Just as I was about to struggle to get up, I heard Scott’s anxious voice. "Abigail, what happened? How did you fall out of your wheelchair?"

He rushed over and scooped me up effortlessly, holding me close before kneeling to check my legs for injuries. His touch was as careful and gentle as ever, but it no longer felt warm. No longer felt real.

"I'm fine," I said quietly. "I just wanted to see if I could stand."

Scott's expression softened instantly. He pulled me into his arms, his voice filled with pity.

He said, "Abigail, don't worry. I'll always take care of you. Even if you can’t stand for the rest of your life, it doesn’t matter to me. And our baby is already eight months along, I swear, once our child is born, I’ll devote myself completely to you both."

If I hadn’t overheard that conversation outside the study, I might have been touched. I might have believed him, let his words ease the ache in my chest.

But now, all I felt was cold.

"Oh, right," Scott said suddenly, his tone casual, like he hadn’t just shattered my world. "An expert from abroad arrived today. I met with him earlier, he says he can help with your delivery, but the process will be painful. You’ll have to endure a little more discomfort each day."

Then, as if it were nothing, he added, "You know how hard it was for us to conceive this child. We have to make sure the birth goes smoothly, no matter what."

At his signal, a doctor in a white coat stepped into the room, carrying a syringe as thick as my finger. My breath caught. I shook my head and looked at Scott. "I don’t need the injection. The baby will be fine."

For a split second, his face hardened. A flicker of irritation crossed his features, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Then, in a voice that left no room for argument, he said, "No. This is for your own good."

Before I could protest, he shoved my shoulders down. The needle plunged into my spine.

Pain exploded through me; cold, sharp, unbearable. The sensation twisted deep, spreading like fire and ice all at once. My body trembled violently, and as darkness crept in, I realized something.

Whatever love I had left for Scott, it was gone. When I woke again, it was late. The room was dim, silent except for the faint sound of Scott’s breathing.

He was still there, sitting by my side. Scott’s face was full of worry when I opened my eyes. "Abigail, you're awake! Are you feeling okay? The doctor said the baby is doing great. He even called you the bravest mother in the world!"

He looked at me like he actually cared, like I was supposed to be touched by his words. But all I could manage was a bitter smile.

I reached up and brushed my fingers against his tired, red-rimmed eyes. "I'm fine. You should get some rest."

It didn’t take long for his breathing to slow beside me.

That was when I noticed the spare phone on the nightstand, the one he always kept close but never let me touch. I had never tried to unlock it in the four years we had been married.

Tonight, I did.

It took only one guess, sure enough, it was Jacqueline’s birthday. The first thing I saw was his pinned chat: [Lovely Jacqueline.]

I clicked on it.

The messages were endless. Sweet, thoughtful. Full of warmth and care, more than I had ever received from him.

She sent him pictures, and he responded with the kind of affection I used to wish for. Every single one of her photos was saved.

An entire album. A thousand pictures labeled as: [LOML.]

Love of My Life, huh? I already knew, deep down. But seeing it spelled out so clearly still hit me like a punch to the chest. Tears burned in my eyes, slipping down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Then I checked his private drive. Thirteen years’ worth of memories, all about Jacqueline. Even her menstrual cycle was marked in red. A "special reminder."

And yet, when we were newly married, when I curled up in pain from years of untreated injuries, Scott had just glanced at me, stone-faced, and muttered, "Why are you being so dramatic?"

Then he’d walked away.

It took me until today to finally get it. It wasn’t that Scott couldn’t love someone. He just couldn’t love me.

Then I saw a message that made my stomach drop. The date was our wedding day. [If marrying her makes you happy, then I’m willing to sacrifice.]

His words were simple, but the meaning hit like a punch.

The perfect love story, except I was the sacrifice. And all the love belonged to Jacqueline. Fine. If that was how it was, I would play my part.

The next morning, I woke up to a sharp pain in my back as a cold needle pierced my skin. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

I barely had the strength to lift my head, but when I did, I met Scott’s worried gaze. "Abigail, I know this is hard on you, but it’s all for our child. You don’t blame me, right? Once the baby is born, I’ll make sure they know how incredible their mother was."

His voice was so soft, so sincere. As if every word he said was the truth. But I knew better.

I didn’t bother arguing. I just nodded. Scott smiled, clearly relieved. He called for the nanny to bring over the special soup she had prepared, then carefully blew on each spoonful before feeding me, as if he was afraid it might burn me.

For a second, I almost believed in this version of him. Almost. But the lingering ache in my spine reminded me, this was all real. And none of it was love.

After dinner, Scott left to take care of some work. That was when my phone rang.

"Ms. Langley," an old yet familiar voice said. "Just reminding you, two days from now, everything is set. Don’t forget our agreement."

It was Yosef Lambert from the Dragon Squad. We had trained together years ago.

