It wasn’t long before I received a message from Louise.

[Did you see that? Vincent will always be mine. You should’ve given up the title of Mrs. Milton long ago.]

As soon as I finished reading her message, a trending topic notification popped up.

[Shocking! CEO Vincent Milton Spends Billions to Assemble a Top Medical Team—All for Louise Ainsworth’s Minor Injury!]

I clicked on the post.

There were photos attached.

In one of them, Vincent was holding Louise carefully, his gaze locked onto her with such intensity that his concern seemed almost tangible.

I clutched my chest, feeling a wave of numbness wash over me, paralyzing every inch of my body.

Five years ago, on the night of my coming-of-age ceremony, I received the terrifying news—my parents had been kidnapped. I had no idea what to do. I was utterly helpless.

At that critical moment, it was my fiancé, Vincent, who volunteered to save them. He stormed in alone, unarmed.

By the time he returned the next evening, he was covered in blood, his legs broken, supported by my parents as he stumbled inside.

I stood there in shock, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Despite his injuries, Vincent forced a smile and reassured me, "Don’t cry. Our Sierra looks the best when she smiles... cough... cough."

When the medical results came out, I learned from Dr. Beckham that both of his legs were shattered—he might never stand again. And he had lost both of his kidneys.

Without hesitation, I offered to donate one of mine.

After the surgery, despite my weakened state, I stayed by his side, searching for the best medical teams, accompanying him through endless rehabilitation.

Vincent gradually recovered, while I developed a chronic condition that left me dependent on medication.

Two years later, with red-rimmed eyes, he proposed to me, vowing to love me for a lifetime.

A sudden knock at the door pulled me back to the present. Moments after, the housekeeper approached, holding a bowl of medicine.

"Madam, it's time to take your medicine."

"Just leave it there. I’ll drink it later," I replied and put down my phone.

The housekeeper remained, insistent. "Madam, Sir Vincent specifically instructed me to watch you drink it."

Sighing, I took the bowl and downed the medicine in one go.

Only after collecting the empty bowl did the housekeeper finally leave.

Suddenly, a conversation between Vincent and Dr. Beckham surfaced in my mind, planting a terrible suspicion in my heart.

While no one was watching, I sneaked into the kitchen and gathered some leftover medicine residue.

The hospital results came back faster than expected.

My hands trembled as I held the report.

On the way home, Dr. Beckham's words echoed in my head.

"These herbs seem nourishing on the surface, but they counteract each other. Over time, they will wear down the body completely."

I returned home in a daze.

When I pushed open the door, I was met with the sight of Vincent kneeling on one knee, gently wiping Louise’s feet.

He placed them down carefully, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

Then I saw what she was stepping on.

I felt my breath hitch.

It was the blanket I had knitted for him four years ago.

That winter, he had fallen into deep despair, unable to walk, refusing to celebrate even his own birthday.

To lift his spirits, I had stayed up all night, painstakingly knitting that blanket for him.

I could still remember the way his face had lit up with joy when he received it. He wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered, "I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life."

Yet now, that very same blanket lay beneath Louise’s feet.

When Louise noticed my presence, she immediately tried to explain, her voice flustered. "Sis, please don’t be angry. Vince only brought me back because I almost lost my balance just now. I’ll leave right away—"

Before I could speak, Vincent stepped in front of her, shielding her as if I were some kind of threat. "Sierra, don’t take your anger out on Louise. If you have a problem, come at me. Louise is innocent."

Louise’s eyes shimmered with tears as she clutched his sleeve. "Vince, don’t be mad at Sis. It’s all my fault... I’m just too clumsy, I can’t even walk properly... I should go now, before I upset her any further..."

I stood there, my heart growing colder by the second.

Louise spoke as if she wanted to leave, but her body remained firmly pressed against Vincent, showing no intention of doing so.

"Louise, stop messing around. Your back injury hasn’t healed yet, and now you’ve sprained your ankle too," Vincent murmured, tightening his grip on her wrist.

Then, his cold gaze shifted to me. "Sierra, if you can’t accept Louise staying in our home to recover, then you should find a hotel to stay in instead."

I met his stare and responded calmly, "No need. Let her stay here and recover."

With that, I turned and headed upstairs.

Not long after, my bedroom door creaked open.

Louise sauntered in, a triumphant smirk curling her lips.

"My dear sister, I heard you’ve been undergoing IVF for two years just to bear Vincent’s child? That must be exhausting for you... but what a pity—"

She paused, her eyes glinting with mockery.

"What a pity that a useless woman without a womb will never be able to conceive! Hahaha!"

Her words sent a chill down my spine.

Before I could react, she took a step closer, her heels clicking against the floor, her voice dripping with malice.

"Do you know why our parents were kidnapped on your coming-of-age night?"

A sudden wave of unease washed over me.

Louise enunciated each word with a cruel smile. "Because you turned eighteen. Mom and Dad wanted you to willingly donate your organs."

"Originally, just one kidney would’ve been enough. But Vince said he didn’t want you to ever bear his child. Marrying you? That was just a way to keep you around—as my personal organ donor."

I staggered back, shaking my head in disbelief. "Why? Aren’t we sisters?"

"Sisters?" Louise’s expression twisted with rage. "Who told you we were real sisters?"

Hearing the truth, my breath hitched, and my body trembled.

"You’re nothing more than a living blood bank that Mom and Dad raised to keep me alive."

"Now that my health has improved, I don’t need you anymore. That’s why Vince has been poisoning you slowly, so you’d wither away without even realizing it."

Smirking, she asked, "How does the medicine taste?"

I felt my world tilt.

So it was Vincent all along.

No wonder—no wonder when I told him something felt off about the medicine, he simply brushed it off, telling me not to be so dramatic.

