In the fifth year of my marriage to Julian Volkov, the Don of Chicago, I became pregnant.

Julian and I were ecstatic, but at five months, I suffered a miscarriage. My private doctor claimed it was a rare complication.

I couldn't bear the news and fainted. Even the ever-stoic Don shed tears, and I thought his devastation mirrored my own.

Until I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his Consigliere.

"Don, why are you burying the toxicology report? Eleanora clearly ingested an alkaloid poison. Why aren't we hunting down whoever did this?" Cian's voice was tight with confusion.

"This ends here." Julian's voice was thick with suppressed anguish. "It was Scarlett. She… she accidentally mixed the poison into Eleanora’s supplements. She’s had severe psychological trauma since she took that bullet for me three years ago. She can’t tell the difference between those substances..."

"She was only trying to help, to make Eleanora stronger, to make me happy. But if the Elders find out, they will execute Scarlett for murdering the heir to the Volkov family."

Ever since Scarlett saved his life three years ago and moved into our home with a slew of so-called “aftereffects,” she had brazenly consumed our lives.

On stormy nights, she would slink into Julian’s bed wearing a translucent silk nightgown, crying that she was scared, forcing him to hold her all night while I was banished to the guest room.

He always said Scarlett was psychologically scarred, a fragile patient. He treated her as someone who needed protection and told me to be tolerant.

Fine. You love your Scarlett so much? Then I’ll grant your wish.

I picked up the encrypted satellite phone I hadn't touched in five years. "I regret it. I'm ready to come back and claim what is rightfully mine. Come and get me tomorrow."

But when I truly vanished, that once-invincible Don shattered his precious Scarlett with his own hands and begged me to return.

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1

Five months into my pregnancy, I suffered a miscarriage. My private doctor informed me it was a natural occurrence, the result of a rare complication.

My husband, Julian, clutched my hand, his face etched with grief, his voice hoarse. "Darling, we can try again. We'll have another one."

The news was too much. I fainted.

But when I awoke, I overheard a conversation through the slightly ajar door of my hospital room. It was Julian and his Consigliere, Cian.

"Don, why are you hiding the toxicology report from the doctor? Eleanora clearly ingested an alkaloid poison. Why aren't we hunting down whoever did this?" Cian’s voice was strained with confusion.

"We can't investigate." Julian's voice was thick with a pain he was trying to choke down. "It was Scarlett. She… she accidentally put the poison in Eleanora's supplements."

Cian drew a sharp breath. "Her? Is she insane?"

"She didn't mean it." Julian began speaking faster, trying to convince Cian—or maybe himself. "She hasn't been right since she took that bullet for me. Her mind is fragile now. You know this, Cian."

"She was just trying to help with the supplements today. She mixed up the poison with the nutrients. She thought it was something beneficial; she just wanted to make Eleanora better, to make me happy."

Listening to his absurd defense, I stared at the ceiling as hatred coiled in my gut.

That particular alkaloid poison was colorless and odorless, but its storage requirements were draconian. How could anyone mistake it for a nutritional supplement?

Cian clearly didn't buy it either. "Don, that's a hell of a stretch. That stuff—"

"Enough!" Julian snapped, his tone brutal. "If the Elders find out, they won't listen to a single excuse. They'll execute Scarlett for murdering the Volkov heir."

"She saved my life. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead. I won't stand by and watch her die."

"This ends now. The official story is an accident, due to Eleanora’s health. As for the child… we can always have another."

We can always have another.

That single sentence snuffed out the last ember of warmth I held for him.

Scarlett saved his life. I understood his need to repay that debt, but was that reason enough to sacrifice me? To sacrifice our child?

On what grounds?

Ever since he brought Scarlett to the estate three years ago, our marriage had devolved into a three-person farce.

Using her "PTSD" as a shield, Scarlett had invaded every corner of our lives.

