Three hours before the wedding, my fiancé announced he wouldn’t come to pick me up. Instead, he turned around and registered his marriage with Estelle Banks.

I endured the whispers and gossips from the guests, but then my fiancé’s younger cousin, Vincent Long, pushed open the hotel door.

He arrived with the most extravagant wedding convoy and presented me with 1,001 roses, confessing that he had secretly loved me for years and had always dreamed of marrying me. Moved by his gestures--how he saved me from humiliation, I nodded and agreed to his proposal instantly.

In three years of our marriage, I suffered seven miscarriages and finally managed to get pregnant again.

Vincent was overjoyed and pulled me into his arms, we turned in a single step of dance. With voice full of affection, he told me to rest and promised that he’d cherish both me and the baby with all his life.

At my three months pregnancy, I accidentally overheard his conversation with our private doctor, “Mr. Long, just like the previous times, the miscarriage-inducing drugs have been mixed into her milk.”

“I just don’t understand. If Estelle can give birth to your child, why can’t your wife?”

Vincent chuckled bitterly.

“A requirement to inherit our family company is by having an heir. Kenneth is infertile—there’s no way I’ll let Elle suffer if I had one?”

So all those heartfelt promises were nothing but lies. If that’s the case, I’ll leave.

***

“By doing this, you’re not just giving up the chance to become the company’s next CEO—you’re also sacrificing the family you could’ve had with your wife, the seven children you might’ve raised together.”

“You’ve always had me forge Sir Kenneth’s medical reports. He still doesn’t know he’s infertile. If Estelle has this child and it can’t even call you ‘Dad,’ is all of this really worth it?”

Vincent’s expression softened, a mix of tenderness and sorrow in his gaze.

“So what? I couldn’t marry Elle back then, but I’ll make sure she’s happy for the rest of her life. No one will take that away from her—not even the child Jude and I have together.”

The doctor hesitated, then spoke with quiet urgency. “But your wife… she’s already had seven miscarriages. If she loses another baby, I don’t think she’ll ever be able to get pregnant again.”

Vincent pressed his lips together and, after a long pause, he said, “It’s fine. I’ll take care of her for the rest of my life, no matter what.”

The veins on the back of my hand bulged as I gripped the study door handle. I was so angry that I felt my whole body trembled.

Before Vincent could notice me, I dashed back to our bedroom, slumping to the floor in a daze. I had always thought it was my frail body that caused me to lose seven pregnancies over the past three years.

In the past, Vincent’s father had made one thing clear: whether it was Vincent or Kenneth, whoever produced an heir first would inherit the company and become its next chairman.

After so many miscarriages in such a short span of time, my health had deteriorated badly. Yet I never complained. Instead, I blamed myself, drowning in guilt for holding Vincent back from achieving his success.

But in the end… all my pain and sorrow turned out to be based on a lie.

Vincent had kept me from asking too many questions, insisting we avoid contraception every time we were intimate. He had always reassured me, but with each loss, my body grew weaker, my health crumbling piece by piece.

I realized now that to Vincent, my body—and the seven children I lost—were nothing more than obstacles in Estelle’s path to happiness.

“Jude, why are you sitting on the floor?” Vincent’s voice broke through my thoughts as he walked into the bedroom. He rushed to my side, gently helping me to my feet, his face etched with concern.

“It’s nothing,” I said quietly, forcing a weak smile. “Just a little morning sickness.”

He rubbed my back with care, his touch light but soothing. “Sweetheart, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Next time you feel unwell, promise me you’ll call. It hurts me to think of you suffering alone.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well since the pregnancy. Once the baby is born, I’ll give them a good scolding for not taking better care of their mom!”

“Here, drink this. It’ll help you relax.”

I stared down at the milk, a pang of sorrow swelling in my chest. Would there even be a next time?

Before each of my previous miscarriages, he had been just as attentive. From thoughtfully preparing late-night snacks to personally making my favorite fruit salad, his care always felt so genuine.

I thought his care was a sign of love, but it was actually a murder intent in disguise. “Hubby, I don’t like the milk’s taste. Can I skip this one?”

Vincent gave a helpless smile, but he didn’t let me refuse. “Jude, don’t be stubborn. The doctor said the more you dislike the food, the more your body needs it.”

“If you don’t rest well, the baby won’t either. Aren’t you the one who loves them the most? Be good—for the sake of our baby. Here, let me help you drink it.”

He was half persuasive, half insistent as he pressed the rim of the glass to my lips. I had no chance to refuse.

Vincent, were you so afraid that my child would stand in Estelle’s way? Or do you believe that the only person worthy of having your child is Estelle?

I closed my eyes in despair and drank the entire glass of milk.

In less than half an hour, the effects of the drug began to take hold. I curled up on the bed in agony, drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Vincent had just finished calling our private doctor when he returned to our room. It was as if he’d been waiting outside all along.

Even though I had been through this seven times before, losing my child once again still felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

Through the haze of pain, I vaguely heard the doctor’s voice “Mr. Long, your wife has lost significantly more blood than in her previous miscarriages. I’m afraid her body has been critically damaged and she’ll never be able to conceive again.”

Vincent said nothing, his eyes red as he cradled me in his arms. “Jude, don’t worry. Even if we can’t have children, I’ll still love you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

From being the pampered CEO who had everything handed to him, Vincent now personally cleaned the bloodstains from my body. He was worried I’d catch a cold after the miscarriage. So, he held me tightly in his arms to keep me warm as I slept.

In the dead of night, Vincent muttered in the middle of his deep sleep, “Elle, don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure you get your happiness.”