Louise grasped my chin, tilting my face up to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with glee. "I was born weak. So our parents took you in, raised you like one of their own—for the sole purpose of harvesting your organs and replenishing my blood."

"As for Vince? He only kept you in check so you wouldn’t run away. After all, what would happen if my 'lifeline' disappeared when I needed it most?"

She chuckled suddenly, leaning closer.

"Oh, did you ever wonder about those bruises on your wrists every morning?"

"They weren’t from you tossing and turning at night. They’re from Vince drawing your blood while you sleep. He intentionally bruised the area to cover up the needle marks."

A deafening silence filled the room.

I stood frozen, struggling to process the horrifying truth.

Before I could react, Louise suddenly lifted her hand—then slapped herself across the face and fell dramatically to the floor.

"Ahh!" She clutched her stomach, whimpering. "Sister, please, don’t hit me! The baby in my belly is innocent!"

Vincent appeared in the doorway almost instantly. Seeing Louise sprawled on the floor, pleading desperately, his expression darkened with fury.

Without hesitation, he stormed over and kicked me hard in the chest.

Pain exploded through my ribs as I collapsed against the bed frame.

"Sierra, I really underestimated you," he spat.

"How could you lay a hand on Louise? She’s so kind—how could you be this cruel?" His voice dripped with disgust.

"Just because you can’t have children, you want to hurt someone else’s? How twisted have you become? Is it that unbearable for you to see Louise happy?!"

I clutched my chest, gasping for breath. "You don’t know why I can’t have children?" I shot back, staring at him.

For a split second, hesitation and panic flickered across Vincent’s face.

But before he could answer, Louise suddenly let out a pained moan.

Vincent’s concern snapped back to her instantly. Without another word, he scooped her into his arms and rushed out.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

The last shred of hope I had disappeared completely.

I pulled out my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and dialed a long-forgotten number.

When the call connected, I spoke calmly, "That project you mentioned... I'll take it."

The time was set two days later.

After a long while, I finally got up, gathered all my belongings from the bedroom, and called the housekeeper to have them taken away.

The housekeeper hesitated. "Does Sir Vincent know about this?"

I forced a bitter smile, and said, "I’m just decluttering. No need to tell him."

When the room was finally empty, I stood in the doorway, gazing at the hollow shell of what had once been my home. There wasn’t a single ounce of attachment left in my heart.

Just then, my phone rang.

It was my mother.

I pressed accept, only to be met with her cold, commanding voice.

"Get back home tonight. I don’t care what you’re doing—just be here."

And then, as if to hammer the point home, she added, "If you’re not back by five, deal with the consequences yourself."

Soon after, the line went dead with a busy signal.

I set my phone down, already knowing the reason for the call. It had to be about Louise.

—

By five o’clock sharp, I stood outside the Ainsworth family estate.

As soon as I pushed open the door, an ashtray came flying straight at me.

I didn’t move, and the hard ceramic struck my forehead with a sickening crack. Blood trickled down my face.

Silently, I bent down, picked up the ashtray, and walked over to my father. I placed it on the table and greeted them evenly, "Dad. Mom."

Louise clutched Vincent’s sleeve, feigning distress.

"Vince... I’m scared. Look, my sister is bleeding," she whimpered, but the satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable.

My mother glared at me, her face twisted with disdain.

"Oh, you’ve really learned a lot since getting married, huh? You’ve gotten bold enough to bully your own sister!"

She scoffed, voice laced with venom. "I should’ve never given birth to you. You’re nothing but a wretched curse!"

I couldn’t help but ask, "Did you really give birth to me?"

Immediately, a searing pain exploded across my right cheek as her hand landed on my skin.

I was too weak to withstand the force, and I crumpled to the ground.

For a brief moment, hesitation flickered in Vincent’s eyes.

Noticing this, Louise let out a laugh.

"Sister, really? Mom didn’t even hit you that hard. Why did you fall over so dramatically?"

On hearing her words, Vincent’s gaze darkened. The momentary flicker of doubt vanished, replaced by cold indifference.

My mother sneered. "Exactly! I barely touched you, and here you are pretending to be weak—trying to frame me now, are you?"

She crossed her arms and added, "What is it? Is the title of ‘Mrs. Milton’ not comfortable enough for you, so now you want to extort your own mother instead?"

I didn’t respond.

I merely picked myself up from the ground, my face expressionless.

My father’s glare bore into me, and he intoned coldly, "Kneel, and apologize to Louise."

I looked up at him, bewildered. "At least tell me why?"

Without warning, my mother struck me again, harder than the first. My cheek swelled instantly, my lips splitting from the impact, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

My mother’s voice dripped with hatred.

"You little wretch! You’re bullying your sister, and you still have the nerve to argue? You know she’s pregnant, and yet you’re jealous enough to want to harm her child?"

"I should’ve drowned you the moment you were born!"

Her words cut deep, but I felt nothing.

Not anymore.

I turned to my father, searching his face for even the smallest trace of fairness. Instead, he rose from his seat and swung down the cane in his hand.

A sharp pain shot through my left leg. I grunted in pain but didn’t cry out.

My father coldly spoke, "Kneel down and apologize to Louise."

A deep sense of desolation washed over me.

I turned my gaze to Vincent and asked, "Do you think I did it?"

Vincent responded coldly and distantly, "Apologize properly to Louise, and I won’t pursue this matter further."

I looked at them, my eyes filled with bitterness.

I suddenly felt like the past years had been a joke.

My parents never loved me, my husband never cared.

No one had ever stood by my side.

I inhaled sharply, and calmly said, "Fine, I’ll apologize."

Just as I was about to kneel, I paused.