The rest of the car ride passed in tense silence.

Hannah kept glancing back at me with that fake smile plastered on her face while Kallus drove with one hand, the other still possessively resting on her thigh.

We pulled up to our mansion, no, his mansion now. I refused to think of it as my home anymore.

Kallus opened my door. "Let me help you."

I flinched away from his touch. "I can manage."

My body still ached from childbirth, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest.

Once inside, Hannah immediately made herself at home, tossing her designer purse onto the entryway table like she'd done it a thousand times before.

"I'm going to rest," I said, turning toward the staircase. "I have a headache."

Kallus exchanged a look with Hannah. "Good idea. Hannah, show her to the guest room."

I stopped mid-step. "Guest room?"

"Yes, guest room." His tone was casual, as if this were perfectly normal.

"The bedroom is a bit messy now... due to some things. But you should rest up in the guest room for the while."

"I can go by myself." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Kallus's jaw tightened. "All you have to do is listen to me and act accordingly, no more talking back."

A broken laugh escaped me. "Fine."

Hannah placed a gentle hand on my back, guiding me toward the stairs. I fought the urge to shove her away.

As we passed the master bedroom, my eyes caught the scene through the slightly ajar door.

I caught a glimpse of lace panties on the floor, and the bed sheets crumpled and untidy.

Hannah noticed my gaze and urged me forward. "This way."

"So this is what was going on, huh?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Her caring mask didn't slip. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I looked at her.

This woman who'd slept with my husband for God knows how long. The sheer audacity took my breath away.

I chuckled. "Yeah. Of course."

Hannah shrugged and opened the door to the guest room. It was plain, just a bed, a table, a lamp. Nothing else. Like a prison cell.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly too weak to hold me.

"I'll get you some water," Hannah said, disappearing down the hall.

She returned moments later with a glass. I took it without hesitation. It was just water—how could it hurt?

As soon as I finished, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred at the edges.

Something was wrong. Water wasn't supposed to do this.

As darkness closed in, the last thing I saw was Hannah's smile—no longer fake, but evil and cruel.

...

"Mama, mama."

I drifted in the middle of an endless ocean, weightless and lost.

A tiny hand reached up through the water, grasping for air. It was my baby, drowning, calling for me.

My body wouldn't move.

Heavy chains bound me to a bed floating in the middle of the ocean.

I strained against them, muscles screaming, until finally—with one desperate surge of strength—I broke free.

I dove into the water—

And woke up gasping, sweat soaking my clothes, and my chest heaving with sobs.

It was just a nightmare.

I clutched my head as tears streamed down my face. "I miss you, baby," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

A sound from down the hall cut through my grief.

Moaning.

The realisation hit me like ice water. They'd drugged me. They'd drugged me so they could fuck while I was unconscious in the next room.

Rage propelled me from the bed. I grabbed my phone and crept down the hallway silently.

Their door was ajar. Through the gap, I saw them—Hannah riding Kallus, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

"God, yes, Hannah," Kallus groaned, his hands gripping her hips.

I bit down on my hand to keep from screaming, the pain grounding me as I hit record on my phone. The betrayal burned like acid, but the evidence would be worth it.

I filmed for a minute before returning to my room, saving the video and staring at the ceiling until morning came.

Their moans eventually came to an end, but I still couldn't sleep.

…

The next morning, I freshened up and headed to the kitchen.

Hannah was already there, whisking eggs in a bowl while Kallus sat at the island, newspaper in hand.

"Good morning," I said, my voice carefully neutral.

Hannah smiled. "I'm making cheese omelets—Kallus's favorite."

"I'll just have toast." I reached for the bread.

"Don't be silly," Hannah said. "You need proper nutrition after... everything."

"I said I want toast."

Kallus lowered his newspaper. "Hannah's making breakfast for everyone. Be grateful."

"I don't want her food."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hannah's eyes narrowed.

"Nothing." I turned to the toaster. "I just want toast."

"You're being rude to Hannah," Kallus said, his voice dangerously quiet.

I spun around. "Rude? To the woman who's taken over my house? My husband?"

"Apologize to her," Kallus demanded. "Now."

"No." I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh.

Then suddenly, a slap came out of nowhere, a sharp crack that snapped my head to the side.

"Apologize!" Kallus's face was inches from mine, contorted with rage.

I stared at him, stunned.

In five years of marriage, he'd never raised a hand to me. Never. But for her, he'd crossed that line without hesitation.

Hannah played her part perfectly. "Kallus, don't be rash to your wife for me."

The act made me want to vomit.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I complied for the moment, my cheek stinging.

I'd make them pay for this.

Every. Single. Humiliation.

I'll make them pay.

…

Night fell, and Hannah brought me water again. I pretended to drink, then dumped it down the sink when she left.

I waited, listening for their usual routine.

When I was certain they'd finished their nightly activities, I crept to their room.

Hannah lay naked and asleep, her blonde hair spread across the pillow. The shower ran in the attached bathroom.

