Our fifth wedding anniversary was supposed to be a celebration. Five years with my husband Nathan. Five months carrying our first child. I had even booked our favorite table at the little Italian restaurant where he first told me he loved me.

I thought it would be perfect, but rather I was dragged into a van by strangers in black masks.

When I woke, my wrists were bound, my mouth dry, and the air reeked of sweat and gasoline. The dim lightbulb above me swayed gently, illuminating the two men standing over me.

“Call your husband,” one of them ordered, shoving a phone into my hand. “Tell him the ransom. Twenty-million dollars. Now.”

My hands trembled as I dialed Nathan’s number from memory. My heart screamed for him to answer, to tell me everything was going to be okay.

But the voice that answered wasn’t his.

It was a woman. Moaning.

I froze, my heart plummeting into my stomach. The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor.

The kidnappers exchanged a look, confusion turning to irritation. “What the hell was that?” one snapped.

When I didn’t answer, his eyes darkened. “You think this is a game? Maybe we’ll just take what we came for.”

The other man’s gaze dropped to my swollen belly.

“No, please!” I screamed, kicking, fighting, the chair scraping against the concrete floor.

One of them pulled out a glinting blade. The cold air hit my skin as they ripped through the fabric of my dress.

Pain exploded in my abdomen—a searing, tearing agony that stole my breath. My scream was so raw it scraped my throat bloody. I felt warmth spill down my legs, the metallic scent flooding the room. My baby. My child.

And then—footsteps. Heavy. Certain.

The door burst open. Nathan. Gun in hand.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice almost casual. “I’m late.”

But his image was already fading, the edges of the world collapsing inward. The adrenaline drained from my body, replaced with cold, suffocating emptiness.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was to the sterile white walls of a hospital room. My body ached everywhere. My hands instinctively went to my stomach.

Empty.

The silence around me was deafening. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. And then, outside the door, I heard him—Nathan.

“…make sure you pay the kidnappers,” he was saying into the phone. “Let them go and make sure they never come back to tell anyone I was the reason for the kidnapping and the loss of the baby.”

My breath caught.

The other voice on the line, a woman’s voice, answered coldly. “You know how evil you are? You just killed your son with Jasmine. And you pretended to be her savior when you planned everything. What if she learns the truth?”

“She won’t,” Nathan replied without hesitation. “That’s why she’ll never find out. I only wanted a child with Carrie. Now that she’s back, I’ll take care of her.”

The voice scoffed. “She left you for years, Nathan. And now you choose her over Jasmine? What about your wife who’s been there for you?”

“You know it’s always been Carrie, Mom,” he said, “Even when she left me. I married Jasmine because I needed her family’s influence. I still intend to keep her for as long as I need her… for business. And she’s barren now because I made sure of it. I had her ovaries removed.”

The floor tilted beneath me, even though I was lying down. I felt myself sinking again, my chest tightening until the darkness took me for the second time.

When I opened my eyes, Nathan was beside my bed.

“Jas—God, are you okay? I’m so sorry I was late. I’m sorry about the baby. I—”

“I called you,” I said weakly, my voice trembling, “and a woman answered.”

He blinked, then forced a laugh. “My phone was snatched before I got there. That’s why I was late. You think I’d do something like that to you? Never.”

I stared at him, the lie rolling off his tongue so smoothly it almost sounded like truth. Almost. But I knew better now.

I said nothing more. I just turned my head away.

Nathan leaned closer, brushing my hair back. “I’ll protect you from now on. I promise. You and the baby—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening before correcting, “You and… our future.”

Before I could respond, his phone rang. Nathan reached for it and the butler’s voice came through. “Sir, something happened to Miss Carrie. She fainted due to lack of blood.”

Carrie. My half-sister.

Nathan’s expression shifted instantly, urgency flashing in his eyes. “I’ll come right away.” He looked at me quickly. “I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, the tears I had been holding back finally spilled over.

I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t pretend anymore.

With trembling fingers, I grabbed my phone. My voice was raw when I spoke, but the words came out clear.

“Do you still want to marry me, Jameson?”

“Do you still want to marry me, Jameson?”

The line went silent for a moment, as if the man on the other end needed time to process what I had just said. Then… a laugh—low, deep, and dripping with disbelief.

“Well, well… Jasmine,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue like he was savoring the taste of it. “The queen who rejected me. My family’s greatest rival. The woman who humiliated me in front of the press five years ago because of that bastard Nathan.” He chuckled again, colder this time. “And now you’re calling me? Asking me to marry you? Did you finally realize your precious husband is an asshole?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. My voice didn’t waver, not even once.

