suddenly noticed my flat belly when he looked down at me from above.

"Where's the baby?" His tone turned suspicious. "Why is your stomach flat? Did Mom and Dad hide my child? Huh? Where did you hide them?"

Suddenly growing agitated, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me up from the floor.

As a sharp pain ripped through my scalp, I was forced to tilt my head up to look at him.

"Speak! Did they deliberately avoid me because they knew I was coming back?"

Tears mixed with blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. "Elson… they're really gone… It was a car accident. The doctors couldn't save them..."

Friends and relatives nearby couldn't stay silent any longer.

"She's right, Elson. My condolences."

"It's true that your parents—"

"Shut up!" Elson roared at everyone around him. "Monica Chain, you're really something for managing to rope in so many people just to help you put on this show!" He flung my hair away and brushed his hands off in disgust.

He looked around the solemn and dignified memorial chapel, at Dawson's and Felicia's portraits, at the grieving friends and family who had come to pay their respects.

Suddenly, he laughed so maniacally that tears nearly rolled down his cheeks.

"Well then…" he repeated, but his voice was as cold as ice. When he turned to me, his smile had been replaced by a chilling calm. "If they're really dead," he said slowly, enunciating each word, "then we can finally get divorced."

Time seemed to freeze.

I looked at the man I had once loved deeply, who, while his parents' bodies were still warm, could only think of divorce.

The last thread of affection snapped completely.

Recalling the video Dawson and Felicia had left behind, I leaned against a pillar to steady myself and looked him in the eye.

"Alright. Divorce it is."

Elson seemed momentarily stunned, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so readily. A flicker of confusion flashed in his eyes.

At that moment, Yvie, who had been silently standing by, stepped forward and gently wrapped her arm around his. "Elson," she said softly, "Monica's just playing hard to get to make you feel guilty."

Yvie's words instantly dispelled the hesitation in Elson's face, replacing it with deeper disgust and impatience.

He sneered before grabbing my wrist. "Let's go to the courthouse right now." He dragged me forcefully toward the exit.

"Mr. Springton! Mrs. Springton! You can't do this!" Jeremy hurried forward to block the way, tears streaming down his weathered face.

"Get out of the way!" Elson impatiently shoved Jeremy aside.

I didn't struggle, nor did I say a word.

I simply looked past Elson's shoulder, my gaze drawn one final time to the center of the memorial chapel where Dawson's and Felicia's smiling portraits hung.

"Dawson, Felicia, I'm sorry," I thought.

I walked out of the courthouse with nothing after our divorce, but Elson just left with Yvie, without a single backward glance.

The next day, I stood alone in front of Dawson's and Felicia's graves, my eyes on their photos, as they—my closest family members—were laid to rest, sealed away forever.

No one had my back. With no family or support, I stood there in the pouring rain as an endless, crushing loneliness consumed me.

My phone vibrated then. Out of habit, I looked at it.

Elson had updated his social media—he and Yvie were getting married on a sunny island, smiling radiantly.

"I'm finally with the one I love most. Here's to the rest of our lives."

The photo showed him kneeling on one knee, slipping a sparkling diamond ring onto Yvie's finger.

The timestamp was exactly the same as when Dawson and Felicia were permanently interred.

I stared at the phone screen as the last shred of warmth in my heart was completely drained away.

Elson was so eager to marry Yvie that he couldn't even wait out the 30-day cooling-off period.

As the rain washed over the newly erected tombstones, I knelt in the mud and gave Dawson and Felicia one final bow.