My husband's childhood sweetheart claimed to suffer from "Social Avoidance Disorder"—a convenient condition that only seemed to flare up around me.

"Katherine, the Crawford family is built on charity and humility," Damien had lectured, his voice dripping with condescension. "You need to understand propriety. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you deserve special treatment."

With a dismissive wave, he banished me from the master suite to the cramped servants' quarters.

"I've donated your household allowance to charity," he added coldly. "I'm a philanthropist, Katherine. It's time you set a good example, too."

From that day on, the Crawford estate was stripped of its staff. I was left to fend for myself.

Bianca Winters, his beloved childhood friend, appointed herself my "exclusive nutritionist." Under her care, I was allowed only one meal a day. I withered away, collarbones jutting like jagged rocks against pale skin, starving while carrying the Crawford heir.

I didn't argue. I didn't ask for a divorce.

I endured it all for one reason: at three months pregnant, I began to hear the voice of the child growing inside me.

Mom, hang in there. Once I'm born, the suffering will end. We'll make them pay for everything they've done!

That tiny, determined voice gave me the strength to survive until the seventh month. But my resilience shattered the night I overheard Bianca and my husband.

"Damien, she's already seven months along. Isn't it time?"

I froze outside the study door.

"Fine." Damien's voice was ice-cold. "But drag it out until the due date. I want my parents to watch her miscarry with their own eyes."

——

Hunger had woken me at two in the morning, driving me to scavenge in the kitchen. Now, standing in the shadows, the clarity of their cruelty made my blood run cold.

"Is the medicine ready?" Damien asked.

Bianca laughed softly. "It's been ready for ages. A slow-acting poison. A little in her soup every day. By her due date... two corpses for the price of one."

My knees buckled. I grabbed the wall to keep from collapsing, breath hitching in my throat.

"Good," Damien sneered. "Ever since I can remember, my parents have controlled my life. My school, my major, my friends... even my wife. They forced Katherine Kaufman on me. Now I'm going to let them watch their 'perfect daughter-in-law' fail to keep the Crawford bloodline alive."

Bianca cooed, sickly sweet. "Damien, don't be angry. This is Katherine's fault. She has no self-respect. She refuses to learn propriety and shamelessly clings to you."

"Mm," Damien grunted.

"You're brilliant, you know," Bianca continued smugly. "Using my 'disorder' to guilt-trip her into submission. It worked perfectly."

She scoffed. "She thinks being a rich man's wife is easy. If I can't have it, what right does she have?"

The truth hit me like a physical blow.

This marriage wasn't a partnership—it was an act of rebellion. From the beginning, I was nothing more than a tool Damien used to punish his parents.

Tears welled in my eyes. I bit my lip until I tasted copper, refusing to make a sound.

Suddenly, the small voice echoed in my mind.

Mom, don't cry. They aren't worth your tears.

My hand flew to my belly, cradling the swell instinctively.

Seven months.

I had nicknamed him An'an, praying for a life of peace and safety. But now, his own father was plotting his execution.

The wet sound of kissing drifted from the study, followed by the rustle of clothing.

Bile rose in my throat. It wasn't hunger anymore—it was pure revulsion.

I stumbled backward, fleeing to the servants' room as fast as my trembling legs would carry me. Once inside, I collapsed onto the narrow bed.

"An'an, what should I do?" I whispered into the darkness, tears streaming down my face.

I had swallowed every insult, endured every humiliation, hoping for a peaceful life. Yet they still wanted us dead.

Mom, find Grandpa and Grandma. They're the only ones who can save us...

The baby's voice was calm, grounding me.

He was right.

My in-laws—Damien's parents. They arranged this marriage. They were powerful, and they cared about the Crawford lineage. They would protect us.

Thump. Thump.

Footsteps approached outside.

Panic surged through me. I scrambled under the thin blanket, pulling it to my chin and squeezing my eyes shut.

The door creaked open.

Even with my eyes closed, I felt the weight of a gaze bearing down on me. Bianca stood in the doorway.

"You heard us just now, didn't you?" Her voice cut through the silence, sharp and menacing.

A chill ran down my spine. I forced my breathing to stay even, feigning deep sleep, praying she wouldn't see me tremble.

"What did you say? What did you hear?"

Bianca's gaze darted to my shoes by the door. Neatly aligned. Undisturbed.

