Clara almost thought she heard something wrong. He knew very well she had claustrophobia and needed the lights on even while sleeping.

But now, for that woman, he was going to lock her himself in a dark, sunless room.

The bodyguards stepped forward and roughly dragged Clara toward the dark room.

Fear seized her, and Clara struggled with all her strength, pleading, "No! Don’t lock me in a place like that! No! Simon, have you forgotten kneeling before my parents’ graves, promising to treat me well for life?"

"Simon, do you really want me to hate you?"

Simon froze, fists tightening. He had once truly loved Clara.

The next moment, Selina suddenly hugged him and began to sob softly. Tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke.

"Simon, I came without notice and offended Miss Hart, but I’m not a mistress, really, I’m not."

In an instant, heartache crushed his hesitation, and Simon said in a deep voice, "Take Madam away now and lock the door! No one is allowed to open it without my permission."

The bodyguard shoved her into the small, dark room and slammed the door shut.

In an instant, Clara fell into endless darkness.

Terror overwhelmed her; she pounded on the doors and windows wildly, screaming with all her strength, "Let me out! Let me out!"

"I was wrong, don’t lock me in here, Simon, please, I’ll apologize, don’t leave me here, I’ll die." She screamed until drained, but the door stayed shut.

Clara was in despair. She curled into the corner, not…

She stopped trembling, and memories surged back.

She wasn’t actually an orphan. Fifteen years ago, she had a happy family; her parents were upright, incorruptible narcotics officers.

Until that night, drug dealers came with their men to retaliate. To protect her, her parents locked her inside a dark closet.

She witnessed her parents’ brutal deaths through that crack, staying inside for three days.

When the police found her, she was nearly broken from the trauma.

With a psychologist’s help, she underwent six months of treatment before recovering.

But ever since, she had claustrophobia, terrified of dark, enclosed spaces to the point she needed a light to sleep.

And she had told Simon everything.

She never imagined that, just to shield Selina, he would personally tear open her wounds.

Images of her parents’ deaths repeated endlessly in her mind. Clara felt as if she had gone back fifteen years, watching them die again and again.

The recurring pain tormented her nerves, and three days later, Clara finally broke.

Before losing consciousness, she faintly saw fifteen-year-old Simon under a cherry blossom tree, holding her tightly.

"Clara, from now on, I’ll protect you with my life. I’ll never let you suffer that again, never let you fall into darkness again."

For the next ten years, he kept that promise.

But now, he shattered it.

When she woke again, Clara found herself in a hospital.

Seeing her awake, Simon said softly, "Your body is fine, and Selina was worried, so she asked me to stay with you."

He reached to touch Clara’s hair, but she pulled away.

Seeing her wary gaze, Simon’s heart jolted. He frowned and said, "Why are you still acting up? This was your mistake, and you should be punished."

"Mistakes must be punished, Clara. You told me that when we were young. Have you forgotten?"

Clara slowly raised her head, calm, silent.

Looking at the face before her, she suddenly realized that not loving him wasn’t hard at all.

From now on, each second she would love him less.

Seeing her eyes, Simon felt she had changed. When did she stop looking at him with those burning eyes?

He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Then he showed her his phone.

"Clara, I came to tell you that you misunderstood Selina. Her new art exhibit is a total success, praised by all. No one looks down on you."

Seeing her unflattering photos displayed in a gallery for everyone to see, Clara froze, struggling not to cry.

She closed her eyes slowly, turning away, unwilling to speak.

Out of patience, Simon stormed out, slamming the door with a deafening bang.

Where no one could see, Clara gripped her hands, letting her tears soak the pillow.

After crying enough, Clara stood up, dragging her weak body out of the hospital, heading for the orphanage where she grew up.

Since childhood, the director, like a mother, had been kind to her, and she had always thought of the orphanage as home.

She didn’t know when she would lose her memory, but before that, she wanted to help the orphanage.

But this time, the director who had treated her like a daughter refused to let her in.