On stormy nights, she would climb into his bed wearing one of Julian’s silk shirts, the garment so large it slid off her shoulders, crying that she was scared and forcing him to hold her all night while I was banished to the guest room.

He always said Scarlett was psychologically scarred and emotionally unstable, a patient in need of care. He treated her like a wounded animal he had to protect and told me to tolerate her behavior.

When I was restoring a priceless classical oil painting, she would "accidentally" spill turpentine over it, destroying months of my work, then blink her wide, innocent eyes and claim she was only trying to help.

Julian would just pat her head with feigned helplessness, then turn to scowl at me. "She didn't mean it. Don't stoop to her level. It's just a painting."

Six months ago, on our wedding anniversary, Julian booked the finest restaurant in the city for us.

Scarlett suddenly had an "episode," smashing everything in her suite and cutting herself with the fragments.

Julian abandoned me without a second thought, rushing back to hold her until dawn.

I sat alone in that restaurant until it closed. He never sent a single text.

And I had tolerated it all.

I thought he loved me. I thought his feelings for Scarlett were merely gratitude and a sense of duty.

Even when she pushed things too far, he would hold me afterward, murmuring apologies, saying he couldn't turn his back on the woman who saved his life.

But my tolerance had finally snapped.

I forced myself to sit up, retrieving the encrypted satellite phone I hadn't used in five years.

Julian had no idea I was the sole heir to the Sterling Syndicate.

Five years ago, I had defied my family, insisting on marrying the then-unproven Julian Volkov.

My brother, Maximilian, had once jabbed a finger in my face, his voice laced with fury as he warned that love had blinded me and I would one day regret it.

I had believed with all my heart that Julian was a man who would die for me.

To prove my devotion, I cut all ties with my family. I stayed by his side in this city, helping him claw his way from nothing to the throne of Don.

It seemed Maximilian was right after all.

I was a complete and utter fool.

My trembling fingers dialed my brother's number.

The call connected on the first ring.

A commanding voice answered, laced with a tremor of contained excitement.

"Eleanora? Is that you?"

It was my brother, Maximilian, the current head of the Sterling Syndicate.

"You were right," I said, my voice flat and cold. "I regret it. I'm ready to come back. Come and get me tomorrow."

I hung up and, ignoring the doctor's protests, went straight home.

When I pushed open the bedroom door, I found Scarlett draped over Julian.

She was wearing only one of his silk shirts, three buttons undone. The thin fabric clung to the curves of her body, leaving little to the imagination.

She wore no bra, and her soft breasts were pressed against Julian's arm, creating a deliberate friction with his every breath.

Julian sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, a document in his hand and a slight frown on his face.

He tried to pull his arm away, his voice laced with helplessness. "Scarlett, go put on some clothes. You're not a child. I'm your protector, but you can't parade around me like this."

Scarlett didn't retreat.

She pressed herself even closer, melting into his side. She pouted, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

"Julian, don't you want me anymore? Am I a bother now?"

"I just wanted a hug. You used to love hugging me. Did I do something wrong?" Her voice broke into a pathetic whimper.

That cloyingly sweet, baby-doll voice, coming from that mature, seductive body, was sickening.

His resolve crumbled.

He stopped pushing her away, sighed, and reached out to pat her back. "Stop crying. I didn't mean it like that. Of course I don't want you to leave. I promised to take care of you."

Scarlett buried her face in his neck with a satisfied hum.

But from an angle Julian couldn't see, she lifted her head and locked her gaze with mine.

There was no trace of a patient’s vulnerability in those eyes—only naked provocation and triumph.

I didn't rush in to tear them apart as I once would have. I simply stood there, ice in my veins.

Julian finally noticed me.

He shot up as if electrocuted, shoving Scarlett away so forcefully she stumbled against the bedside table.

Ignoring her cry of pain, he strode toward me, his face a mask of panic and concern. "Darling, you're back? How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?"