I snapped a quick photo of Hannah, then spotted Kallus's phone on the nightstand.

His password hadn't changed—my birthday. The irony made me roll my eyes.

My hands trembled as I opened his messages with Hannah.

There it was—evidence of their affair, discussions of my baby's murder, plans for their future.

I bit down on my hand again, drawing blood as I suppressed a sob.

Quickly, I forwarded key messages to my email, then deleted the evidence from his sent folder.

Suddenly, the shower stopped.

I carefully replaced the phone and slipped out, heart hammering.

But I had surely collected key evidence.

…

Days passed in this new, twisted reality.

Kallus barely acknowledged my existence except to bark orders, while giving all attention to Hannah.

When I was around, they'd put on their little show, discussing about caring for me with fake concern.

Then one evening, as I lay in my room pretending to be sedated, I heard Hannah's voice from downstairs. She was on the phone, her tone relaxed and cheerful.

I crept to the staircase and listened.

"...got rid of that wretch Donna's baby, and now our little Kingsley will have an amazing life in this place." Hannah's voice drifted up. "We'll kick Donna out soon, then you can move in with us, Mom. It'll be perfect."

My heart shattered all over again. Kingsley. Their son had a name.

He had a life, a future. Everything my baby should've had, stolen by my husband and his mistress.

I watched as Hannah set her phone down and headed to the kitchen. The phone sat on the coffee table, unlocked and unattended.

This was it. A massive risk, but potentially my most valuable evidence yet.

I moved silently down the stairs and grabbed her phone.

With shaking fingers, I navigated to her call history and found the recording function.

There it was—the entire conversation saved.

I quickly emailed it to myself, then deleted the sent message from her outbox. Just as I was about to set the phone down, a voice froze my blood.

"What are you doing with my phone?"

"Nothing," I said, placing the phone back on the table with steady hands despite my racing heart.

"Just mistook it for mine."

Hannah's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

I smiled, feeling a surge of dark satisfaction. "You mean sedated?"

Her face paled. "Excuse me?"

"No, no, nothing," I waved dismissively. "I'll go sleep. Feel very tired for some reason."

I turned and walked up the stairs, feeling her eyes boring into my back.

Once safely in my room, I immediately forwarded all the evidence to Patricia.

Six days I'd endured this hell—just one more day until the bodyguard arrived.

My fingers flew across my phone screen as I typed: "Please file the divorce papers tonight. Attached is all the evidence I've gathered. They've been drugging me. I need this done immediately."

I hit send, then deleted the message from my outbox. A sense of determination replaced my fear.

The countdown to my revenge had begun.

…

That night, the sound of car engines jolted me awake. Voices drifted up from downstairs, unfamiliar and loud.

I crept to the window, peering down at the driveway. Two cars had pulled up on the driveway.

I slipped into the hallway and descended the stairs quietly, stopping halfway when the front door swung open.

Kallus and Hannah stood in the foyer, welcoming two older women. I recognised the first immediately.

Margaret Luma, my mother-in-law, who had made it clear from day one that I wasn't good enough for her precious son.

The second woman I'd never seen before, but when Hannah called her "Mom," I understood.

"Mom, where's Kingsley?" Hannah asked, glancing behind them.

A small boy toddled through the doorway, no more than three years old. Dark hair like Kallus with Hannah's button nose.

"Mama!" he squealed as Hannah scooped him up, covering his face with kisses.

My heart shattered all over again. While my baby lay cold in the mortuary, theirs thrived.

"What is this wretch doing here after losing her child?" Margaret's shrill voice cut through my thoughts.

I hadn't realised she'd spotted me on the stairs. She marched forward, finger pointing accusingly.

"You don't deserve to be in this house! If you can't be a mother to my son's child, you're worth nothing! You should be kicked out immediately!"

Something inside me snapped. A laugh bubbled up from my chest.

"Is that why you asked your son to fuck this bitch?" I pointed at Hannah, my voice razor-sharp.

Everyone froze. Kallus's face darkened with fury. "How dare you disrespect my mother and Hannah!"

The dam broke. Words poured out, unstoppable. "How dare you murder my child!"

Shock rippled through the room. Hannah's mother's mouth fell open. Evelyn went pale.

Hannah thrust Kingsley into her mother's arms and stormed toward me, face contorted with rage. "You crazy bitch!"

She lunged up the stairs, grabbing a fistful of my hair. Pain seared my scalp as she yanked.

"You think you can say whatever you want?" She hissed, nails digging into my skin.

I fought back instinctively, shoving at her chest. "Get off me!"

My hands connected with her shoulders—harder than I intended. Hannah's eyes widened in surprise as she lost her balance.

Time slowed. Her arms windmilled. Her foot slipped off the step.

Then she was falling, tumbling backward down the marble staircase, limbs flailing until her head struck the floor with a sickening crack.

Everyone gasped. Hannah lay at the bottom of the stairs, motionless.

