After two years abroad, I came home to find eight handsome young men lounging in my house.

Ira looked perfectly composed. “They’re just business contacts,” she said lightly. “Social obligations. Nothing more. Since you’re back, I’ll send them away.”

And she did—one by one, I watched them leave.

The last to go was Devin Duncan. Before stepping out, he deliberately shattered my mother’s portrait. I slapped him without hesitation and sent him back to the place he’d come from—Night.

That night, Ira stayed up working in the study. The next morning, she was unusually gentle with me.

But within days, my father died in a sudden car crash. My brother fell down the stairs and never woke up again.

He’s been a vegetable ever since.

Numb, I wandered to the rooftop. That’s when I heard voices drifting up from below.

“Miss Ira, Devin has settled into the villa on the outskirts to recuperate.”

“Your husband’s family… has been handled.”

“But if Mr. Moyer finds out—”

“So what if he does?” Ira’s voice was cold, amused. “Where could he possibly run to?”

My entire body trembled. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to breathe.

It was all her.

Everything—my father’s death, my brother’s fall—was because I had dared to send him back. The little dog she kept hidden in her heart.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had sworn to forget.

“Hello,” I said, my voice hollow. “I want to see that person.”

——

Later, I stood by my brother’s bedside, staring at his peaceful, unseeing face. My throat tightened until I could barely breathe.

Somehow, I ended up back on the rooftop. I don’t remember how I got there.

Voices again.

“Did you deliver the supplements to Devin?”

“Yes, Miss Ira. He says he’s been having nightmares… He wants to see you.”

“Mmm,” she replied softly. “And the rehabilitation center?”

“Arranged. The best package—1.28 million. Also, the seaside villa and the Lamborghini have been transferred to Mr. Duncan’s name.”

Ira’s voice turned almost tender.

“He’s still weak. Be careful with him. Don’t let him suffer…

After all, he’s the father of my first child.”

My hands clenched so hard I felt my nails break the skin.

“What about Mr. Moyer…?”

“Omar?” Her voice turned icy. “If he dared to send Devin back to a place like Night, then he should’ve prepared to bear the consequences.”

“But…” the assistant hesitated. “The Moyer family is already in ruin. The old man’s dead, the younger son’s in a coma. If he ever finds out that you were behind it all…”

Ira laughed coldly.

“So what if he knows? Who else does he have left—besides me?”

A chill wind swept across the rooftop, slicing through me like a blade.

So it was all true.

All of it.

My father’s death. My brother’s accident. The annihilation of my family… all for Devin.

The same Devin who once said, almost sheepishly, “I grew up in the club.”

And I—fool that I was—sent him back to the only home he knew.

The woman who once slept beside me every night had destroyed everything I held dear—for a man from the entertainment underworld.

I leaned against the wall, heart in shreds.

Then her voice drifted up once more.

“One more thing,” she said quietly. “Make sure Omar can never have children.”

“I want the Moyer bloodline erased from Toronto’s elite. Completely.”

The world stopped. My blood turned to ice.

Over the years, I’d asked her again and again to have a child with me.

And every time, she had an excuse.

Too painful. Too risky. Too soon.

She’d always smiled and said, “Omar, we still have time.”

Downstairs finally fell silent.

I leaned against the wall as I descended, my legs so weak they could barely hold me.

“Omar?” Ira’s voice rang out from behind.

I flinched violently and nearly lost my balance.

She reached out to steady me, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “Why are you shaking like this?”

I forced a smile, biting my lip. “Maybe it’s the wind… it’s a bit cold.”

But when her fingers touched me, my body stiffened as if struck by ice.

Back inside the villa, I curled under the covers, trembling. Images of my father lying in a pool of blood and my brother’s lifeless body in a hospital bed played endlessly in my mind.

And worse—her voice echoed again: “Make Omar infertile.”

She didn’t just want to destroy my family—she wanted to erase our bloodline.

A horrifying thought surged into my mind. The "vitamins" she had made me take for years… could they have been—

I bolted upright, heart pounding, and grabbed my car keys. I didn’t even stop to put on shoes. I had to get to a hospital. I had to know the truth now.

But the moment I threw the door open—

Blinding headlights.

I froze.

A car was racing toward me.

BANG.

A searing pain tore through me before everything went dark.

In that final moment, I thought I saw her—Ira—standing at the second-floor window, staring down, expressionless.

---

I woke up in a hospital room. The sterile air, the sharp scent of antiseptic.

Ira was by my side, holding my hand, her eyes red with worry.

“Omar,” she said softly, “you were hit by a car… The vas deferens was severely damaged. The doctors… they had no choice. You’ve been sterilized.”

I stared at her, numb. Her face blurred as nausea surged up inside me.

The monitor beside me shrieked as my heart rate spiked. Darkness swallowed me once again.

---

In that darkness, I dreamed.

I was back at the university dance. The spotlight lit up Ira’s face as she walked toward me, radiant, eyes full of stars.

Back then, she was pure. Earnest. She’d wait all night outside my dorm just to hand me breakfast. She’d worked three months in secret just to buy me a pair of limited-edition sneakers.

When my father found out we were dating, he was furious.

