Bradley snatched the ultrasound up first. The second he saw what it was, his face scrunched like it reeked.

"Serena Linwood, faking a pregnancy? Seriously?"

I almost laughed.

Some people could stare truth in the face and still call it a lie.

Then, out of nowhere, he whipped the ultrasound sheet at me.

The edge sliced my cheek.

I pressed a hand to my face, eyes locked on him.

The guy I used to love felt like a total stranger now.

He used to bring me my favorite flowers, pull off cute little surprises.

If I got hurt, he'd wrap me up and say, "Does it hurt? Don't worry, I've got you."

Now? After the whole fake memory loss thing, he wouldn't even bother to spare me a glance.

Back when I heard he got hurt, I ran straight to the hospital.

But the way he looked at me—like I was dirt—cut deeper than any wound.

The guy who once loved me couldn't even stand being near me.

I tried everything to jog his memory. Climbed some endless stone steps to an old cathedral, begging for a miracle.

Walked away with busted knees, a scraped forehead, and no answers.

And him? He brought Vivian back.

"I don't know why I married you," he said, stone cold. "But I'll take responsibility. I'm not divorcing you. I only remember promising to love Vivian forever."

Just like that, he wiped out everything we had. Our whole story—gone.

He played the role so well, I didn't see it coming.

Not until day three after he threw me out. I was meeting a friend when I heard him laughing from a nearby room.

"Bradley, you really pulled it off. Got her to fall for you, then dumped her like a dog. She was totally played!"

And his voice? Chill as ever.

"She teamed up with my mom to kick Vivian out so she could marry me. She had it coming."

That's when it hit me— Bradley never loved me—he was just avenging Vivian.

He wanted me to fall, just so he could crush me with that fake amnesia act.

Their laughter kept echoing. I don't even remember leaving.

I just knew I felt nothing for him anymore. Not a spark.

Snapping back to the present, I crouched and picked up the sheet. Cool, calm.

"Whether I'm pregnant or not? Not your business anymore. Hope you and Vivian have a lovely life. Can I go now?"

The corridor went still.

No yelling. No last-minute pleas.

Bradley stared, eyes narrowing.

Swallowed hard, twice. Then muttered, jaw tight,

"You cook well. Vivian's been nauseous. Go make her something healthy."

Ordering me around—yeah, that was his thing.

But I wasn't the same Serena who used to stay quiet.

"Bradley, we're divorced. Your family's got more chefs than you can count. They'll do way better than me."

I said it flat, no warmth, and turned to go.

Bradley didn't care. Didn't even flinch.

Just grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the exit like my words meant nothing.

His grip was brutal, like he was trying to crush something.

Next thing I knew, he was dragging me back to his mansion—the last place on earth I ever wanted to be.

For two straight years, this house echoed with Vivian's stupid laugh.

Pretty sure she did it on purpose—left pieces of herself everywhere.

Her pink camisole hung off my favorite piano.

Used condoms scattered across the couch and rug I picked out.

Our wedding photo? In the trash, because Vivian pouted and he caved.

I used to think he'd remember me. So I swallowed every bit of it—silent, humiliated, hopeful.

Looking back now? Pathetic.

Bradley locked me in the kitchen to cook meals after confiscating everything I owned.

Nathan was unreachable, cops weren't an option.

And if I didn't obey? I didn't even want to think about it.

Last time I said no—just refused to grab Vivian's earrings—Bradley threw me into the pool.

Middle of a snowstorm.

The cold hit like a slap. My clothes soaked instantly.

I couldn't swim. Panicked. Water filled my nose, throat, lungs.

I flailed, gasping—

"Bradley... help me..."

But all he did was hold Vivian tighter, frowning like I was the inconvenience.

"Don't worry, Vivian. If the earrings are lost, I'll buy you new ones."

So I let the water drag me under.

Right before I blacked out, someone yanked me up.

I choked, gasped—met Bradley's dead-cold stare.

"Oh, right. Forgot you can't swim. Sorry."

Sounded like an apology. Felt like a slap.

He hauled me in front of Vivian. I collapsed, soaked and shaking.

They looked down at me like I was some wet, stray mutt.

Vivian smirked, looped her arm through his, and asked to go shopping.

Bradley didn't miss a beat.

"My mom's coming later. Clean yourself up."

I was freezing. Bones numb. Still defended him to Coraline.

Still told myself—he's just confused. Just lost his memory.

What a joke.

I didn't know how to make prenatal meals, so I just made pumpkin soup.

Of course, Bradley slammed it to the floor.

"Serena Linwood, what kind of tantrum is this?"

Hot soup splashed up my arm—instantly burned.

I cried out, hugged my belly, reached for the table to stay upright.

Before I could catch my breath, he dropped another command.

"Dinner at my mom's tonight. Get ready. And don't forget your lines."

Then he dragged me out to buy a long-sleeved dress—to hide the burn, obviously.

The car ride was silent the whole way.

His mom was throwing some big party—tons of guests.

Soon as she saw me, she lit up.

"Rena! Come over here!"

Coraline. Bradley's mom. My mom's best friend.

After my mom died, she kinda stepped in like family.

I helped her up, letting her hold my hand.

She fussed like old times, rattling off small talk.

But when she asked about Bradley, I dropped my gaze.

"We're already divorced. If he doesn't remember me, what's the point?"

Her hand froze. Her eyes filled with sympathy.

"Maybe that's for the best. You've been through enough since he forgot everything."

As we left, she threw Bradley a look and muttered, "You might be divorced, but don't think for a second that woman's stepping into my house."

His face darkened.

"It's just temporary. Once Vivian has the baby, Serena and I are getting back together."

I glanced at him. He was dead serious.

Before he could spew more nonsense, I cut in, "I'm already married. And pregnant. So no, there's no reunion happening."

He whipped his head toward me, stunned.

Just then, Coraline got called away. Some hospital emergency.

The second she left, Bradley yanked my hand and dragged me toward the backyard.

"Let go!" I snapped.

He just looked more pissed.

"You wanted a kid, right? After Vivian pops it out, you can raise it. Isn't that your dream? Making up this whole marriage and pregnancy thing just to guilt-trip me? Pathetic."

He really thought I was lying. Again.

When I couldn't pull away, I slapped him. Hard.

"Enough, Bradley. Still playing dumb—"

But before I could finish, people rushed out, yelling.

"There she is! The homewrecker!"

I froze as cameras came out, lights flashing.

A middle-aged woman shoved a photo at me—me kissing someone else.

"This tramp goes after anything with a heartbeat!"

Flashbulbs lit up my face. I shielded my eyes.

"I'm not a homewrecker! I didn't seduce anyone!"

No one cared. They yanked my hair, threw stuff—rocks, bottles, trash.

I curled up, trying to protect myself.

Then—snap.

Pain exploded through my arm. I hit the ground, barely conscious.

Through the crowd, I spotted Bradley.

Holding Vivian. Shielding her.

She looked back at me, teary-eyed and smug.

Whispered something.

He glanced at me... then turned and walked away.

My chest ached. Even after all this, it still hurt.

No one helped. I wrapped my arms around my belly.

"Please... don't hurt my baby..."

They didn't stop.

Tore my clothes. Screamed about dragging me through the streets.

Someone shoved me hard. I stumbled—

And strong arms caught me.

"Serena!"

Nathan's voice, right by my ear.

At the same time, Bradley showed up again—with security.

Someone screamed,

"She's bleeding! She's actually pregnant!"