I forced the lawyer to gather evidence within a month while racing between court and hospital.

My brother's surgery had gone smoothly, but the ambulance accident left him in the ICU for days. I stayed until they moved him to a regular ward, but he still didn't wake up. At his bedside, I gripped his hand with both of mine as if holding on to some small comfort.

Everything that had happened made me realize how tightly my mother and brother had sheltered me. . Now that Mom was gone. I had to be his pillar—I could not afford to break.

"Meredith..."

My brother's voice, thin and hoarse, snapped me out of my thoughts. I swallowed the sting in my nose and asked quietly, "How do you feel? Any pain anywhere?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced a smile. "I'm fine. You're the one who's gotten so thin—if you don't eat properly someone's going to mistake you as my little sister when you go out."

I knew he was trying to distract me, so I pretended to be annoyed and made a soft huff.

I went out to heat some water. When I came back, the electrocardiogram monitor was frantically beeping. I sprinted into the room and found Hillary standing there. My brother clutched his chest, his face ashen, his trembling finger pointing at her as he gasped for air.

"Hillary! What did you do to my brother?!" I ran to his side, pushed the call button with shaking fingers.

She shrugged, feigning innocence. "Sorry—I thought you'd already told him that your mother died. I just came to comfort him and didn't expect such a reaction..."

"What does our family ever have against you? Why do you keep doing this to us?" I glared at her, furious and on the verge of striking her, but I couldn't bring myself to leave my brother's side.

"Meredith, you misunderstood. I'm doing this for you—if he finds out after he's recovered, he might get triggered again. Better he's here in the hospital where they can treat him right away, isn't that safer?" Her coquettish tone was like a knife that pierced through me.

"Shut up!" I snapped.

Doctors and nurses rushed in, checked my brother, and spoke gravely. "The patient is in critical condition. We recommend a heart transplant within three days—otherwise it's very dangerous."

As they hurried him back to the ICU, my heart dropped into an even darker place. Hillary blinked, feigning concern. "Oh dear, did I say the wrong thing? Wouldn't that mean your family... might have to hold two funerals in a row?"

I whirled around and reached to slap her, but before it could land, my hand was yanked and held tight from behind.

"Hillary isn't a doctor—she doesn't know how to talk to patients. All she ever does is act; If you can't help with your hands, then use your head!" Tristan's voice landed like ice.

"Tristan, I should've listened to you and not run around... I made Meredith angry again." Hillary instantly put on a frightened act and hid behind Tristan.

As she glanced at me, I caught a flash of satisfied mockery in her eyes. I wrenched Tristan's hand off and faced him.

"Do you remember the vows at our wedding?" I pressed.

His arm around Hillary stiffened imperceptibly.

"You promised to protect me and my family forever—to keep us safe. But you're the one who hit me, and you let Hillary hurt my family. Tristan—are your promises worth so little?"

Panic flickered in his eyes, but Hillary cut in before he could answer. "Meredith, don't blame Tristan. It's all my fault... If you want someone to vent on, come at me."

On hearing that, Tristan pulled her even closer. When he looked at me, his expression had smoothed back to calm. "Meredith, I know you've been through a lot and you need to vent. I understand—but don't involve Hillary."

His voice was firm, and it was no longer meant for me.

The man who once sheltered me now shielded another woman without hesitation. A sharp, hot pain stabbed my chest. Watching their exchanged looks of concern, I felt disgusted and betrayed.

"Don't think one or two soft words will silence me," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm not a saint—when I was stabbed, I won't say it's okay."

"If either of you shows up in front of my brother again, I will fight her to death!"

"Ah... Tristan, my belly hurts so much... I'm so scared..." Hillary immediately curled into his arms and moaned. Tristan's face went tense; he scooped her up and hurried away. From the moment they left, he never once looked back at me.

Tristan's silhouette retreated with brutal finality, but I didn't have time to indulge in grief. I forced my emotions down and messaged Dad, telling him to contact the heart donor as soon as possible.

He called back within minutes. "Meredith, don't worry—I've reached them. I won't let anything happen to your brother."

There was a tremor of urgency in his voice, as if he waited for me to reassure him.

I answered coldly, "If my brother can't be saved, then that's the end between us."

Silence on the other end turned frantic; he kept promising everything. But promises were the last thing I trust now.

I decided to go home to collect a few important things and leave for good. At the front door, I discovered the lock had been changed, so I had to knock.

"Tristan—" Hillary's coquettish voice trailed off the instant she saw me. "Oh? It's you."

She acted surprised. "Why didn't you just open the door yourself?"

Her eyes shone with unabashed provocation. Then, as if remembering something, she tapped her forehead dramatically. "Oh dear—how forgetful of me. Tristan changed the code this morning ‘for safety.' Looks like you won't be getting in anymore."

I ignored her and walked straight to the master bedroom. I pushed the door open and was met with chaos. Our wedding photos—Tristan and I—were shattered on the floor, and even the custom gifts I once treasured lay ruined among the debris.

"Really sorry about the mess." Hillary leaned against the doorframe. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Haven't had time to tidy up. Maybe...you could make do in the utility room for now?"

I walked across the shards of glass to the wardrobe, dug out my documents from the back, and turned to leave. As I passed her, my foot caught on something and I fell backward, collapsing hard onto the broken glass.

A sharp, stabbing pain seared across my back. I gasped.

"Hillary!" I bit out through clenched teeth.

Footsteps rushed over, and Tristan appeared. Hillary immediately flung herself into his arms, her face suddenly went pale. "Tristan, hurry—take Meredith to the hospital! She came back, and when saw me, she flew into a rage and smashed things; she must have fallen..."

