I opened my eyes again in a VIP hospital room. The doctor told me the impact had caused a miscarriage; the baby couldn't be saved. I was stunned for a few seconds before realizing I'd been pregnant without my knowledge.

The room door was open and I could hear the nurses talking in the hallway.

"Miss Brown is so lucky, but she was too shocked; Mr. Beckham stayed with her all night."

"But Mrs. Beckham suffered a fracture and miscarriage and Mr. Beckham didn't even come to see her. It's true, old flames can never compare to new ones."

"Who says otherwise? But I heard that someone who gossiped at the banquet and deliberately asked sarcastic questions, had her family's company suddenly investigated this morning; bankruptcy is imminent."

"And the two workers responsible for repairing the hotel chandeliers were taken away last night. It's said… Mr. Beckham personally intervened."

"Well, it seems Mrs. Beckham isn't entirely without a place in Mr. Beckham's heart."

I listened with my eyes closed, but my heart was ice-cold. Griffin did all this, not for me at all. It was simply because someone had dared to harm his wife on his territory, damaging the Beckham Family's reputation. If he truly cared, I wouldn't be sitting here listening to this gossip alone.

For the next three days, I stayed in the hospital. The news and social media, however, were abuzz. Griffin spent lavishly to comfort the frightened Quincy.

He held a solo exhibition for her at the city's art museum, even though Quincy's works seemed laughably naive to me, Suzy Flynn, a former art academy prodigy. He bought a set of jade jewelry, once in the collection of European royalty, at a high price at an auction, named it "Quincy," and presented it to her in an ostentatious display.

Just because Quincy casually mentioned liking Venice, he chartered a private jet, planning to take her there for a relaxing vacation.

I calmly scrolled past these notifications. I suddenly remembered that when we first got married, I had cautiously mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights in Norway. Griffin was working on documents at the time and didn't even look up, "What's so interesting about that harsh, cold place? The company's busy; don't make any trouble."

After that, I never mentioned it again.

That afternoon, I called a nurse, dragged my still-recovering body, completed the administration alone and left the hospital.

Back in that cold villa, I entered the password and the lock beeped with an error message. I tried again; still wrong. The password had been changed.

I rang the doorbell and a few seconds later the door opened, but it wasn't a maid; it was Quincy. She was wearing soft loungewear, her long hair loosely tied up, like the lady of the house.

Seeing me return, she showed just the right amount of surprise, then smiled gently, "You back? Come in quickly, Griffin is helping me pick out a dress."

My gaze passed over her and landed on Griffin sitting on the sofa in the living room, holding a wedding dress catalog.

"Why did you change the password?" I asked coldly.

Quincy blinked, her voice soft, "Well, I've been a light sleeper lately and I'm always worried about safety. Griffin said to change the password to my birthday, so I feel more at ease. Suzy, you don't mind, do you?"

Griffin then looked up at the door, his brow furrowing slightly, "Why were you discharged from the hospital?"

Looking at his expression and reaction, I suddenly felt that even questioning him was superfluous. I couldn't stay a second longer and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Griffin's voice came from behind me.

I didn't turn around. "Griffin," my voice was soft, yet each word was clear, "Three days."

"What three days?"

"Three days from now is your birthday."

It would also the day I leave. I didn't finish the sentence. I turned and glanced at him, my eyes calm and unwavering, as if looking at a stranger.

"That day, I will give you a gift you will never forget."

For the next two days, I stayed at the hospital with my mother. In the afternoon, I had just reached the hospital entrance with the porridge I bought. Suddenly several men in black covered my mouth and dragged me into a car.

When I opened my eyes again, I was already on the yacht. Griffin stood opposite me, his eyes bloodshot. Beside him, Spencer was tied up, hanging from the cabin railing.

"Griffin, what are you doing? Let Spencer go!" I stared in terror.

"Tell me first, where did you take Quincy?" Griffin's voice was hoarse. "She's been missing for a whole day. In this world, who else but you would dare to harm her?"

"I don't know. Release Spencer now!" I struggled to stand up, but the bodyguard held me down firmly.

"You don't know? Looks like you won't admit it until you see the coffin." Griffin was getting impatient and nodded to the bodyguard.

The bodyguard gave a sudden shove and Spencer was left hanging precariously over the ship's railing.

"Stop!" I lunged forward. "Are you crazy? Pull him up!"

The next second, Griffin pulled out a knife from somewhere, looking at Spencer suspended in mid-air, his tone terrifyingly calm, "I'll give you one last chance. Where's Quincy?"

"I don't know! What do you want me to say?" I grabbed his arm. "Griffin, look at me. Have I ever lied to you in my life?"

Griffin's eyes wavered for a moment, but then darkened again. "If you still won't tell, don't blame me for being impolite."

Before he finished speaking, he raised his hand and swung the knife, the rope snapping instantly. Spencer's figure plummeted straight into the dark sea, splashing everywhere with a loud splash. I pushed past his restraints, trying to jump into the sea to save him, but Griffin held me tightly.

"Where's Quincy? Tell me and I'll have someone save him!"

"I don't know, I swear I don't know!" I struggled frantically, watching the bubble on the surface of the sea shrink.

Just then, Griffin's phone rang. He answered the phone, listened for a few seconds and his face changed drastically, "You found her? I'm coming right now!"

With that, he released me, turned and rushed out of the cabin without looking back. The bodyguards quickly followed him and the yacht was instantly empty.

Without thinking, I jumped into the sea. The icy water submerged my head. I groped in the darkness and finally grabbed his sinking body.

When I finally dragged him onto the deck with all my might, Spencer's lips were already blue. I knelt beside him, desperately pressing on his chest, performing artificial respiration again and again.

My hands trembled, I pressed until I was exhausted, but he never opened his eyes again. I held his cold body like that on the deck until dawn.

Only when it was fully light did I emerge from my grief and in a daze, I obtained Spencer's death certificate and cremated his body.

Then I went to the hospital to complete my mother's transfer procedures. After watching her safely board a medical plane bound for overseas, I returned to the villa, clutching Spencer's ashes. I packed a few essential clothes and important documents into my suitcase.

My phone lit up; it was a message from Griffin, [Don't forget the birthday party at 7 PM tonight. Bring Spencer along. Also, weren't you going to give me a big gift? I'm really looking forward to it.]

I lowered my head, looking at the urn in my arms, my nails digging deep into my palms. Forcing back my grief, I replied with a simple [Okay.]

As I went downstairs, the butler was standing in the living room.

I handed him a box, "It's Mr. Beckham's birthday party tonight. Be sure to give this to him personally and tell him I wish him all his wishes come true."

The sun was shining brightly as I stepped out of the villa. A black sedan pulled up at the door and the driver got out and took my suitcase.

The car drove towards the airport, merging into the bustling traffic. I rolled down the car window, took one last look at the city sky and then blocked all of Griffin's contact access.

Afterwards, I sent the surveillance video from the yacht last night to major media outlets and the police via scheduled transmission.