"Kylian... I’m scared. Can’t we just give the baby formula?" I looked at Kylian with pleading eyes, my voice trembling.

Back when I was rushed to the emergency room after being beaten by his mother, hadn’t the baby done just fine on formula?

But Kylian’s eyes were only on Kiran—he didn’t see the desperation in mine.

“If you truly care about the baby, then cooperate with the lactation specialist. Don’t worry—as long as you love Kiran, I’ll love him even more!”

With that, he handed the baby to Mauricio, then personally restrained my arms and legs before coldly instructing the specialist.

“Begin.”

His voice was icy—completely devoid of warmth. It chilled me to the bone.

The physical pain in my chest couldn’t even compare to the ache in my heart. My resistance meant nothing.

After the acupuncture and massage, Kiran finally fed to his heart’s content. And just like that, Kylian was so moved he burst into tears, hugging me tightly.

“Honey, thank you. You’ve suffered so much... I swear, I’ll never let you down for the rest of my life!”

His burning tears splashed onto my skin—but they couldn’t melt the ice that had frozen over my heart.

I shoved him away.

“Take him to rest. I’m tired.”

Kylian gently ruffled my hair, eyes brimming with emotion.

“Raising a child is no easy task. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Once you’re discharged, we’ll throw a grand celebration for Kiran’s birth. I want the whole world to know—I’m a father!”

He seemed so proud to be a father to someone else’s child. I didn’t even have the strength to mock him anymore.

I gave a bitter smile, silently cursing my own blindness. From childhood sweethearts to marriage and childbirth—for over twenty years, I never saw through who Kylian really was.

Seeing my smile, he gently took my hand, interlacing our fingers.

“Honey, I had a master read Kiran’s fortune. He said Kiran needs a godmother whose birth chart aligns with his. So I—”

“Alright. Whatever you decide.”

I knew what he was trying to do—give Felicity the “motherhood” experience she missed out on.

Fine. In ten days, I’d be gone. She could take over her role as the real mother.

—

Felicity arrived at the hospital room like a star—surrounded by Kylian’s group of loyal friends.

Everyone else carried fruit baskets while Felicity held a bouquet of flowers.

She smiled sweetly, shoving the flowers into my arms like we were old friends.

“Amber, giving birth must have been hard, huh? You look half-dead—good thing I decided never to have kids. But I do love children. In fact, I should be thanking you for letting me have the chance to be a mom...”

She paused, giggled, and corrected herself.

“Oops—not mom. Godmother! Sorry, I can be a little blunt sometimes. Hope you don’t mind?”

Everyone turned to look at me, like they were waiting for a show.

From the ridicule in their eyes, I could tell—they all knew I was just a surrogate.

I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly began sneezing uncontrollably.

Pollen allergy. Reflexively, I tossed the bouquet aside.

Felicity’s smile faded as her eyes welled up with tears. She turned to Kylian like a wounded child.

“Kylian... does she not like me?”

Kylian immediately stepped in with a frown, smoothing things over.

“A godmother is still a mother—just like a biological one.”

Felicity beamed with delight and reached for my hand again, putting on a show of affection.

“Amber, I just love kids too much. From now on, I’ll help you raise our baby!”

The itching on my skin was unbearable. I pulled my hand away and rang the nurse’s bell.

“Can someone bring me some antihistamines?”

Only then did Kylian seem to remember that I was allergic to pollen. He grabbed the flowers and threw them outside the room.

But then—he also tossed the medicine the nurse brought... straight into the trash.

“You’re breastfeeding. You can’t just take any medicine. Endure it—it’ll pass.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.

Back when I was pregnant, I once went into anaphylactic shock from pollen exposure.

Kylian panicked, carrying me all the way to the hospital in his arms.

Afterward, when I was finally out of danger, he couldn’t stop blaming himself.

He treated me like I was a priceless treasure, going to great lengths to remove every possible allergen from my environment.

But now? I was nothing more than a wet nurse to him.

And yet now, Kylian told me to “endure it.”

A glint of triumph flashed in Felicity’s eyes, though her expression quickly shifted into a pitiful pout—eyes red like a rabbit’s.

“Amber, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were allergic to pollen. Do you think Kiran might inherit your allergy too?”

I looked at her—dressed in a designer outfit, wearing delicate makeup—then down at myself, still in a wrinkled nursing gown, barefaced, worn out from childbirth. The contrast couldn’t have been starker.

“Why would he be allergic?” I said flatly. “He’s not even my child.”

For some reason, Kylian’s heart skipped a beat. She shouldn’t know... he thought. She’s not supposed to know the truth.

He leaned close to my ear and murmured gently, “Honey, what are you saying? Didn’t we agree not to bring up the baby's parentage anymore?”

His voice was low and soothing, laced with helpless affection.

I turned to look at his face—the same face that once overflowed with love when I first became pregnant.

Back then, my morning sickness was so severe he learned to cook from scratch just to make meals I could stomach.

He showered me with limited-edition handbags and jewelry, trying to keep me in good spirits every day.

He never missed a single prenatal checkup. Even if it meant losing billion-dollar deals, he always came home in time for nightly baby bonding rituals.

And when he found out the child wasn’t his by blood, he never blamed me. He only expressed regret that his mother had hit me.

Each gesture, each sacrifice—how could it not feel like love?

But now, the unbearable itching on my skin and the growing tightness in my throat told me the truth.

Kylian’s love was never for me. It was for the child I carried—for Felicity’s child.

Now that the baby was born, my only remaining value was to help raise someone else’s son.

As I slipped into unconsciousness, I let out a faint, bitter smile and whispered to his anxious face, “How long do you plan to keep lying to me...”

But Kylian didn’t hear me—he was too busy frantically pressing the call button, summoning doctors to save me.

