5

Margery’s POV

When I woke up again, I found myself in the hospital—with no one by my side.

My phone buzzed. It was another message from Wanda.

The video showed Gibson treating her with the utmost tenderness. Every small wound on her body was enough to make his expression fill with pain and pity.

I stared at the screen in silence for a long moment, then saved all of the videos.

Along with them, I transferred the surveillance footage from the funeral—the moment when Gibson and Wanda had raised their hands against me—onto a flash drive.

For the next two days, neither of them appeared before me.

The only reminders of their presence were the endless stream of videos Wanda sent, flaunting how blissfully happy they were together.

For the tiniest scratch on her skin, Gibson not only called every doctor in the vicinity but even went so far as to hire top specialists from nearby cities.

In those two days at the hospital, I lost count of how many nurses and patients spoke enviously of Wanda.

And yet, strangely enough, my heart had gone completely still.

After packing my things, I returned to the villa in Belltown. This place was meant to be my marital home with Gibson.

But now, I had made up my mind—I was moving out.

I gathered all the letters he had written to me, the handmade trinkets he had crafted, the preserved flowers he had painstakingly put together, and the little clay figurines that represented “us.”

In this, Gibson had never failed. Every thoughtful gesture, every gift wrapped in love, every tender look—each one had only driven me deeper into a delusion.

But as I looked back now, I realized none of it should have ever existed.

One by one, I threw it all into the fire.

As the flames roared to life, the affection I had once held for Gibson burned away with them, until nothing remained but ashes.

And it was at that very moment—when the fire had nearly consumed everything—that Gibson appeared with Wanda at his side.

His brows furrowed as he looked at me. Behind him, Wanda wore a smug, triumphant smile.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

I said nothing.

He was about to press further, but Wanda tugged lightly at his sleeve.

Immediately, his expression shifted into one of unease.

“Because of what happened a few days ago, Wanda’s health has been fragile,” he said at last. “She’s moving into the villa. That way, I can take proper care of her. Think of it… as my way of atoning for you.”

As he finished, he protected Wanda behind him, as if I were the threat.

The sight of his guarded stance tore a laugh from my throat.

“You destroyed my mother’s funeral for her. You even smashed her ashes. And now, you dare say this is atonement?”

My scorn made his brows knit deeper.

Meanwhile, Wanda’s eyes filled instantly with tears.

“Gibson, maybe I should just leave,” she whispered. “Even though my wounds still hurt, I can bear it. It doesn’t matter.”

She turned as if to go, but Gibson caught her hand at once.

“You’re always so considerate, Wanda. Even when you’re not at fault, you still think of others. Don’t worry. You’re moving in. If anyone dares object, then they can pack their things and leave!”

He said it deliberately, his gaze cutting toward me.

I let out a cold laugh. “You don’t have to drive me out. I have no intention of living under the same roof as people like you.”

Without waiting for a response, I went upstairs, grabbed the suitcase I had already packed, and walked straight out of the villa without sparing them a glance.

Gibson hadn’t expected me to be so decisive. He must have remembered what had happened at the funeral. His eyes flickered with panic and something like… pain.

“Wait—” he called after me, stepping forward.

But before he could take more than a few steps, Wanda tugged at his sleeve with wounded fragility.

He hesitated. And at that moment of hesitation, all he could do was watch my back as I continued to walk away.

6

Margery’s POV

That night, I had barely finished packing when I received another video from Wanda. I hadn’t even had a chance to lie down before the message lit up my phone.

The moment I opened it, their bodies filled the screen—Wanda and Gibson entangled, only inches apart. They were wrapped around each other; Wanda looked utterly seductive, every inch the opposite of the fragile woman she’d shown by day.

I closed my eyes for a beat, then copied the file onto the flash drive.

The next morning, I straightened myself, checked my reflection once, and set off for a party I hadn’t planned on attending—one I only honored because I’d previously promised the host.

At the hall, I hadn’t even said hello to my friends before I saw him—Gibson, calmly moving through the crowd.

And by his side, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, stood Wanda.

Everyone knew Gibson and I were supposed to be engaged. He had every right to come, but to appear with Wanda like this—openly, without an ounce of shame—felt like an insult flung across my face.

I stopped dead and stared at the two of them, unable to tear my eyes away from their brazen closeness.

“Why did you bring her?” I asked, my voice steady but small.

Gibson’s face gave nothing away; his expression was composed.

“Wanda only wanted to see what one of these things is like—to broaden her horizons a little, you know. You should be more understanding,” he said, as if offering a trivial explanation.

He turned away at the timid tug of Wanda’s hand, not bothering to consider what I was supposed to do where I stood.

He led Wanda away without ceremony, leaving me to the furious look that must have shown plainly on my face.

Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind over dry grass.

“Isn’t Margery supposed to be Gibson’s fiancée? Then… why is that woman by his side instead of her?”

“Don’t you know? That’s the woman he actually likes. I bet his bride is going to be replaced soon.”

Hearing that, I could no longer hold myself together. My palms clenched so tightly that I could feel the strain in my knuckles.

And then, like a punch to the gut, I recognized a familiar face in the crowd—one of the men who had stormed my mother’s operating room!

I sprang forward.

The man seemed to sense me and quickened his pace.

We rounded a corner; I nearly had him. My fingers brushed his sleeve—almost enough to grab his arm and drag him to the cops.

But then, like a shadow, a pair of hands shot out from behind me and clamped down.

“Let go of me!” I snarled, but before I could finish the sentence, I was slammed hard to the ground.

I gasped and twisted to look—Gibson stood over me, his eyes burning with contempt, while Wanda flushed and pressed to his side.

