“Amira...” Dylan tried to step forward and explain, but Claire held him back. She made a thumbs-down gesture in my direction, her eyes curving in a mocking smile as she uttered, “Loser.”

Dylan didn’t seem to think he had done anything wrong.

Desperately, I demanded an explanation. However, he waved me off with an indifferent tone, as if the matter didn’t concern him at all. “Claire has been kind to me. To you, this is just a trivial matter, but for her, it’s her perfect record of 100 wins. You should know what’s more important.”

“Trivial?” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “A family’s breadwinner is wrongly imprisoned—is that trivial?”

“Countless workers are losing hope, trembling in fear, but for you it's trivial?” I took a deep breath and continued, “And in your eyes, Claire’s reputation for 100 wins is what matters most?”

Perhaps my disappointment stung him. His face darkened, and he replied impatiently, “What else? Let me make it clear. To me, Claire is far more important than anyone else. She helped my mom escape an abusive, gambling husband and got me out from under my leech of a father. She can do no wrong in my eyes.”

“Amira, stop being a lawyer. One top female attorney is enough. Claire’s career cannot afford a blemish, and I’ll remove any obstacles for her. From now on, just stay home and take care of me. I’ll provide for you.”

With that, he tossed a credit card onto the table and walked away without a backward glance, leaving me on the verge of collapse.

I looked down from the balcony and saw Claire running toward him from afar. She threw herself into his arms like a lover reunited.

Was this really repayment of kindness?

My heart felt hollow, but there was no time to dwell on the pain. The irreversible consequences of the case had already unfolded, and all I could do now was minimize its social impact and do my best to compensate my client.

But before I could devise a plan, I received news that would haunt me forever—my client, overcome with despair, had drowned himself in the lake.

His wife and daughter, unable to bear the grief, had attempted to follow him. The daughter was miraculously saved and was now in surgery.

As soon as I got the news, I rushed to the hospital. Stuck in traffic, I had no choice but to abandon my car and run.

Stumbling and out of breath, I reached an intersection near the hospital when a small figure suddenly darted out, colliding with me and sending me sprawling onto the road.

A car screeched to a halt, stopping just thirty centimeters away from me. The driver rolled down the window and shouted angrily, “Are you blind? If it weren’t for my quick reflexes, you’d be dead!”

I apologized repeatedly, grabbing hold of the little girl who had pushed me. “What are you doing?”

The girl, realizing she couldn’t escape, rolled her eyes and plopped down on the ground, wailing loudly. “Homewrecker! You stole my dad! You’re a bad woman!”

The crowd quickly began pointing fingers at me. The driver spat in my direction. “Breaking up someone’s family? You deserve to be run over.”

Despite the chaos, I kept my composure, my face darkening as I took out my phone. “You will be held accountable for every word you just said.”

Seeing me call the police, the girl wailed even louder and ran into the arms of a woman nearby.

It was Claire.

And standing beside her was none other than Dylan.

—

In the mediation room, the three of them sat across from me.

The little girl continued to provoke me while Claire, far from stopping her, patted her head encouragingly.

“She’s just a child. Why are you taking it so seriously?” Dylan’s voice broke the silence. His casual tone stung, and tears welled up in my eyes.

“Dylan, I was nearly run over!” I clapped back.

“Well, you didn’t die, did you?” Claire shot me a glance of feigned annoyance and continued, “Why make things difficult for a child? I’ll apologize on her behalf, and let’s leave it at that. After all, she’s a minor—you can’t really do anything to us.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Dylan interjected, stopping her.

My throat tightened as I looked at the man before me, a man I suddenly felt I no longer knew.

There was a time when he would carefully tend to even the smallest scratch on me. Now, after I narrowly escaped death, he seemed utterly indifferent, even urging me not to pursue the one responsible.

“Go home, Amira. Don’t make me repeat myself.” His icy tone felt like a dagger, leaving me cold and numb.

“I want an explanation,” I firmly replied.

Dylan raised his head in surprise, then furrowed his brows, as if coming to a realization. “Anna and Claire are just a widow and her child, relying on each other to get by. Anna is young and doesn’t understand things clearly. She sees me as a father figure, and I happen to like kids, so I went along with it. When she’s older, I’ll explain.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound full of self-mockery. “You like kids, but you’ve refused to have one with me, haven’t you?”

I thought back to those early days of marriage. Despite being newlyweds, Dylan was never home at night. Summoning all my courage, I had shyly asked him to stay in for just one evening. He hesitated before nodding in agreement.

That night, just as our passion was at its peak, his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, he got up and left.

Embarrassment, disappointment, and humiliation mingled into a storm of emotions. I sat alone on the bed, crying through the night.

Dylan clearly remembered that night too. He offered a clumsy explanation. “Anna had a high fever that night.”

I walked over to the window, gazing at the endless lights of the city below, a cold smile on my lips. “You mean to tell me that Anna, who has a mother, grandparents, and a family, somehow couldn’t survive without the presence of an unrelated ‘father’?”

“That’s enough!” He strode over and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him in the eye. “I never realized you could be so jealous!”

In his pupils, I saw my own reflection—a face worn down by endless misfortune. And every misfortune had been orchestrated by him and Claire.

Suddenly, it all felt pointless.

I wrenched myself free from his grip and walked away. Just as my hand reached for the doorknob, his voice came from behind me, cold and unyielding. “Don’t be a lawyer anymore. Be a proper housewife. This isn’t a discussion—it’s a decision.”

“And Amira, you’ve already lost your right to be a lawyer.”

“I’ve made sure there’s no way out for you.”