To “make it up to me,” he insisted on throwing me a birthday banquet the next day after my condition had stabilized.

He presented a full set of gemstone jewelry as my birthday gift.

I barely spared it a glance. My eyes were fixed on a text notification that just popped up on my phone.

The visa application was approved.

“What good news has you smiling like that, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just a lame scam text,” I replied flatly.

Felicity’s smile faltered as she watched us from across the room. Jealousy flared in her eyes, and her grip on the baby tightened.

Kiran immediately wailed in pain.

Thinking he was hungry again, Kylian quickly urged me to nurse him.

I hesitated, wanting to refuse—but then I remembered I was still officially unmarried, and my visa had finally come through.

This double dose of liberation softened me just enough to be kind—one last time—to the child who’d shared my body for ten months.

I took him to a spare guest room.

But just as I sat down, Felicity followed me inside and closed the door behind her.

Gone was the sweet act. Glaring at me, she sneered.

“Amber, you used your childhood sweetheart status to get Kylian's mother to drive me away and forced your way into marrying Kylian. Bet you never expected it to end like this, huh?”

“Ten months of pregnancy just to give birth to my child—how does it feel being forced into a glorified wet nurse?”

“Even if that old hag made Kylian marry you, so what? You’ll never have his love. Not even the child you gave birth is really yours. Honestly? If I were you, I’d have found a quiet place to die by now.”

Her voice was venomous, every word meant to pierce.

But I was in such a good mood—knowing I’d soon be leaving this twisted farce behind—I didn’t even feel like responding.

My indifference only fueled her rage.

She whipped out her phone and shoved the screen in my face, her tone turning manic.

“Look! See this? Daily transfers—1,314,520 dollars every single day. That number spells ‘I will love you for a lifetime.’ Each one is proof of Kylian’s undying love for me!”

“Look at this—Kylian saw me kissing my boyfriend in a photo and didn’t even get mad. All he cared about was whether I was happy and if I had enough money to spend!”

“Unlike you... That so-called birthday gift you got was just a high-end counterfeit. Kylian went through all that trouble just to make it look real!”

I stared at her, unable to understand.

"If you loved each other so deeply, why not just be together?"

"Why drag me into your cruel game?"

I voiced this question out loud. Felicity scoffed at me like I was an idiot.

“It’s because he can’t fully have me that he’s obsessed. Don’t you get it? That’s the best way to keep a man wrapped around your finger.”

“All I have to do is say a word and Kylian will believe me—he’ll do anything for me. He already manipulated both you and that old hag of a mother-in-law to suit my plans.”

“Honestly, I was going to string you along forever—but since you went through all that trouble giving birth to my son, I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you go.”

She sneered, eyes glittering with malice.

“Still don’t believe me? Let’s bet on it. Let’s see who Kylian really cares about.”

I didn’t even have time to react.

Felicity suddenly slapped Kiran across the face—hard.

The infant, barely a month old, began to bleed from the nose and scream in agony, his face turning purple from the force of his cries.

But Felicity—shameless as ever—covered her own face, swung open the door, and burst into fake sobs as she cried out, “Help! Kylian, please help! Your wife didn’t want to breastfeed and hit Kiran! He’s bleeding!”

Kylian, who had been toasting guests with wine in hand, went pale the moment he heard her.

He rushed to the room like a madman.

When he saw his son covered in blood and too weak to cry, he snatched the child from Felicity’s arms—then turned and slapped me across the face with all his strength.

“Even a tiger wouldn’t hurt its own cub! All I asked was for you to feed him—how could you do this to our son?!”

I clutched my cheek, stunned.

No matter how much I hated Kylian, I had never—not once—considered harming the child.

“It wasn’t me. It was Felicity—she hit him!”

“Impossible!” he snapped. “Felicity is his godmother—she would never lay a hand on him!”

Disappointment darkened his face as he raised his foot and kicked me with all his might.

The force slammed me into the mirrored dressing wall, which shattered instantly.

Shards of glass pierced into my back, pain exploding through my body until I couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.

“Amber, if anything happens to my son, I swear I’ll make your life a living hell! Looks like you’re tired of being Mrs. Romero!”

He spat out his threat and stormed out of the room with the baby in his arms.

Pretending to panic, Felicity quickly followed after him.

But just as she stepped out of the room, she looked back at me—and mouthed proudly.

“You lost.”

What was supposed to be a joyous birthday banquet ended in disaster.

As the guests filed out, some still cursed me—the venomous woman who dared harm a child—but not a single person came to help me up from the shattered glass.

I wiped the blood off my hands, smiled faintly, and turned off the audio recording I had hastily started earlier.

Then I quietly left. I went to a nearby clinic, had my wounds treated, and returned home in pain.

I hired a housekeeper to help me pack.

In just two short hours, the place I once called “home” was wiped clean of all traces of me.

I rescheduled my flight—originally set for three days later—and moved it to tonight.

Then, I made two copies of all the recordings and paternity test results.

One set, I handed to a lawyer to deliver directly to Kylian's mother.

The other copy, I mailed to someone in the same city.

As I passed through airport security, Kylian finally remembered me—only because he needed someone to feed the baby.

[Kiran is fine now, the doctors said he’s okay. Come to the hospital and nurse him, calm him down a bit.]

That message was followed by fifty two thousand dollar transfer.

So this was his idea of an apology—spending the least possible amount to keep me playing the role of a milk cow.

I ignored the flood of phone calls from him.

Only when I was about to board did I finally send him a reply.

[Kylian, goodbye. Wishing you, Felicity, and your precious baby a lifetime of happiness together.]

A moment later, my phone began to ring again nonstop.

I chuckled softly, then removed the SIM card and tossed both it and the phone into a nearby trash can.

Without a backward glance, I walked away.