He tried to cover his awkwardness by reaching for me. "Don't just stand there, come lie down. Just now… Scarlett was having a tantrum. She's a patient, don't mind her."

I sidestepped, evading his touch.

He had just touched that woman's skin. Revulsion churned in my stomach.

Julian’s hand hung in the air for a moment before he awkwardly let it fall.

He took a deep breath, his voice gentle and placating. "I know you're upset. About the baby… I'm heartbroken too. But we have to look forward. The doctor said it was an accident. Once you've recovered, we can have another child."

I sneered inwardly. There will be no more children.

But I couldn't be bothered to argue. I just gave a silent, hollow nod.

Seeing my nod, he let out a sigh of relief. "Then get some rest. I have to go to my study to handle some family business."

I nodded, returned to my room, and began to pack. Half an hour later, two suitcases were full.

After packing, I thought of the nursery.

It held everything I had prepared for our son, Leo, over the past five months, including an antique cradle I had restored myself.

Even though the child was gone, I wanted to take the cradle with me.

But when I pushed open the door, my blood ran cold.

The nursery was a wasteland.

The crib Julian had assembled was overturned. The stuffed animals in the corner were ripped to shreds, their cotton entrails scattered across the floor.

The mural I had painted was defaced with streaks of red paint that dripped down the wall like blood.

And the tiny clothes I cherished, along with the antique cradle, were now a shredded pile at Scarlett's feet.

She held a box cutter in her hand.

She stood in the middle of the wreckage, calmly slicing the last pacifier to ribbons.

Hearing the door open, she turned.

The innocent mask was gone.

She toyed with the cutter, her eyes vicious and cruel, a brutal smile playing on her lips.

"Oops, you found me."

Her voice was no longer that sickening baby-doll tone, but laced with mockery.

"Such a pity, all these lovely things." She ground the pile of tattered cloth under her heel. "But it doesn't matter. That little bastard won't be needing them. They were an eyesore anyway. I got rid of them for you. You should thank me."

I stared at her, my nails digging into my palms. "You've been faking it."

"And you're just now realizing it?" Scarlett laughed, her body shaking. "Only a moron like Julian would believe I have PTSD. But thanks to you being just as stupid and believing every lie, I got to play this game for three years."

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How did that poison taste?"

"It's a shame you didn't die. But I am so glad that bastard in your belly did."

Smack!

I slapped her across the face with every ounce of strength I had.

Scarlett's head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of her mouth.

But she didn't retaliate. Instead, a triumphant smile spread across her face.

The next second, she let out a piercing scream and hurled herself backward, crashing into a glass display cabinet in the hallway.

"Ah—! Eleanora, don't kill me! I'm sorry!"

"Scarlett!" Julian's horrified roar echoed from downstairs.

He rushed over and gathered the whimpering Scarlett, who had collapsed among the glass shards, into his arms.

Covered in bloody scratches, she trembled in his embrace and pointed a shaking finger at me at the top of the stairs.

"Julian… Eleanora is trying to kill me… She said I killed the baby…"

"I just accidentally broke something in the nursery… and she pushed me…"

Julian's head snapped up, his gaze locking on me.

His eyes were filled with disbelief and a boiling rage.

"Eleanora! Are you out of your mind?"

He roared, "She's a patient! Even if she broke something, you don't throw her into a glass cabinet! You could have killed her!"

I stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the pathetic pair.

"She's not sick. It's an act. She destroyed the nursery. She poisoned me. She just admitted it!"

Seeing my cold expression and the hatred in my eyes, a flicker of doubt crossed Julian's face.

He looked down at Scarlett and asked sternly, "Did you throw yourself?"

"I didn't! My head hurts so much…" Scarlett switched back to her weak, whimpering persona, looking at me in terror and shaking her head frantically. "Julian, it wasn't me! I'm not a bad girl… Julian, don't throw me away…"

Seeing her apparent pain and fear, Julian's flicker of doubt hardened into heartache and anger.