I glanced down at my swollen belly. "I won’t forget. Just make sure you do what you promised. He has to believe I’m dead, I have to die in front of Scott."

The line went dead. Right then, the door swung open.

Scott leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "I heard my name, what exactly are you planning to do in front of me, honey?"

I quickly locked my phone and kept my voice even. "Nothing, just asking the psychologist if giving birth in front of you might traumatize you for life."

Scott didn’t even hesitate, just pulled me into a hug, his voice thick with emotion. "How could it? You went through hell for our child. The least I can do is be there. Besides, I’m the team leader, I’ve seen worse."

I just smiled at him, saying nothing.

"By the way, Abigail," he continued, "we’re having a celebration tonight. It’s for the successful recovery of the Dragon Squad and to prep for the mission the day after tomorrow. You’ve been through enough lately, so get some rest, I won’t be home."

I shook my head. "Take me with you."

Scott's expression tightened. "No. You're still recovering, and I won’t allow it."

And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving me in the bedroom. But how could I sit this one out? A party to celebrate what cost me my legs, I had every right to be there.

At 7 p.m., I rolled myself into the venue. Glasses clinked, laughter filled the air, but as soon as I entered, the whispers started.

"Isn’t that Mr. Foster’s wife? She never shows up to these things."

"I mean… she was impressive once, but now? Just dead weight."

"Poor Chief. He’s stuck with her. If he’d married Commander Beckett instead, he’d actually be happy."

"I think old feelings might spark up again. Didn't you see them step out to the terrace together?"

Hearing that, I turned my wheelchair toward the terrace and overheard a familiar conversation.

"Jacqueline, don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault that Jared has azoospermia," Scott said.

"But I still feel incomplete," Jacqueline replied. "And my mother-in-law won’t let me forget it. Scott, I can’t wait any longer, please, help me."

Scott’s expression softened with heartache, his eyes filled with something I had never seen before; hesitation, longing.

Then, without missing a beat, he pulled out his phone and made a call. "Dr. Ainsley, I want my wife to have a C-section the day after tomorrow. Get everything ready."

"Mr. Foster, that’s risky," the doctor warned. "It’s too soon after the cell fluid injection. Surgery now could be dangerous, and she’d almost certainly lose her uterus."

Scott didn’t even flinch. "It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my decision. Whatever it takes, I want Jacqueline to be a mother."

But what about me, Scott? Was I nothing more than a means to an end? Was my body just something to be sacrificed for your great love?

Tears burned my eyes, but before I could wipe them away, my wheelchair bumped into a vase, knocking it over with a loud crash.

Scott turned sharply, a flicker of panic in his gaze. "Abigail, when did you get here? Did you hear—"

"I didn’t hear anything," I cut in smoothly. "I just got here when I heard voices on the terrace."

Relief washed over his face. Jacqueline gave me a polite smile. "Abigail, long time no see."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah, it’s been a while. I was bored at home, so I thought I’d come out for some fresh air. But I’m good now, I will leave you two to it."

I turned to leave, but Scott caught up quickly, slipping his suit jacket over my shoulders. Crouching in front of me, he met my gaze. "Don't overthink it. Jacqueline is the team commander. I invited her here to discuss the upcoming battle, nothing more."

Scott’s tender expression had the cameras flashing nonstop, capturing what looked like a heartfelt moment. But I knew the truth, he wasn’t doing this for me. He just didn’t want Jacqueline’s reputation to take a hit.

"It’s fine, I’m not that petty. You two go ahead and talk. I’ll head home," I said with a small smile, turning away before he could see through it.

Back home, I went straight to the nursery, grabbed every piece of baby clothing I had knitted, and tossed them into the trash. This child was never meant to exist.

Scott walked in just as the last tiny sweater landed in the bin. His eyes flickered with surprise. "Why are you throwing those away?"

I kept my voice even. "It’s too early for the baby to be born. These are useless now."

Scott didn’t press further, but Jacqueline’s lips curled ever so slightly. "Oh? Well, I have a relative who’s about to have a baby. Mind if I take them?"

I paused, then shook my head. "No. I made these for my child. If you need baby clothes, go buy them yourself."

I turned to leave, but before I could take another step, Jacqueline grabbed my arm, her nails sinking into my skin.

"You’d rather throw them away than let me have them? Do you really hate me that much?" she asked, her voice soft, almost pitiful.

A sharp sting shot up my arm as I pulled free. Jacqueline staggered back dramatically. "Scott, help me!"

Scott lunged forward, catching her just in time. Then, without hesitation, he turned to me, his face cold, his movements swift.

The slap came out of nowhere. My head snapped to the side, and before I could react, I was on the floor, my wheelchair tilting slightly from the impact.

"Abigail, when did you become so heartless?" His voice was low, filled with disappointment.