His voice was hoarse, layered with disgust.

“Margery! Why would you drug Wanda? She only wanted to try being at a party, and you wanted to make her a spectacle! That’s unforgivable!”

He tightened his grip on my hair and forced my head up so I had no choice but to look at him.

“I… I didn’t—” I choked out, anger and breath both squeezed thin.

But he didn’t listen. His gaze only went cold.

“You need to be taught a lesson.”

Just like that, he gestured to the bodyguards behind him. One stepped forward without hesitation.

“Fill the pool with ice,” Gibson ordered. “Throw her in. Don’t let her out until the sun’s up.”

With Wanda tangled against him and panting, he turned and left. Suddenly, the world narrowed to a humming in my ears; my thoughts scattered like startled birds.

I hadn’t yet found the strength to stand when the guards hauled me away.

With a splash, I was dumped into the pool—a hollow of water packed with jagged ice.

My body shook uncontrollably. I tried to climb out, fingers clawing at the wet edge, but a guard kicked me back down.

Pain spiked through me with every breath; the cold stole my strength as surely as a thief takes pocket change.

From the rooms above, silhouettes moved. Through the frost of my vision, I could see them shifting—close, intimate—while moans and low sounds leaked into the night.

Even though I had long known they were involved in everything, to witness it with my own eyes—my promised husband tangled with another woman—brought a grief so sharp that it felt like drowning.

My chest tightened until breathing itself began to sting.

I shivered until my lower body ached, and then, horrible and sudden, blood flooded between my legs. Hot, profuse crimson rose through the icy shock.

The next moment came as darkness rushing in: I could not hold on. My limbs went loose; the world tipped away, and I slipped into black.

7

Margery’s POV

When I opened my eyes again, I was already in a hospital.

Everything in front of me was blurred. My hands trembled as I reached for my belly.

After losing my mother, I had lost my child because of Gibson and Wanda. The realization hit like a physical blow; my eyes instantly went bloodshot

I needed to finish my plan.

I would turn every loss into arrows of revenge.

I swore I would drive those arrows into Gibson and Wanda’s hearts and make them feel the suffocating pain I felt!

Gibson did not come to see me until the sun climbed high. He looked anxious; his clothes were creased and stained with an unidentified liquid.

“Margery, I didn’t know you were pregnant. I never wanted this to happen,” he said, rushing closer.

As he approached, the scent of Wanda’s perfume on him invaded my nose like poison.

My voice was hoarse when I snarled, “Get away from me!”

He froze for a moment, then said, “About yesterday, you weren’t without fault either. If you hadn’t drugged Wanda, I wouldn’t have had to use myself to counter the drug. I wouldn’t have punished you, and our child might still be alive…”

He laid every accusation at my feet as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I scoffed. “Was there no hospital nearby? Couldn’t you have taken her there instead of using yourself as an antidote? I’ve told you, Gibson, I didn’t drug her! Won’t you investigate?”

Rage made my voice tremble.

Gibson reached out as if to soothe me, but I recoiled without mercy.

Pain flickered across his face. Before he could say more, Wanda’s voice came from the doorway.

“Gibson, let me explain to Margery. We were both forced yesterday. It’s understandable if she doesn’t want to see me. I’ll apologize properly.”

She stepped in with a pitiful look, and as soon as Gibson couldn’t see, a smug smile crept across her face. A red mark—Gibson’s handiwork from the day before—rimmed her neck.

I glared, disgusted, and moved to drive her out, but Wanda grabbed my hand and pinned it down.

Seeing Gibson watching with concern at the door, she whispered, “Have you ever fully satisfied him? The day your mother died, Gibson was already in my bed. I put the drugs in myself yesterday. I heard your baby was lost? What a delight. If you don’t leave us alone, let me give you more surprises, dear. Next time, we’ll plaster photos of you in bed all over Seattle. How about that?”

That was the last straw. I shoved her away hard.

“Get out! Get out of here, you bitch! I won’t let you go!” I cried, slapping her with everything I had—wanting to beat the life out of her right on the hospital floor.

As expected, she covered her face and played the injured, wronged innocent.

Gibson strode forward and pushed me down onto the bed, his face a storm.

“Margery! How long are you going to go after Wanda? She came to apologize and you attacked her! Your miscarriage is your own doing! Don’t blame her for it!”

He scooped Wanda into his arms, his eyes full of disappointment as he looked at me.

“If you insist on holding the wedding on schedule, then stay in the hospital until the wedding day! Don’t come out until then!”

He turned and left, carrying her. From behind him, Wanda’s face was full of malice.

With a click, the door was locked tight.

I lay back on the bed and laughed—wild, hysterical laughter that turned instantly to tears.

My face was soaked, tears soaking the pillow and leaving deep, wet grooves.

True to Gibson’s words, he didn’t release me until the wedding day. A guard gave me a contemptuous glance and handed me the wedding dress.

“Mr. Gibson ordered you to wear it and go straight to the venue.”

I took the dress with a calmness that puzzled them and walked toward the stairwell.

Perhaps, they didn’t expect me to leave Gibson on my wedding day, so no one followed me.

I shoved the lavish gown into a trash bin in the hospital stairwell and left.

Outside, the cab I’d booked was waiting.

Back at my apartment, I grabbed my luggage and documents and went to the airport.

Before boarding, I sent one last message.

[Execute the original plan. Display every piece of evidence I prepared, one by one, at the wedding. I want Gibson and Wanda to suffer unbearably!]

After that, I snapped my SIM card in two and tossed the halves into a trash can.

From that moment on, the sky was wide and I could fly; Gibson and I would never see each other again!