Relief flooded through me. Every night when I snuck out to scavenge for food, I went barefoot to silence my footsteps. That small habit had just saved me.

Her eyes lingered on my face for a few seconds before a satisfied smile crept across her lips.

"Fine. Get some sleep."

She turned and left. Only then did I let the breath hiss from my lungs.

The next morning, I woke with a singular purpose.

"Baby, today we're going to see Grandpa and Grandma," I whispered, stroking my abdomen.

A flutter rippled through my womb—a tiny movement of agreement.

I walked into the living room, but Bianca was already there, blocking my path with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Katherine, it's time for your prenatal checkup. I'll drive you."

I shook my head, stepping back. "No need. I can go myself."

"Don't be ridiculous." She snatched my bag from my hand. "Damien insists. You're heavy with his child—it's unsafe for you to be alone. Besides, he's swamped with work. You shouldn't bother him."

I yanked my bag back, forcing my expression to stay flat.

"I'm not going to the doctor today. I'm visiting the Crawford estate."

Bianca's smile cracked. Her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Going to see them? For what? To snitch? Tell them Damien and I are bullying you?" She stepped closer, voice dripping with malice. "Katherine, do you really think they'll believe you over their own son?"

Her words struck a nerve. A chill ran down my spine.

She was right. My in-laws loved me, but Damien was their flesh and blood.

We'd been married over a year. To the outside world, Damien Crawford was considerate and gentle. Behind closed doors, he was a glacier—cold, unyielding, cruel.

If I claimed my husband was trying to harm me and poison his unborn child without evidence, I wouldn't just sound desperate. I'd sound insane.

Bianca saw the hesitation in my eyes and smirked.

"If we told everyone you had persecutory delusions... locked you in a psych ward... who would stop us?"

I froze. She wasn't just threatening me—she was terrified I'd expose her.

I shoved past her. "You're delusional. I just miss them. Move."

"I won't!"

Her hand flipped over. A glint of silver—a long needle, aimed straight at my belly.

Mom! Dodge!

The baby's scream pierced my mind. Adrenaline surged, and I threw myself left.

Bianca lunged at empty air, momentum carrying her forward. But her reflexes were fast—as she stumbled, her free hand snagged my collar and yanked hard.

Gravity took over. We tumbled down the stairs in a tangle of limbs.

"Ah!"

My back slammed against the steps. Pain blinded me for a second.

My hands flew to cover my stomach. Please, let the baby be safe.

Bianca groaned beneath me—I'd landed on top of her. The impact forced a hiss through her teeth.

"Get off me!" she shrieked, shoving me away.

She scrambled to stand, ready to lunge again, but her leg buckled. Twisted ankle.

The tiny voice echoed in my head again.

Mom, act hurt! Hurry! Dad's coming...

I didn't hesitate. I curled into a fetal position, clutching my stomach, face twisted in agony.

"It hurts... God, it hurts..."

Tires screeched in the driveway. Damien had just parked. Seeing us sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, he sprinted inside.

"What the hell happened?"

Bianca palmed the needle, hiding it. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked up at him—the picture of fragility.

"Damien... Katherine slipped... It's my fault, I tried to catch her but I wasn't strong enough..."

Damien looked down at me, curled on the floor, gasping in pain. He frowned, but there was no warmth in his eyes. Only annoyance.

"Get her to the hospital," he said flatly. "We can't afford to lose the heir."

At the hospital, nurses rushed me into the examination room.

Dr. Hayes studied my chart, then looked at me, brow furrowing.

"Mrs. Crawford, why are you so thin? The fetus is two weeks behind in development."

Bianca Winters stood with her arms crossed, the picture of casual indifference.

"She refuses to eat properly," she told the doctor, shaking her head with feigned concern. "She keeps saying she needs to maintain her figure..."

I closed my eyes, sealing my lips. Arguing now would only waste the little energy I had left.

The moment Dr. Hayes left, the facade dropped. Bianca leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. Her voice was a low, venomous hiss.

"Keep your mouth shut. You got lucky this time, Katherine. But next time? You might not be so fortunate."

A chill ran down my spine, and my body trembled involuntarily. Bianca wasn't just following Damien's orders anymore—she had gone rogue. She didn't just want me out of the way. She wanted me dead.

