Filled with joy, I'd reached for the necklace, but Damian, usually so composed, had snapped, scolding me before tucking it away.

Now, I understood who it truly belonged to.

I couldn't help but imagine Damian's reaction when he found out the truth. I was the one who saved his life. His love and necklace had been given to the wrong person.

His deep voice brought me back to reality. "Serena, you look pale. Is the baby troubling you? Or are you unwell? Let me take you to a doctor."

His concerned gaze left me momentarily dazed.

When he first learned of my pregnancy, his joy had been palpable.

He'd teared up, hugging me tightly. "I'm going to be a dad!"

I'd shared his delight, thinking it was parental bliss. Now, I knew that the child was just his ticket to inheritance.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if his concern was genuine or if he was just worried about the baby, who would affect his inheritance rights and his plan to marry Harriet.

The latter seemed more likely. Too bad, I couldn't give him what he wanted.

My child could grow up without a father, but not exist as a pawn.

Pain clawed at my chest, like thorns twisting deeper with every breath. "I'm fine. Probably just a cold."

Damian stepped closer. "Harriet's check-up is finished. You don't look well. Let's see a doctor here, or I'll have the family doctor come to the house."

Before I could respond, Harriet wobbled dramatically, collapsing into his arms with a theatrical gasp. "Ah, my leg just cramped up. It's probably that old injury acting up again. I don't want to delay you from taking Serena home, but could you help me get another appointment? I'll go alone."

She batted her lashes, feigning vulnerability.

I interjected, "That fire seven years ago was brutal, wasn't it? Saving him must've been strenuous. Any scars?"

She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a faint mark on her arm. "Yeah, it left this. Not exactly pretty, but Damian means everything to me. I'd run through fire for him again in a heartbeat."

I was stunned by her audacity. She'd go so far as to flaunt a fake scar to uphold her lie.

"That blaze killed many people," I pressed. "You were just a middle-school kid, small and frail. How did you manage to drag him out of those flames?"

Her eyes darted away, a brief crack in her façade, before tears welled up again.

She turned to Damian, whining, "What is Serena implying? Is she doubting me? Is she jealous because you're kind to me? Always trying to stir trouble between us."

Damian's gaze turned icy. "That's enough, Serena. She risked her life to save mine. I won't let you make things difficult for her."

Harriet's sobs grew louder, theatrical and grating. "It hurts so much. Please, take me to the doctor."

"Of course." He scooped her up, turning to me. "You seem fine, stirring up trouble as usual. Go home and rest."

His words cut like a blade. The truth about that fire lodged in my throat once more.

He cherished her blindly, and the facts were irrelevant now.

"We need to end this," I muttered. "The child is gone already. You love someone else, so let's get a divorce and move on."

Damian barely registered my words, hurrying Harriet toward the emergency wing.

"We'll talk later," he said over his shoulder. "My secretary will drive you home."

A wave of despair crashed over me. I let out a bitter laugh, my hand drifting to my abdomen, where my child had once been.

"Your dad's heart belongs to another," I murmured to the void. "Good thing you never knew. I'll bear this pain alone."

He didn't acknowledge the loss of our child or my request for divorce. Harriet had consumed his every thought.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the hospital.

The secretary's car waited curbside. He opened the door with a polite nod. "Madam, Mr. Patton sent me to take you home. Please, get in."

I slid into the backseat, my eyes catching on a delicate box of pastries.

"You've craved these since the pregnancy started, so Mr. Patton made a special trip this afternoon to buy them for you," he said enthusiastically. "Miss Patton's sudden illness delayed him."

I looked away and closed my eyes, not responding.

Weeks ago, such gestures would've melted me. Now it was just a cruel reminder of Damian's deceit.

Sensing my bad mood, the secretary added, "Mr. Patton cares deeply for you, Madam. Last night, when you didn't come home, he sent teams searching the city for you."

"Alright," I interrupted, my voice flat. "Just give me a moment of peace."

The secretary shut his mouth, squirming in the driver's seat.