The silence on the line shifted. His tone darkened. “Explain.”

“He betrayed me,” I said slowly, my voice tight, my fingers gripping the phone so hard they hurt. “He killed our baby, Jameson. He planned my kidnapping. He ripped my child from me before I could even hold him. And now… now he’s back with Carrie.”

Jameson said nothing, but I could almost hear the shift in his breathing.

“I want to take revenge,” I continued. “And I know you can help me. In return, I’ll do anything you want. So pick me up after five days.”

I didn’t give him the chance to answer. I hung up, my chest rising and falling like I’d just run miles.

The silence in the room was deafening. My own words echoed in my head—marry me, Jameson—and yet, I felt no regret. It was better to be with my enemy than to stay with a husband who had betrayed me in the worst way possible… who had killed our child before I could even whisper his name.

And all I could do was cry.

That night, Nathan didn’t come back. Not even the next day.

By the time the sun streamed through the blinds, my phone buzzed with a message from Nathan’s account. For a brief, pathetic moment, I thought it might be him finally apologizing, explaining, something—anything.

But when I opened it, my stomach turned to stone.

A photo. Nathan… and Carrie. Smiling. Her arms around him like she owned him.

And the message: Sorry, sister. Wrong message, but I hope you’re doing fine because Nathan’s kinda occupied with me right now. – Carrie.

Carrie. My half-sister.

When my father remarried, I tried to love her like my own blood. And for a while, I thought she loved me too. But I was our father’s favorite, and she knew it. Her smiles grew sharper. Her words, more poisonous.

When she couldn’t ruin my relationship with Nathan through rumors and petty games, she did the next best thing—she stole him. At first, I let him go. I told myself if he truly wanted her, then fine, he could have her. But fate wasn’t so kind.

Five years ago, Carrie ran away on the day of their wedding. Said she wasn’t ready. The scandal nearly destroyed both families. And to save our father’s reputation, I stepped in. I married Nathan, thinking—hoping—that maybe, with time, he would learn to love me again.

But I was wrong. Everything was a lie.

Because now that Carrie was back, I’d been tossed aside like I was nothing.

No. I wouldn’t let it happen again.

I discharged myself from the hospital. Nathan still hadn’t come nor texted. When I arrived at the house, it was dark and cold. No lights. No warmth.

The butler greeted me at the door, his eyes dropping to the floor when I asked, “Where’s Nathan?”

He said nothing, and somehow he looked at me with pathetic eyes.

I didn’t need an answer. I already knew.

I went straight to my room and locked the door. My hands shook as I called my lawyer.

“I want a divorce,” I said flatly.

The lawyer sighed. “Mrs. Jones, you know the rules of your prenuptial agreement. You can’t file unless Mr. Jones files and signs it himself first.”

“It will be signed. I’ll make sure.” I said through clenched teeth. “Just send it to my email. Now.”

Within an hour, the documents arrived. But before I could even read them, I made the mistake of glancing at Nathan’s laptop on my desk. He’d forgotten to log out of his email.

One click—and my world collapsed again.

Photos. Dozens of them. Nathan and Carrie. At the doctor’s office. At a baby boutique. At the beach, her belly just barely showing.

And then a message that made bile rise in my throat: Three months pregnant. Baby shower soon.

Three months ago… I was already pregnant. And he was already expecting another child with her.

Scrolling further, I found another set of photos. A venue. White roses. Invitations. Their wedding plans.

Something in me snapped.

I stormed into Nathan’s home office, yanked open every drawer, and pulled out every file, especially the ones marked Confidential. Contracts. Proposals. His so-called “special project” that had been in the works for months.

I stacked everything on the desk, photographed each page, and sent them to Jameson.

My message was short: This is everything. Ruin him.

His reply came within minutes.

Sure, my love. I’ll see you in days… and you’ll be with me forever.

I stared at the screen, my heartbeat slow and steady for the first time in days.

The fire crackled in the backyard, hungry flames eating away at the pile of things I’d dragged out from the house. Every wedding photo, every framed smile, every little memento Nathan had ever pretended meant something to us — gone.

I was tossing the last of the albums onto the fire when I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel. The sound of a car door slamming. Footsteps.

“What the hell is going on here?” Nathan’s voice was sharp. His eyes darted from the fire to me, then to the heap of half-burned things. “Why are you burning our stuff and what’s with the donation boxes outside?”