The tears I had been holding back for so long finally broke free. On our wedding day, Vincent had promised me happiness, but it was only a lie to keep me from interfering with Estelle’s life.

At that moment, I suddenly realized that my entire marriage had been nothing but a complete joke.

I quickly sent a message to my best friend abroad:

[You once invited me to join you to go around the world, right? I’ve decided—I’ll come to Lichtonia to see you the day after tomorrow.]

I put my phone down, but my lower abdomen still ached terribly.

The thought that I had just lost another child and that it was his biological father who had taken it from me, left me breathless with pain. I locked myself in the bathroom, letting my tears fall freely as I replayed all the moments I had shared with Vincent over the years.

When I stood up, my phone accidentally slipped from my hand.

I bent down to pick it up. Then, I noticed something under the sink—a precious bundle wrapped carefully in layers of expensive satin.

Curious, I unwrapped it, only to discover it was a thick photo album. An album filled with pictures of Estelle, from the age of 15 to her current 28.

The design on the cover was familiar. I had seen it in Vincent’s office before. Vincent had always loved photography.

Although Vincent was Kenneth’s younger cousin, he was only a few years older than us. When we were kids, Vincent would often watch Kenneth and I fighting over something. Vincent looked aloof as if he couldn’t be bothered with the childish games we played.

One day, when Estelle just turned 15, she approached me and asked if we could be friends. I didn’t think much of it. Since I always saw her alone, I introduced her to Kenneth and Vincent.

It was around that moment on, Vincent started joining our activities. He even began learning photography.

I thought it was simply a sign of him maturing. In truth, it was because he had found someone he liked.

The photos in the album—I only saw a few of them, while I never even saw the rest even from back then.

Every smile, every frown, every glance and every fleeting gesture—Vincent's camera readily capture Estelle’s every movement.

After the day we got married, Vincent had never touched his camera again.

Once, I asked him to take a maternity photo for me. At that time, he simply told me that he lost his camera and introduced me to a famous photographer to do the job instead.

In reality, he didn’t lose his camera. It’s just that his lens was reserved solely for the person he loved.

While I quietly put the photo album back to its original place, my eyes were completely dried up. I no longer can shed tears for him.

I booked a plane ticket on my phone and drafted a divorce agreement next. If he loved Estelle that much, I may as well let him have her.

The next morning, my eyes were so swollen they looked like walnuts.

Vincent noticed and that seemed to made him worried. Unlike any day, he went on and prepared a nutritious breakfast for me himself. He boiled an egg and carefully peeled it. Then, he used the egg to reduce the swelling around my eyes.

His gentle, attentive care almost made me question whether everything from last night had been nothing more than a bad dream.

Yet, the emptiness in my belly reminded me that I was firmly grounded in reality.

Vincent sighed when he witnessed me not taking a single bite of his homemade porridge.

“Jude, we just lost our baby. I know you’re heartbroken and I’m hurting too, but you need to take care of yourself. After all these miscarriages, your body is in bad shape. Please eat something, for my sake. Don’t make me worry, okay?”

“Where is my baby’s body? I want to see him.”

Three months. By then, my baby would have already taken shape, but I would never get the chance to hold him or see him.

Vincent’s answer was the same as the previous seven times; “I’ve made sure the baby was properly buried. You’re too emotional right now and I don’t want you to be even more heartbroken.”

“Your parents are devastated as well. Let’s go to the family home for dinner tonight—it’ll do us all some good to spend time together.”

The moment I stepped into the Long Family estate, I saw Estelle clinging to Kenneth’s arm, her every gesture dripping with playful flirtation.

When she noticed me, she tilted her head slightly and proudly pushed her belly forward, as if showing it off.

“Oh, Jude! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Come, have a seat. I heard you had another miscarriage—be careful not to overexert your body!”

Ever since the wedding incident, things had been tensed between me, Kenneth and Estelle. Whenever I visited the family home, I’d deliberately avoid times when they were around.

It seemed today wasn’t one of those lucky days.

I glanced at Estelle's six-month belly and felt a sharp pang in my chest. She's carrying Vincent’s child. Meanwhile, that man had never let any of my pregnancies last longer than three months.

When Vicky, Vincent's mother, saw me, her face immediately turn sour.

“Useless. You can’t even protect the child in your womb. How many times has it been now? And you still have the nerve to complain about being exhausted? How did my son end up with someone like you too begin with?”

Vicky was Vincent’s biological mother and at the same time Kenneth’s step-mother. Right at her fifty years of age she had to witness the CEO position that rightfully should have gone to her biological son being snatched away by Kenneth. That, must have irked her quite deeply.

In the past, Vincent would have stood up for me. But now, his eyes were fixed solely on Estelle, brimming with longing and devotion, completely oblivious to the tension between Vicky and me.

“Ma’am, don’t be upset,” Estelle said sweetly, her tone dripping with faux concern. “It’s just that Jude isn’t blessed with the fortune to be a mother. After losing so many children, it’s not like she wanted it to happen.”

Vicky scoffed coldly. “She’s nothing but a cursed woman, dragging my son down with her.”

Pretending to play peacemaker, Estelle tried to ease the situation, even reaching to guide me into a seat. But as she stood, she stumbled slightly.

Though she quickly regained her balance, Vincent didn’t hesitate. He shoved me aside and rushed to her.

Ignoring everyone else in the room, he pulled Estelle into his arms and asked anxiously, “Elle, are you okay? You’re pregnant—why are you walking around by yourself? Where’s Kenneth?”

Estelle flashed a sugary smile. “Ken’s in the U.S. on a business trip. He’s about to take over as CEO, so he’s been super busy.”

She shot me a mocking glance before turning to Vincent, putting on a painfully sweet, almost cringey expression.