At the villa, I printed the divorce agreement, packed for tomorrow's flight, and sat in the living room, waiting for Damian to return.

But as dawn broke, he still hadn't come back.

The front door creaked open, but it wasn't him.

...

Harriet sauntered in, a smug smirk twisting her lips. "Up all night waiting? Too bad, he spent it with me. I faked a little flare-up, and he was glued to me. Proves I'm the one he truly values."

I arched an eyebrow. "And your point?"

Gone was the fragile act she played for Damian. Her eyes glinted with malice as she stepped closer. "You're nothing to him. Get the hint and leave! I know you saved him, ruining your hand and piano dreams. Your parents killed themselves over the debts from your treatments. So what? Damian believes me."

My vision swam with anger, my right hand trembling uncontrollably. It turned out she knew everything.

My music teacher once called me a prodigy, destined for Carnegie Hall. Saving Damian burned my hand, damaging the tendons irreversibly.

I couldn't play the piano without shaking. My parents sold everything for my treatments, to no avail.

I had to abandon my dream.

With mounting debts weighing on him, my dad succumbed to illness. Unable to handle the grief, my mom took her life to join him.

In the dead of night, when my hand throbbed, those memories haunted me.

That was my deepest scar. I hadn't shared it with anyone, yet Harriet knew the whole truth.

"You know I saved him," I said, my face pale, "and you're still trying to steal him?"

Her smirk was venomous. "So what? He's mine now, and you've got no proof. Honestly, your parents were idiots, believing your hand could heal. Wasted everything on you. They deserved it."

Before Harriet could finish, I slapped her across the face.

She crumpled to the floor, ready to curse, but footsteps approached.

Tears immediately flooded her eyes. She whimpered, "Serena, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept Damian all night. Hit me if it helps. Just don't be mad. I'll do anything to make it right."

I scowled, words forming, but a furious voice cut through the air. "Serena, you've gone too far!"

Damian stormed in, his face a mask of rage as he pulled Harriet into his protective embrace. "Her arm ached all night. It was from the scar she got saving me. I stayed to ease it, and you assaulted her? Pregnancy doesn't excuse cruelty. How can you be so vicious?"

He hurled a cake box to the ground. The delicate layers smashed, the "Happy 3rd Anniversary" written in cream smeared into a ruined mess.

Today was our wedding anniversary. I'd forgotten it, but he remembered.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and met his cold stare. The truth clawed at me, desperate to escape.

"Are you so sure Harriet saved you? What if..." I started.

"Damian!" Harriet wailed, cutting me off. "Serena slapped me so hard. And my hand hurts so much."

The last bit of warmth vanished from Damian's eyes. He snapped at me, "No excuses. I'm taking her to the hospital. Stay here."

He lifted her and strode out without a backward glance.

I smiled bitterly, clasping the divorce agreement in my hand.

He called me vicious, oblivious to the fact that I'd traded my dreams and my family for his safety.

In our bedroom, I unlocked the safe and retrieved a ring, the token he'd pressed into my palm back then as the flames roared around us. It was his final act of gratitude before he fainted.

Harriet claimed I had no proof, but this ring, safeguarded for seven years, was my evidence.

Damian valued gratitude above all, so I'd never used it to force him to do anything.

I'd once believed his affection was real. Now it was all just a lie.

But love or gratitude didn't matter anymore. It was time to let go.

Clutching the ring, the divorce agreement, and the abortion report, I walked out of the room.

The secretary approached me. "Madam, here is your medication from Mr. Patton."

"I don't need it anymore," I said, thrusting the ring and documents into his hands. "Pass these to him. Tell him I'm returning the ring he gave me seven years ago. I'm done, and I won't see him again."

He flipped through the papers, his face draining of color as he registered the content.

By the time he looked up, I was already gone.

Panicked, he sprinted to the hospital.

"Sir, emergency! Mrs. Patton terminated her pregnancy and is heading to the airport!" Bursting into the room, he met Damian's glare and thrust the ring forward. "She returns the ring you gave her seven years ago. Says goodbye forever."