When she finally left to pay the bills, I seized my chance. I turned to Nurse Jenny, who was organizing instruments on the bedside tray.

"Excuse me," I rasped. "Could I borrow your phone? Mine broke when I fell. I just want to let my family know I'm safe."

A lie, of course. My phone hadn't broken—it had been confiscated months ago. For the past trimester, every message sent to the outside world had been typed by Bianca's fingers. My life in the Crawford household wasn't a marriage. It was house arrest.

Nurse Jenny hesitated, glancing at the door, but her compassion won out. She unlocked her screen and handed the device to me.

My fingers shook as I punched in the number from memory.

Pick up. Please.

"Mom?" I whispered the moment the line connected. "Please come save me. The baby and I... we aren't safe."

I handed the phone back just seconds before the door clicked open. Bianca breezed in, a plastic smile on her face.

"Katherine, the doctor said you're stable. We'll observe you for a few hours, then we can go home tomorrow."

I looked at her blankly. I didn't argue. I didn't fight.

"Okay," I said softly.

Mrs. Crawford arrived faster than I'd dared to hope.

At three in the afternoon, the ward door was thrown open. She marched in, her presence immediately filling the room.

"Katherine!" She rushed to the bedside, eyes scanning me with frantic worry. "How are you? How is the baby?"

Before I could answer, Bianca lunged forward, launching into her rehearsed script.

"Auntie, it's all my fault! Katherine went downstairs and slipped—I wasn't fast enough to catch her..." She squeezed out a few crocodile tears. "I feel so guilty..."

Mrs. Crawford didn't even glance at her. Her gaze was locked on my protruding collarbones and hollow cheeks.

"Look at you," she breathed, horror coloring her tone. "You've wasted away. It's been three months since I saw you last... how did this happen? I tried to visit, but you kept telling me not to come."

It wasn't me. It was Bianca, using my identity, barring the doors.

Seeing Mrs. Crawford's suspicion, Bianca quickly interjected again. "Since Katherine got pregnant, her appetite has been terrible. She just can't keep anything down—"

At that moment, Mrs. Crawford's assistant stepped forward and set an insulated container on the bedside table. Mrs. Crawford opened it herself, releasing a cloud of steam.

"Drink some soup," she commanded gently. "You need nourishment."

The rich, savory scent hit me like a physical blow. My stomach, betraying my dignity, let out a loud, desperate growl.

I didn't wait for a spoon. I grabbed the bowl and drank. Then another. Two full bowls in rapid succession, the hot liquid soothing the gnawing void inside me.

Mrs. Crawford watched, her brow furrowing deeply. "This doesn't look like a lack of appetite. This looks like starvation."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and nodded, tears welling in my eyes.

"I only get one meal a day," I whispered. "I've been hungry for a long time."

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Mrs. Crawford turned her head slowly toward Bianca. Her gaze was sharp enough to draw blood.

Bianca's face went rigid. "No, that's not true! She wanted to diet! She refused to eat to keep her figure. I make her nutritious meals every single day!"

I ignored her completely. I gripped Mrs. Crawford's hand with desperate strength.

"Mom, please, can I go live with you?" A tear escaped, tracking through the grime on my face. "I'm hungry every day. They make me live in the housekeeper's quarters. There are no windows... I can't even see the sunlight. And I have to wash my own clothes by hand..."

"Katherine!" Bianca shrieked, panic pitching her voice high. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

Mrs. Crawford slammed her hand on the bedside table.

"Enough!"

She turned back to me, her face a mask of fury and heartbreak. "Damien... that ungrateful wretch. To treat his own wife and child this way? Unforgivable."

She squeezed my hand, her voice softening. "Pack your things. Today, you're moving back to the main estate. You'll live with us."

"No!"

The objection exploded out of Bianca before she could stop it. Her tone was hard, commanding—completely out of character for the sweet nutritionist she pretended to be.

Realizing her mistake, she quickly softened. "I mean... Auntie, I'm a professional nutritionist. I know Katherine's dietary needs best. I'll take good care of her, I promise."

Mrs. Crawford drew herself up to her full height. The matriarch of the Crawford family did not tolerate insolence.

"This is not your place to speak," she said, her voice like ice. "If you were truly taking care of her, how did she become a skeleton? How did she fall on your watch?"

She turned her back on Bianca, dismissing her entirely. "Get the car ready. We're leaving."