“She’s a wild girl from the slums! You’ll ruin your life marrying her!”

I knelt on the cold floor of his study. “Dad, she’s different. She earns scholarships every year. She’s better than any pampered heiress.”

He finally relented, tears brimming in his eyes.

On the day we got our marriage certificate, her hands trembled as she held it. “Omar, I’ll make you the happiest man in the world.”

But marriage changed her.

She became unpredictable—sometimes tender, sometimes cold and cruel. I walked on a tightrope every day, never knowing which version of her I’d face.

When I got the chance to teach abroad, I took it. It felt less like an opportunity and more like an escape.

---

Now I was trapped again—this time in a deeper darkness.

Her voice floated in and out.

“Why hasn’t he woken up yet?” she asked, anxious. Desperate. Almost like the girl she used to be.

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

Someone wiped it away.

Then another voice: “Miss Ira, why are you doing this? After all… he’s your husband!”

Her voice turned cold.

“This is what the Moyer family owes me.”

“When Jacob Moyer demolished our village, my parents resisted. They were beaten to death in front of me. I was twelve. Hiding in a closet. Listening to their screams.

No one paid. No one cared. I spent the rest of my childhood being passed between homes like garbage.”

“But, sir—he’s innocent—”

“I said this is the best outcome!” she snapped. “The Moyer bloodline is dirty. I will not let it survive. I will wipe it off the face of Toronto.”

My chest ached. My fingers curled tightly beneath the blanket.

I couldn’t lie still anymore.

Slowly, painfully, I forced my eyes open.

Ira leaned over me immediately, her face full of false concern.

“Omar,” she whispered, “you’re awake… do you feel any better?”

When I said nothing, Ira sat quietly by the bed and gently held my hand.

“Don’t be sad,” she said softly. “It doesn’t matter if we can’t have a child. I’ll always stay by your side.”

I leaned my face against her shoulder. Hidden from her view, my lips curved into a smile—one uglier than crying.

---

After a month in the hospital, I was finally discharged.

Strangely, Ira didn’t come. She only sent a driver to pick me up.

I pushed open the familiar front door. This place that once held warmth and laughter now echoed with silence. The only reason I stayed was to dig out the truth—to find evidence of my father’s and brother’s murder.

Then I heard movement.

The door opened.

A tall, handsome man stepped inside. Lipstick stains still clung to his shirt collar.

Ira froze when she saw me. Then she quickly composed herself. “Omar, he…”

She paused, eyes flickering. “Last week I was attacked by a competitor. He shielded me and got hurt. He needs time to recover. His health isn’t good… I couldn’t just leave him out on the street.”

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and nodded calmly. “I understand.”

Relieved, she turned to the staff. “Take good care of Mr. Duncan.”

---

The days that followed were deceptively calm.

Until one evening at dinner, Devin raised his glass and insisted on pouring me wine.

I batted his hand away, irritated. “Don’t touch me.”

He retracted his hand, his smile chillingly cold.

Then, without warning, he clutched his abdomen and doubled over in pain.

“The wine…” he gasped. “The doctor said alcohol could reopen my wound!”

He pointed at me, voice shaking. “You… you did this on purpose! You’re trying to hurt me!”

“I didn’t touch you,” I replied flatly.

Ira’s expression turned to ice. She rushed to his side. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

---

They returned late that night.

Devin’s face was pale. Ira’s voice was sharper than a blade. “Omar, that was too far.”

A pang shot through my chest.

Devin leaned weakly against the doorframe, voice trembling with just the right hint of performance. “Mr. Moyer… I know you’re struggling with being… unable to have children. But you can’t take that out on others. You could’ve killed me.”

I let out a low laugh, saying nothing.

Ira suddenly grabbed my wrist, her eyes ablaze. “Apologize!”

“I did nothing wrong!” I snapped, trying to pull free.

Devin began coughing violently at that exact moment.

The fury in Ira’s eyes burned hotter.

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Since you won’t apologize…”

She gave a subtle nod.

Two bodyguards appeared and dragged me out into the courtyard.

They forced me to the ground.

A tray was brought out—a bowl piled with steaming shrimp.

I froze. My heart dropped.

“You don’t want to apologize?” Her voice was as soft as ever, but now it was edged with cruelty. “Then try this.”

The hot shrimp meat was shoved into my mouth. I choked, and my body began to tremble. My vision blurred, rashes bloomed across my skin, and breathing became harder with each second.

“Apologize!” she screamed, eyes filled with disgust.

I turned my face away, jaw clenched.

The suffocation hit me like a wave. My limbs spasmed. Darkness rushed in.

She knew. She knew I was deathly allergic to seafood.

And she still did this.

---

I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in a hospital bed.

Ira stood over me, her expression unreadable, but her voice was trembling with rage.

“Omar,” she said coldly, “why do you always refuse to bow your head? Why can’t you just admit when you’re wrong?”

At that moment, Devin appeared at the doorway, his eyes red and rimmed with tears.

“Miss Ira, let it go,” he said weakly. “Mr. Moyer looks down on people like me… nightclub trash. He wants me gone. I understand.”

As he spoke, his gaze shifted, almost imperceptibly, toward Ira’s abdomen.