“For charity,” I said flatly, my gaze fixed on the flames. “For a change. I just… want to move on.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by my tone. “Move on? From what?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Wait—” His gaze snagged on something in the pile. “Is that… our wedding photos?” His voice sharpened. “Why the hell are you throwing those away?”

“Nothing,” I said, walking past him toward the side gate.

Nathan’s hand shot out, catching my arm. “Nothing? Jasmine, wait. Hold on, what’s wrong with you? Why are you suddenly cold to me? Is this… is this about the baby?” His voice dropped. “Or is it because I didn’t come back to the hospital that night?”

I turned my head, meeting his gaze without a single tear in my eyes.

“I was busy,” he said quickly, almost tripping over his words. “You know I was working on a project. The project. The one I’ve been planning for months. You even helped me with it.” His tone softened, almost coaxing. “So you’re going to come with me to the presentation, right?”

“No.”

He froze, his grip on my arm tightening. “What?”

“I said no.”

His voice turned harsh. “You’re my architect, Jasmine. My partner on this. You can’t just—”

“I don’t want to.”

For a heartbeat, there was silence — the kind that teeters on the edge of breaking. Then it shattered.

His hand moved faster than my breath. The slap rang in my ears. My head snapped to the side, heat blooming across my cheek.

For a second, I just stood there, stunned. He’d never… not once in five years…

I remembered his promise on our wedding night, whispered in the dark: I will never hurt you, Jasmine.

The promise was gone now. His own eyes widened like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “I— I’m sorry. I was just—busy, stressed—”

I stepped back, my skin burning where his hand had landed. I didn’t want to hear it.

I turned to leave.

That’s when I heard it — a scream from inside the house.

“Help! Somebody help me!”

Carrie. Nathan’s expression shifted in an instant. He bolted past me without another word, rushing into the kitchen. I followed slowly, every muscle stiff.

She was on the floor, holding her arm, eyes wide in feigned panic.

“Oh my God, Carrie,” Nathan gasped, kneeling beside her. “What happened?”

She sniffled, glancing toward me. “I… I slipped.”

Nathan’s head whipped toward me. “What the hell is this?”

“I was cleaning the floor,” I said evenly.

“Cleaning?” His voice rose. “Look what you’ve done! She slipped! If something happens to her, you’ll pay!”

I clenched my fists. “You think I wanted to hurt my own half-sister? I didn’t even know she was gonna be here.”

But he didn’t listen. He didn’t care.

His glare could have set me on fire. “This is your fault.”

And then another slap. Harder.

He scooped Carrie into his arms and stormed past me, muttering under his breath, heading straight for the car. Seconds later, the engine roared to life, and they were gone.

That night, I sat in my room, a single candle flickering in front of me. I’d lit it for the baby we’d lost. My hands were steady as I adjusted the frame beside it — the sonogram photo, creased from being hidden away.

The door creaked open.

Carrie stepped inside, holding a bouquet of white lilies.

“For your baby,” she said softly, setting them on the table. Her voice was laced with syrup, thick and sticky. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier. And… for leaving before. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that. I’m sorry if you have to marry him on my behalf.”

She moved closer, wrapping her arms around me. I stood stiff in her embrace, my skin crawling.

Her lips brushed my ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“But now that I’m here with our baby… you’d better leave. Now.”

The words were a knife, and she twisted them with a smile.

I jerked away, my jaw tight, but she gasped, like I’d shoved her, and clutched her arm dramatically.

“Oh! You hurt me—”

Her elbow caught the edge of the candle. The hot wax splattered against my hand, the small flame licking up the tablecloth. I hissed, pulling back.

Carrie’s voice rose in a panicked wail. “I’m sorry! Please, sister, don’t hurt me! I just want to be close to you again! I don’t plan on stealing Nathan back, I promise!”

The door slammed open. Nathan stood there, his gaze darting from me to the candle to Carrie, tears brimming in her eyes.

“What the hell is going on?”

“She—” I started.

“She burned me!” Carrie sobbed, showing her unmarked arm. “I just wanted to apologize—”

“She’s lying!” My voice shook with rage.

Nathan didn’t even hesitate. His face hardened. “Lock her in the basement.”

Two of the house staff appeared from behind him, their eyes downcast as they took my arms. I struggled, kicking, shouting his name.

“Nathan! Listen to me! She’s lying! She—”

The basement door loomed ahead. Cold air hit my skin as it creaked open.

“But wait…” Carrie’s voice floated through the doorway, sickly sweet with mock concern. “She’s your wife, Nathan. Don’t do that, I forgive her…”

His reply was ice. “Not tonight. Tonight, she’s nothing.”

The door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness.