Roxan tried to withdraw her hand, but Vince firmly held it in his grasp.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, carefully examining her injured hands. His face darkened upon seeing how deeply the glass shards were embedded. “There’s a first-aid kit in the living room. I’ll treat the wounds for now, but we’ll need to go to the hospital. Your body still hasn’t fully recovered since your bout with COVID; we can’t risk a bacterial infection.”

Tears welled up in Roxan’s eyes as she nodded obediently, like a frightened rabbit, allowing him to carry her out.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud.

The room returned to silence, but Gianna’s pain surged with greater intensity after hearing Vince’s final words. She clutched her lower abdomen with trembling fingers, barely able to contain her anguish.

The obstetrician had explained that her baby’s miscarriage was primarily caused by the immune imbalance brought on by her high fever. Many similar cases had occurred in recent years due to the pandemic. Despite her cautiousness about her diet and surroundings, she had still been infected.

Now, she understood the source of that infection.

Half a month ago, Roxan had hosted Vince’s birthday dinner, preparing a spread of spicy dishes. Gianna, then in the throes of pregnancy nausea, stuck to plain rice.

“Gianna, why aren’t you eating? These dishes are really good,” Roxan had said, unusually enthusiastic, even placing a piece of spicy chicken in Gianna’s bowl.

Gianna didn’t want to eat it and was about to move it aside when Vince’s face darkened.

“It’s just one bite. You used to love spicy food. What now, have your tastes changed?”

She wanted to tell him about her pregnancy but froze under his cold, indifferent gaze.

She picked up the piece of chicken, took a bite, then spat it out. “Mediocre,” she said flatly before resuming her silent meal.

Roxan didn’t seem to mind. She and Vince chatted and laughed throughout dinner, as though Gianna were invisible.

During the meal, Roxan coughed several times, claiming her throat felt itchy and that she was “fighting poison with poison.” At the time, Gianna thought it was due to the spiciness of the food. In hindsight, it was likely the early stages of her illness.

Whether Roxan’s actions were deliberate or accidental, only she knew.

The warmth of postpartum bleeding now trickled down—a cruel farewell from her baby. Gianna’s heart felt as though it were being shredded. Her child could have been born healthy, but fate had other plans.

Both she and Vince were to blame.

They didn’t deserve to be parents, and that was why their child chose to leave.

That night, Gianna drifted into a restless, tearful sleep. In her dreams, she saw her mother.

Her mother stood in a beautiful estate, holding a tiny infant in her arms. She gently wiped away Gianna’s tears and said softly, “What happened with the baby was destiny. Some bonds can’t be forced. Perhaps he left early to save you from further suffering.”

“Gia, starting tomorrow, live for yourself.”

With those words, her mother, Evelyn, holding the baby, faded into the light and disappeared.

Gianna woke with a start in the middle of the night, her pillow soaked with tears. Yet her mind was clearer than it had been in a long time.

Life was about moving forward, not looking back.

She reached into her nightstand drawer and retrieved her diary, flipping through its pages. Inside were records of her life with Vince—how they met, fell in love, and the gradual accumulation of disappointment and heartbreak. Each entry felt like a stab to the heart, a torment akin to living in purgatory.

She threw the diary into the bottom drawer, slamming it shut as though that would bury the pain along with it.

At six o’clock the next morning, she rose from bed.

Her spirits felt steadier, and the ache in her lower abdomen had subsided to a manageable level. She began methodically packing her belongings.

Thankfully, Vince had refused to take wedding photos with her when they married. Otherwise, she’d have more to sort through.

After packing her everyday clothes, she hesitated when she turned to the back of her closet. There sat over a dozen luxury handbags, gifts from Michelle. All high-end designer pieces, their opulence didn’t match Gianna’s understated style, so she had barely used them.

Faced with so many bags, Gianna didn’t want to take them, nor did she want to leave them behind as a reminder of her presence. After some thought, she decided to sell them, convert them into cash, and use the money to purchase a parting gift for Michelle—a token of gratitude to conclude their so-called “mother-daughter” relationship over the years.

As she opened her phone to contact a friend about selling the bags, a message from Roxan popped up.

[Gianna, are you feeling better? I was wrong yesterday and shouldn’t have said those things. Will you forgive me?]

Gianna let out a cold laugh, ignoring the message.

A few minutes later, Roxan sent another one, this time with a photo.

It was of a man’s back, tall and straight, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was wearing a white T-shirt paired with black tailored slacks, the apron tied around his waist blending seamlessly with his refined appearance. He stood in the kitchen, meticulously preparing food.

Beneath the photo was a caption.

[Vince’s porridge is delicious. I asked him to bring you some—be sure to drink it while it’s hot!]

It was followed by a playful bunny emoji.

Gianna found herself at a loss for words to describe Roxan. The only thing she could do was marvel at her sheer audacity and composure.

She replied curtly. [If you like it so much, keep it for the New Year.]

Without waiting for a response, Gianna blocked and deleted all contact information for both Roxan and Vince.

The relief was instantaneous.

Her mood lifted, and her stomach growled in hunger—especially after she hadn’t eaten much the previous night. She headed to the kitchen and made herself a bowl of egg noodles.

As she was eating, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence. Vince walked in, and their eyes met across the living room.

He was holding a stainless steel thermos and smirked.

“So it really was an act. Only Roxan, that naïve girl, would believe you. She spent all night convincing me to make peace with you, despite you being the one who hurt her.”

Gianna didn’t reply, lowering her gaze and continuing to eat her noodles as though he didn’t exist.

