“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.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and rot. The moment the bolt slid shut, darkness swallowed me whole—thick, suffocating darkness that pressed in on all sides.

I hated the dark. Nathan knew that. Everyone in this house knew that.

My breathing turned ragged, my chest tightening with each second. I pressed my hands against the cold floor, feeling grit under my palms. A sudden movement made me freeze—then the sickening skitter of tiny legs across my bare ankle. My stomach lurched.

“Please… no,” I whispered to myself, curling my knees up and hugging them tight. But the cockroaches kept moving, brushing against my skin, their faint tapping against the walls echoing in the blackness.

This was the first time I had truly seen Nathan for what he was. There was no more illusion. No more pretending. This was not the man I married, the man I thought would protect me. This was someone who could throw me into my deepest fear without a flicker of hesitation… and walk away.

Tears streamed hot down my cheeks. I tried to wipe them, but my hands trembled so violently they only smeared the wetness across my face.

I didn’t know when I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep—my head against the wall, my arms aching from holding myself so tightly.

When I woke, the light from above stabbed into my eyes. The door creaked open and a silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Jasmine,” a familiar voice said softly.

It was Rebecca. My mother-in-law.

She hurried down the steps and crouched in front of me, her eyes darting over my face, my tangled hair, my dirty clothes. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”

I swallowed hard, trying to speak, but my throat felt raw.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have let this happen. I… I didn’t know they’d really lock you in here.”

Her hand brushed my forehead. She frowned. “You’re burning up.”

The world tilted, heat rolling through me like a fever, and before I could reply, the darkness came again—thicker, heavier.

When I woke next, I was in my room. My head throbbed, but I could hear voices outside the door.

Rebecca again—her voice sharp, angry. “Are you insane, Nathan? You treat your wife like this? I thought you needed her! Tomorrow is your big presentation. What if she refuses to go because you’re too busy parading your attention all over Carrie?”

Her words stabbed deep, each one another reminder that betrayal wasn’t just a wound—it was a constant, festering ache.

Nathan’s voice was low but defensive. “You don’t understand, Mom. I’m stressed. This project—”

“This project won’t matter if she walks out,” Rebecca snapped. “You’ve already made her doubt her place in this house. And you—” her voice dipped lower—“you’re showing far too much interest in Carrie.”

I closed my eyes. Even his mother saw it. And yet… she still stayed silent about the worst truth of all.

Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow, I’m leaving.

When Rebecca finally came into my room, she wore a look of forced calm. “You should rest,” she said gently, setting a tray of food on the table. “I’m sorry for what happened. It won’t happen again.”

I smiled faintly, pretending gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Not long after, Nathan came in. His expression was tight, his eyes scanning me like he was measuring my mood. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I was just… stressed. The project’s been eating me alive.”

He sat at the edge of the bed, his hand brushing over mine. “You’ll still come tomorrow, right? We’re presenting together—you promised.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled faintly, kissed my forehead, and left.

Later, I printed the document I had been waiting for. When Nathan came back, fussing over Carrie in the living room—because she was, once again, faking being sick—I approached with the papers.

Carrie turned to me with that sweet-sour smile of hers. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. I was really sick today. Thank you for letting Nathan take care of me. I hope you’re feeling better too.”

I ignored her entirely and handed the papers to Nathan. “Sign this. It’s for tomorrow’s presentation.”

He didn’t even look—just scribbled his signature and handed it back before turning back to Carrie. “You should rest,” he murmured to her.

My jaw clenched. I went back to my room and locked the door.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

A message from Jameson: Everything’s ready. I already stole the client. Tomorrow, I’ll see you.

For the first time in weeks, I lay down and actually slept.

When the morning light came, I was almost at peace.

Until the pounding on the door started.

I opened it to find two police officers waiting in the hall.

“Mrs. Jasmine?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” I said slowly.

“You’ll need to come with us,” the other officer said.

My brow furrowed. “Why?”

The taller officer exchanged a glance with his partner. “We’ve received a report that you attempted to kidnap and harm an infant.”

I blinked, my stomach dropping. “What?”

They didn’t answer—only stepped aside.

And there she was. Carrie. Standing in the foyer. Pale-faced. Eyes wide. Cradling a blanket in her arms like there was a baby inside.

She looked at me with trembling lips and whispered, “Why would you do this to me, sister?”