Only then did Tristan look at me properly. But there was no trace of concern in his eyes—only a coldness edged with disgust.

"Meredith! Hillary is already carrying my child. She'll be staying here from now on. No matter how you scream or put on a show, my mind won't change!"

"In your eyes, am I that kind of person?" My voice trembled.

"Hillary is gentle and kind—she would never do something like this. Who else could it be but you?" He said it with absolute conviction, then softened his gaze on Hillary. "This room's no good. Let's go somewhere else."

His attitude started changing a year ago. Whatever I'd been through, he no longer asked—he judged me without hesitation. The cracks had been there a long time; I'd just been blind to them until now.

I remembered how someone had vandalized Hillary's grave. The Gibson family had stormed over and forced me to confess. Tristan never asked a single question—he protected me fiercely. The Gibson family insisted on punishing me; he spent three days and nights finding the true culprit.

I ran my fingers over his tired, bloodshot eyes and asked, "Why did you believe me back then?"

He cupped my face and smiled. "You're the one I love most. If I don't believe you, who will I believe?"

After that, he never visited Hillary's grave again. I once thought I had finally stepped into his heart. I never imagined that all that unwavering protection had been an act from the start.

I found the first-aid kit and cleaned the wound on my back as best I could. Just as I was about to book a hotel, my phone pinged with a security alert: abnormal activity on the surveillance feed. Compelled, I opened the app.

The camera showed the nursery we'd once so carefully decorated. Tristan and Hillary were there—disheveled, and intimate.

Hillary slyly twined his restless fingers and murmured, "My father's heart transplant can't wait any longer..."

Tristan kissed the back of her hand with indulgent tenderness. "Don't worry—I've taken care of it. Coincidentally, the heart that matches your father's is from Meredith's brother. I arranged the surgery this afternoon."

My hand trembled; the phone almost slipped from my grasp.

"That's great—oh, by the way, my brother is just doing an internship. Why don't you make him your assistant?" Hillary's voice was sweet and bright.

Without hesitation, Tristan agreed. "Sure."

"But..." She lowered her lashes, feigning just the right touch of worry. "Meredith's mood has been all over the place lately. What if she gets impulsive and divorces you?"

Tristan tightened his arms around her and answered with absolute certainty, "Don't worry. She's been with me for seven years—she can't live without me. But if she dares make things hard for you again, you don't have to endure it. Protecting yourself comes first."

"Got it..." she purred.

I stopped listening after that. A heavy weight pressed against my chest—not just grief, but the bitter sense that seven years of my life had been wasted.

No matter how I tried to smother it, a sharp, relentless pain kept surfacing, just as fierce as when I first fell helplessly in love with him.

Tangled and numb, I rushed back to the hospital—and still I was too late. They were already wheeling my brother into surgery.

I sat on a bench in a daze, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion.

Silently, Tristan sat beside me and handed me a cup of warm milk. "Drink a little. You need to keep your strength."

I took it without answering—not because my heart softened, but because I needed energy to wait for my brother to come through.

We sat in cold silence until the surgical light dimmed and a doctor stepped out. His face was grave. "We've stabilized him for now, but his condition is critical. He's extremely weak... he may not wake up. The family should prepare for the worst."

My heart sank to the floor.

Just then, a doctor who had been looking down sprinted forward. I caught the familiar features, and he looked shockingly like Hillary.

I lunged, grabbed him, and shouted, "Stop!"

Ignoring his struggle, I ripped the mask from his face. It was Hector—her brother.

"It's you! You did this to my brother!" I lost control and shook him. "Give my brother back to me!"

He panic-breathed and opened his mouth without forming words. Tristan suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind. "Meredith, calm down. This isn't anyone's fault."

Taking advantage of the moment, Hector slipped away.

Tristan still tried to soothe me. "Don't worry. You have me. I'll find the best doctors—"

I wrenched free and slapped him hard across the face. "Tristan, you've disappointed me so much."

For a moment, anger flared in his eyes, then guilt, then a flicker of shame. "If you need to hit or yell, do it to me—but don't take it out on Hillary. She's innocent."

Even now, his first instinct was to protect her. At that moment, I finally saw it clearly—these seven years had been nothing but an illusion.

When they brought my brother out, I followed. In the ward I clutched his cold hand and choked on the words, "Brother... I only have you... don't leave me..."

No matter how I begged, his eyes stayed shut.

...

The next day, Tristan texted that he would arrange a transfer for my brother. I replied once. [You don't need to concern yourself!] Then I blocked him.

The string of disasters left me hollow. I collapsed into the hotel bed and slept until I fell into a nightmare.

In the dream I stood on a cliff's edge opposite Tristan. He had one arm around Hillary and the other clutching their child. Beside me lay my mother and my brother, broken and distant. Their faces were full of disappointment.

"I told you not to marry him!" my mother cried. "You wouldn't listen. Now he's ruined me and your brother—you don't even have a place to cry!"

"Meredith," my brother said coldly, "I spoiled you too much. That's why you let wolves into our home. I... can't rest in peace."

I screamed and reached for them, but they drifted farther away.

When I woke up, my pillow was soaked with tears. The ache in my ribs—the constant, gnawing pain—forced me back into the harshness of reality. I had once believed we would be two for life; now all that remained was regret so vast it swallowed me whole.

I regretted loving him. I regretted handing him the power to shatter everything.

A dull pain thudded through my abdomen and I remembered with a new, sick clarity: I was carrying Tristan's child. The small life that had once held all my hope had become nothing but an extension of this nightmare.