Irritated by her indifference, Vince’s expression darkened. He changed his shoes and walked over to the dining table, placing the thermos down with a loud clank.

“What’s so great about this?” he sneered, glancing disdainfully at her bowl. “Here, eat the seafood porridge I made. At least that way you won’t have any excuse to run to my mother, complaining about how I treat you.”

Gianna didn’t even lift her gaze as she replied, “Take it or throw it away—I’m not eating it.”

Vince’s brows furrowed. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? Where did the kind, gentle girl who used to smile at everyone go? Gianna, the person you are now feels like a stranger.”

The faint trace of care in his words made Gianna chuckle coldly.

“Used to?” she repeated, putting down her spoon and standing up. Her eyes met his, and the warmth that once resided there was gone. Her gaze was as cold and lifeless as water at the bottom of a frozen pond.

“That Gianna is dead,” she intoned coldly.

She had died the moment her baby left her body, the moment her love and hope for him were crushed under the weight of countless disappointments.

Her words stunned Vince. His heart raced, his breath hitched, as if an icy hand was squeezing the life out of him. It was a feeling he had never experienced before—a deep unease that the woman before him might vanish from his world without a trace.

But that was impossible!

From childhood until now, Gianna had been his shadow, following him everywhere. Everyone could see her unwavering love for him. How could she possibly let it all go?

Before he could respond, Gianna was already clearing the table, her movements deliberate and methodical as she carried her dishes into the kitchen. The only sounds in the apartment were the clinking of porcelain and the rush of water from the faucet. Even her breathing seemed muted.

Vince stood there, staring at her. For the first time, he realized how much she had changed.

She used to have a healthy glow, her cheeks soft with a hint of baby fat. Her figure had been full of life, well-proportioned and vibrant. After her mother’s death, she had grown thinner, her smiles becoming rare. But now, her transformation was startling.

Her face was pallid and lifeless, her cheekbones and collarbones jutting out sharply. Her shoulder blades protruded like fragile wings, and her once-vibrant presence had diminished to nothing more than a shadow.

Gianna had become so unfamiliar to him that he almost didn’t recognize her.

“You...” Vince couldn’t help but speak up.

Gianna ignored him, calmly placing the washed dishes back in the cabinet. She removed her apron and brushed past him.

His gaze drifted downward, and his brows furrowed. Raising his voice, he called out, “Gianna, wait.”

She stopped but didn’t bother turning around. “What is it now?”

His voice carried a hint of awkwardness. “You... there’s a stain on the back of your pants. Looks like quite a lot. Is this a hormonal imbalance or something?”

Gianna took a deep breath, and she was just about to respond when Vince’s phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID, he didn’t hesitate to answer, his tone softening immediately. “Rox, what’s wrong?”

Through the receiver came a girl’s sobbing voice, broken by hiccups.

“Vince, I twisted my ankle while trying to change the light fixture. It’s so swollen and hurts so much. Can you come over? I’m scared...”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right there!” Vince anxiously replied.

Gianna didn’t care about their affairs. She turned and headed to her bedroom to change her pants.

“Gianna,” Vince called after her. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital on the way? That bleeding looks like a lot.”

His attempt at concern felt shallow and insincere, like a casual afterthought.

She paused at the door and smirked faintly. “No need. Have you ever heard of a woman dying from her period? You’d better hurry to Roxan’s house. It’s dangerous for a girl to be home alone.”

Hearing her mention Roxan, Vince’s unease grew stronger.

But Roxan’s sobbing on the phone became even more pitiful. Without time to think further, he said to Gianna, “Alright then, I’ll go. Take care of yourself and drink more water if you’re not feeling well.”

Gianna didn’t respond. She simply closed the door.

For the next two days, Vince didn’t return.

It wasn’t hard to guess why—Roxan must have made him stay. Not that it mattered to Gianna; his absence only made things more convenient for her.

The bags Michelle had gifted her had already been sold as nine-tenths new, bringing in over 1.2 million dollars.

Having spent so many years with the Perkins family, Gianna knew that Michelle had always wanted to recover the couple’s heirloom pocket watch—a memento from her youth with Vince's late father. However, the demands of running the company after her husband’s death had left no time to track it down.

Years ago, Gianna had seen a photograph of the watch and taken a picture of it herself. She had quietly asked a friend to help locate it. Last month, her friend informed her that it had finally been found.

If not for the incident with the baby, she would have already brought it back. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late now.

Early the next morning, the package containing the pocket watch arrived. Though it bore some minor scratches, the photograph of Perkins family inside remained intact. That alone made it worthwhile.

Gianna was about to call Michelle to share the good news when her phone rang.

“Gia, can you come to the old house?” Michelle’s voice was tinged with frustration. “That Roxan has stirred up trouble again.”

From their conversation, Gianna quickly understood the gist of what had happened.

It was almost laughable. Roxan’s leech-like parents had shown up outside the TerraLink Group headquarters, causing a scene and demanding some “pocket money” from their son-in-law, the general manager.

Everyone knew that Vince’s wife was Gianna. Her father had passed away in an accident years ago, and her mother had died, saving the former TerraLink Group general manager.

Now, two random people were claiming to be his “in-laws,” causing a public spectacle.

What even more outrageous was Roxan’s mother, who, after crying and making a scene, went as far as to hoist a banner proclaiming that Roxan was Vince’s “second wife.” She essentially admitted that her daughter was a mistress, destroying another woman’s marriage.

The news exploded online. Media outlets rushed to report the scandal. Within half a day, the TerraLink Group building was swarmed by onlookers and reporters, leaving no room to breathe.