"Leave. I saw the photos of you selling yourself as a nude model. You’re not welcome here." The director threw out her things, disappointed. "I raised you carefully, not for you to do something shameful! If this spreads, all the children here will be disgraced!"

"We don’t want a single cent of your donations, and money earned from your body is dirty!"

The director had actually seen those photos.

Clara bit her lip, explaining frantically, "No, I never took Selina’s money."

"You’re still lying! Miss Grant told me you needed money, so you agreed to be her model."

The director shook her head and slammed the door on her.

"Don’t come back. We don’t have a child like you."

Clara froze, slowly falling to her knees, crying hard.

Just like fifteen years ago, she was homeless again.

And this time, the one who made her homeless was Simon.

Returning to the villa in a daze, Clara took out her plane ticket to Italy.

With those private photos everywhere, she knew she couldn’t stay any longer, so she decided to leave ahead of time.

London had nothing left for her.

But as she packed, a sudden wave of nausea hit her.

Clara turned in panic, accidentally knocking over a cabinet in the bedroom.

A document slid out; picking it up, she saw it was a hospital diagnosis slip.

When she read the words, Clara’s eyes widened in shock.

It was a pregnancy test report, showing she was three months pregnant, the fetus was healthy, and the signatory was Simon.

She was pregnant!

Touching her lower abdomen in disbelief, she couldn’t accept that a small life was growing inside her.

She didn’t understand why Simon hid this report from her. He always knew how much she longed for a child.

She had always dreamed of having a child with him, but she never imagined the child would come at the worst moment.

A trace of confusion passed through Clara’s eyes. Reason told her she should abort the baby.

But for an orphan, nothing mattered more than blood.

She stroked her lower abdomen as tears poured down her face.

She wanted to keep the child.

Even if she hated Simon, she was determined to keep the baby, because it was her only family in this world.

"You saw it." Simon suddenly appeared behind her, his expression complicated.

Clara asked hoarsely, "Why didn’t you tell me?"

This was her child—why didn’t he tell her!

But to her shock, Simon slowly knelt, touching her flat stomach, looking at her with deep emotion, and said something that shattered her completely.

"Someone, remove the baby from Madam’s womb and give it to Selina."

Clara went white. "What did you say?"

"Simon, are you insane? It’s only just formed! Taking it out will kill it!"

Simon explained hoarsely, "Selina created a new art project and needs a newly formed fetus for her specimen exhibit. She said only you are her muse, and only your child can complete the piece."

"I originally planned to remove the baby secretly to spare you the grief, but I didn’t expect you to discover it."

Clara was stunned speechless. "What kind of art is this, cruel? This is violence! Simon, this is your child too, your blood!"

Simon’s voice was bitter. "Clara, I’m sorry, but Selina must finish this exhibition. After it ends, I’ll give you another child, alright? We’ll have more in the future."

"Simon, you’re insane! Truly insane!"

She never imagined he could say such a thing. Clara shook her head wildly and tried to run.

Simon grabbed her wrist, saying painfully, "Selina studied art abroad. Now that she’s back, she must achieve something."

"Clara, trust me, you’re sacrificing for art. Someone, take Madam to the operating room."

Several bodyguards rushed in and lifted her easily.

Clara never imagined Simon would kill his own child for Selina.

"No! Don’t hurt my baby! I have no family left, this is the only blood tied to me."

"No! Don’t—Simon, stop! Please!" Clara struggled wildly, but she was no match for them.

Until she was pinned to the operating table, feeling cold instruments invade her body, feeling the child inside her torn away bit by bit, she finally went limp.

Without anesthesia, blood soaked her lower body, sending waves of tearing pain.

Her vision blurred, and she seemed to hear young Simon’s voice.

"Clara, when we have a child, I hope she’s a daughter who looks like you. Then I’ll spoil her, and no one will hurt her."

Simon, did you ever think the one to hurt her would be you?

Simon, I regret it. I don’t need to wait until I forget— I already don’t love you.

The operating room lights were harsh. Clara screamed in agony and then lost consciousness completely.

