"Madeline, can't you stop being so selfish?" Raymond continued in annoyance.

"Don't drag others down just because of your own grudges."

How noble. How selfless. How considerate of others.

"Selfish?" I turned, lips curling into a cold smile. "I'm not only going to be selfish—I'm going to destroy everything you hold dear."

Raymond's expression shifted instantly.

"Maddy, don't touch her," he said urgently.

"I swear, that night was an accident. As long as she gives birth to the child, I'll make sure she stays far away from our lives."

His panic exposed his weakness.

A dull ache pressed against my chest, yet my smile stayed in place. "And what if I refuse?"

I didn't just want a divorce. I wasn't going to let Raymond slip away as if all these years of my youth, my energy, my sacrifices had been worthless.

I wanted it all back—every last piece he owed me.

His eyes grew cold.

"Then you'll have to go away for a while," he said at last.

Go away.

He meant sending me abroad, to a strange place where I could "calm down."

But how was that any different from a prison sentence?

"You have no right to interfere with my freedom," I spat. "Raymond, I'm not your pet."

I was about to leave the house in a red dress when his hand caught my arm.

"Change your clothes before you go out."

"I told you, you're not allowed to wear red."

A wave of stubbornness rose up in me. "And why can't I?"

He said it without shame, "Only Dory can wear red."

"When she wears it, it soothes my condition. Haven't you noticed how much better I've been?"

I laughed bitterly, nearly choking on the disgust.

"You're amazing. With acting skills like that, you should be winning film awards instead of lying to me."

He really thought I'd still believe that ridiculous excuse? But I had already seen the truth on the house surveillance footage.

In the dead of night, while I was asleep, he pinned Dorothy on the sofa, kissing her.

He held her close and whispered, "My child can only come from your womb. Madeline doesn't deserve to keep any of mine."

"She's had enough already. I've married her—that's all she gets."

So that was it.

The "red color triggers my episodes" story was just a lie.

Even the "accident" that cost me my child... all part of his carefully laid plans.

I didn't waste another word on Raymond. I returned to the villa, began packing, and dialed a number I'd memorized long ago.

"I've decided. I'm leaving the country. Come pick me up."

The call ended.

But before I could finish packing, an uninvited guest appeared.

Since that day when Dorothy "heroically" shielded him from a flying vase and got injured, she had conveniently moved into the Tomlinson family villa.

Now, belly rounded, wearing my nightgown, she stood in front of me with a smug smile.

"Madeline, don't you think you're a pathetic excuse for a woman?"

"You couldn't keep your husband, you couldn't keep your child—why don't you just die?"

"If you're smart, you'll step down and give me my rightful place as Mrs. Tomlinson."

"Otherwise, staying in that position will only make you a joke."

I didn't lose control like last time. I walked to the window. Outside, the sunlight was bright and sharp.

"Dorothy," I said quietly, "you really think being pregnant gives you the upper hand?"

"How about you take a look at this?"

I handed her a document—an in-vitro fertilization record.

"You've been deceived by Raymond." I smiled. "You think you're some kind of great love story? In reality, you're just a tool."

Then I spoke the words that made her face drain of color. "The child in your belly is mine."

Dorothy's face turned pale in an instant.

"No... you're lying to me!"

"Raymond would never treat me like that. He loves me—he really loves me..."

The little girl looked like she was about to shatter into pieces.

However, I felt a surge of satisfaction and deliberately poured oil on the fire.

Pulling out a recorder, I pressed play.

Raymond's deep, magnetic voice flowed from the device. "Maddy, don't worry. As soon as the child is born safely, I'll send Dorothy away. She'll never appear in front of us again."

Dorothy's entire world collapsed.

Her earlier arrogance, her smug confidence—gone without a trace.

"I'm going to ask Raymond myself! I need to hear it from him—why would he lie to me?"

She ran off in tears.

The butler approached cautiously, concern written all over his face.

"Madam, aren't you afraid that by deceiving Miss Vargas like this, Sir Raymond will cause trouble for you when he finds out?"

I laughed softly, catching my own reflection in the mirror.

A face so calm, yet shadowed with a quiet, deathlike resolve. "If I were still afraid of him... Then I wouldn't be Madeline."

In this lifetime, I had only been struck twice.

The first time—Raymond beat me for wearing a red dress, sending me to the hospital with thirteen stitches.

The second—when I miscarried.

It happened because I was foolish enough to believe in love.

But I swore long ago—there would never be a third time.

Sure enough, that very day, Dorothy ran out of the house crying, and soon after, she began bleeding heavily.

The doctor later said her emotions had been too agitated, triggering complications. The child could not be saved.

But only I knew the real reason.

At that moment, Raymond was in the middle of a board meeting.

As soon as he heard the news, he abandoned everything and rushed straight to the hospital.

And me? I remained in the villa, watching the surveillance footage quietly, smiling to myself.

Then I dialed a familiar number.

"The time has come. Pick me up."

This time, it was my turn to give Raymond a "surprise."

The moment Raymond heard of Dorothy's miscarriage, he lost control.

He couldn't understand—under the nanny's careful watch, how could this have happened?

While he was tearing through the hospital in a frenzy, his phone rang and a strange number flashed on the screen.

"Mr. Tomlinson, the divorce certificate has been issued. Shall I deliver it to you or to Miss Alvares?"