Soon, blood began pooling beneath her golden hair…

…

Kallus roared and rushed to Hannah's side, cradling her bloody head in his lap.

Even at that moment, I couldn't stop thinking how he hadn't been there for me while I was giving birth yet here he was, holding Hannah in his arms.

"Call an ambulance!" he screamed at his mother, who fumbled for her phone.

My legs gave away. I collapsed onto the step and my body trembling uncontrollably as I stared at Hannah.

"You killed her," Kallus snarled up at me, his face contorted with rage and grief. "You fucking killed her!"

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"I didn't—she attacked me—I just pushed her away—"

"Shut up!" His voice cracked with fury. "I'll make you pay for this!"

Hannah's mother wailed, clutching Kingsley who began to sob, confused and frightened by the chaos.

The little boy reached toward his motionless mother, his small face crumpling.

"Mama! Mama!"

Something broke inside me at the sound of his cries. My hands flew to my mouth, stifling a sob.

"The ambulance is coming," Margaret announced, her voice shaking. She pointed at me, eyes burning with hatred. "And so are the police. You'll rot in prison for this."

I scrambled to my feet, backing up the stairs. "It was self-defense! She attacked me first!"

"Who do you think they'll believe?" Kallus's voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

"The grieving husband whose wife just lost their baby? Or the mentally unstable woman who pushed his innocent secretary down the stairs in a jealous rage?"

The calculation in his eyes chilled me to the bone.

He'd already formulated the narrative of how I'd snapped after losing my child.

No one would believe the truth. Not when Kallus controlled the story.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second.

"You have nowhere to run," Kallus said, his lips curling into a cruel smile despite the tears on his cheeks. "No one to help you."

I slumped to my knees, paralysed by the gravity of what had happened.

The sirens grew closer and then stopped abruptly as red and blue lights flashed through the windows.

Officers burst through the door, their weapons drawn. Within seconds, rough hands pulled me to my feet.

"She murdered my secretary!" Kallus shouted, tears streaming down his face. "She pushed her down the stairs in cold blood!"

Cold metal handcuffs locked my wrists as an officer recited my rights. I barely heard the words.

But just then, the front door opened again.

A mailman stepped in, looking startled at the scene.

"Package for Kallus Luma. Needs signature."

Kallus snatched the large envelope, scribbling his name without looking.

My lips curved into a smile. The divorce papers. The evidence. Patricia had delivered as promised.

Kallus tore open the envelope, his expression shifting from confusion to shock to rage as he flipped through the documents.

"You bitch," he hissed, holding up the screenshots of his messages about murdering our son.

The officer gripped my arm, leading me toward the car.

I looked back over my shoulder, meeting Kallus's furious gaze.

"Careful with that temper, darling. Prison doesn't suit men like you."

I smiled as the police car door slammed shut behind me.

…

As the police car pulled away from the mansion, tears streamed down my face.

I'd been so close, just one more day until my brother's bodyguard would arrive.

Now, I was headed to a jail cell while Kallus held the divorce papers containing evidence of his crimes.

Yet somewhere beneath my despair, there was a small satisfaction.

The look on Kallus's face when he realised I'd known all along and that I'd gathered evidence against him, had been worth everything.

Suddenly, the police car jerked to a halt as another vehicle swerved across our path, blocking the road.

"What the hell?" the officer muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt.

I watched through tear-blurred eyes as the driver's door of the other car swung open.

A man stepped out—tall, broad-shouldered, with a confident stride that commanded attention.

His face was striking, with strong jawline, and alert eyes that missed nothing.

The officer approached him with one hand hovering near his weapon. They exchanged words I couldn't hear, their conversation growing more intense by the second.

Then something unexpected happened. The officer glanced back at me, nodded, and returned to our car.

Without a word, he unlocked my handcuffs.

"Mrs. Luma, you're free to go. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"What? I don't understand—"

The officer simply shook his head and walked back to his vehicle, leaving me standing on the roadside as he drove away.

The stranger approached, his expression softening as he studied my face.

"Are you alright?" His voice was deep, concerned.

"Who are you?" I asked, rubbing my wrists where the handcuffs had dug into my skin.

A smile touched his lips. "I think you already know. You were expecting me, after all."

My mind raced, connecting the pieces. "Agnes sent you... you're the—"

"Bodyguard. Yes." He extended his hand. "Bory Kingston. Your brother sent me to protect you. I was supposed to arrive tomorrow, but when I heard it was for you, I dropped everything. Saved me half a day's travel time."

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave. "You're on time."

"And you're in big trouble." His eyes flickered toward the mansion.

Bory gestured toward his car. "Shall we go? I believe we have some unfinished business with your husband."

I looked back at the mansion one last time, thinking of Hannah lying on the marble floor, of Kallus's rage, and of my murdered son.

"Ex husband and yes," I whispered, sliding into the passenger seat.

"We have a score to settle."