"That's enough, Eleanora. How can you slander her like this?"

Julian saw the mockery in my eyes, and his tone softened into a condescending lecture. "I know losing the baby has left you traumatized, but I saw the state she was in after she was shot. She couldn't be faking. She's a patient. Maybe she wanted to look at the baby's things and broke them by accident. How could you hurt her?"

"Apologize to Scarlett now, and I'll pretend this never happened."

Apologize? To her?

Killing her wouldn't be enough to sate the rage inside me, and he wanted me to apologize.

In that moment, the last wisp of love I had for Julian was extinguished.

I descended the stairs, step by step.

Julian, thinking I was about to apologize, breathed a sigh of relief.

But I simply stopped in front of him and said calmly, "Julian, our marriage is over."

Julian froze, a look of disbelief and profound hurt flashing across his face.

"Darling, what are you talking about?" His voice trembled. "I know losing the child was a massive blow, but you can't say things like that."

When I didn't respond, his tone softened into pleading. "It's my fault. You're exhausted and not thinking clearly. I shouldn't have told you to apologize. I know how much pain you're in. You just need to rest."

He sighed. Though he still held Scarlett, his gaze was fixed on me, filled with worry. "Please, stop saying things you don't mean. It's killing me."

He ordered a bodyguard to "escort" me back to my room.

He then arranged a generous compensation for Scarlett and had the best private doctor attend to her superficial scratches. He still believed I had pushed her. A suffocating sorrow constricted my chest.

At ten o'clock that night, he entered the master bedroom.

He held a bouquet of white roses—my favorite.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gently rested his head on my shoulder as I lay with my back to him.

"Darling, don't be angry anymore." His voice was hoarse with exhaustion and vulnerability.

"I know you're in pain. I'm devastated about the baby too. That wasn't just your child; it was mine."

He wrapped his arms around my rigid body, his touch a familiar comfort that now felt like a cage.

"About Scarlett… I know she was wrong. She shouldn't have touched Leo's room. We can deal with it when you've calmed down. But when you talked about ending our marriage… it terrified me. It broke my heart."

"The doctor said as long as you recover, we can have more children. Please, don't push me away. Don't torture me with angry words you don't mean, alright?"

Watching him perform this tender scene, his eyes red and his face a mask of affection, was nauseatingly ironic.

He was always like this. It was why I had truly believed he loved me, and that Scarlett was merely a responsibility.

But I wouldn't be fooled again.

Tomorrow, after I say a final goodbye to my son, my brother will come for me.

The next morning, we went to the family cemetery.

It was the hallowed resting place of the Volkovs. We were there to place a memorial plaque for our unborn child.

Halfway through the ceremony, Julian's phone buzzed. A critical shipment at the docks had been hijacked.

A flicker of conflict crossed Julian's face, but he didn't hesitate for long.

"Darling, there's an emergency. I have to go."

He waved to Scarlett, who was standing a short distance away.

"Scarlett will stay with you. I know her mind isn't right, but she's family. I'll rest easier knowing she's with you. Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

Julian hastily kissed my forehead, then turned and left with his men.

A minute after he was gone, the vacant smile on Scarlett's face vanished. She strolled over to the memorial plaque and kicked over the white roses Julian had just placed there. "Does your little bastard deserve flowers this expensive?"

Smack!

I didn't waste a single word, just swung my hand with all my strength and slapped her hard across the face.

Scarlett was stunned. She clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. "You… you dare hit me? Julian will be back any minute. He won't let you get away with this."

"You think I'm afraid to hit you?" I sneered, then drove my foot into her knee.

Scarlett screamed. She glared at me, her eyes blazing with rage.

But a few seconds later, a strange, chilling laugh escaped her lips. "Fine. You've got guts. But you won't be feeling so arrogant for long."

She pulled out a burner phone and dialed a number.

In less than a minute, a dozen thugs bearing the tattoos of a rival family emerged from the surrounding woods, encircling us.