When she woke again, her abdomen was flat. The child who had been part of her had been taken the moment she learned of it, as if it never existed.

Her tears had dried. Clara’s eyes were hollow; she didn’t even have the strength to mourn.

The bloodstains on her thighs were still wet. She slowly stood and packed her luggage.

She was leaving now, leaving Simon.

After settling everything, Clara walked into the heavy rain and took a taxi to the airport.

The scenery outside was beautiful, but her face was pale as she stared at the news on her phone.

The top trending topic was Selina’s name, followed by the word “explosive.”

【Renowned artist Selina’s work "Rebirth" spreads online, triggering heated debate.】

Under the entry, all the photos showed Selina’s performance art.

She placed the newly formed fetus on a plate, posing it in different ways, each paired with a lengthy explanation.

In the final picture, she even let a dog devour the fetus.

The comments were divided; some called it art, others said it violated human dignity.

The uproar grew worse. Clara shut off her phone, feeling completely drained.

Her own flesh and blood had become a piece of meat on a plate.

Closing her eyes in agony, Clara wished it was just a nightmare.

She wished she had never conceived this child.

Just then, the taxi stopped.

A group of men in black dragged Clara out, ignoring her struggles, blindfolding her, and forcing her inside.

Clara didn’t resist.

She would rather die now than keep living like this.

After an unknown time, the car halted, and Clara was pulled into a room.

The blindfold came off, a harsh spotlight hit her, and her vision went white.

Tears welled uncontrollably. The next moment, Simon’s voice reached her.

"Clara, it’s me."

Clara froze, eyes widening in disbelief.

Simon smothered his cigarette, his voice low and threatening.

"The novel New Life caused a massive uproar. People are attacking Selina online. She’s an artist; she can’t bear this stain."

His tone was chilling. "Go explain that the child was stillborn, and that you used Selina’s artist reputation to gain fame, so you gave it to her willingly."

Clara thought she had misheard. He kidnapped her just to clear Selina’s name.

"You’re delusional!"

Her voice shook as she slapped him hard. "You murderers deserve judgment. I’ll never take the blame for you."

The next second, the man gripped her chin firmly.

Pain shot through her bones. Clara endured it. "Simon, if you dare, kill me."

Simon released her, speaking coldly.

"If you refuse, then the orphanage doesn’t need to exist. The director cared for you like her own; will you just watch it disappear?"

Clara clutched his arm, lifting her head with effort, hatred burning. "Simon, are you mad? That’s where you grew up."

Simon’s gaze darkened, and he shut his eyes. "For Selina, I’d give up anything."

Give up anything?

Including her, including her child, even the orphanage.

She knew Simon never made empty threats.

Even if the director rejected her, she couldn’t let him destroy the orphanage.

Closing her eyes in despair, Clara whispered, "Fine, I’ll explain. Don’t touch the orphanage."

Once the camera pointed at her, the live stream started.

A metallic taste filled her mouth, and Clara forced herself to speak. "Regarding the ‘New Life’ exhibition..." Following Simon’s demands, she shouldered all the blame.

The live comments exploded instantly.

[I knew Selina was kind; how could she do something so vile? Turns out she was framed.]

[That was your own child! How could you be so heartless, you monster! You don’t deserve to be a mother!]

[Pretty face but rotten inside. No shame at all, just for fame!]

[Arrest her!] Watching the flood of insults, Clara’s eyes burned.

After finishing the last word, she rushed to the bathroom to vomit.

Disgusting, utterly disgusting.

She had helped the one who murdered her baby escape punishment.

Stumbling, she tried to flee, but bodyguards blocked her.

"Madam, Mr. Carter said you can’t leave until everything is settled."

He wouldn’t let her go until Selina was safe.

She let out a bitter smile and glanced at the clock.

The plane had already taken off; she missed her flight to Italy.

A sharp pain shot through her head. She forced a smile and walked back inside.

She knew Simon wouldn’t let her go easily. She only hoped her backup plan was already in motion.