To my surprise, Giselle didn’t get angry at my words. Instead, she slowly pulled a sharp, glinting hairpin from her pocket.

“I know you’re furious right now,” she said, her voice eerily calm, “but I’ve had enough of that smug, self-righteous look on your face. I’m prettier than you, I had better grades than you—and yet, I ended up with a piece of trash. But you? You’re just a worthless orphan. Why should someone like you get to have a man like Frederick?”

"You shouldn't live better than me!" she seethed.

Before I could react, she slashed her own wrist with the hairpin. Then she charged toward me, and with a swift motion, sliced my face.

She flung the hairpin down the stairs and clutched her bleeding wrist before running off.

My face burned with pain. I hurried to the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel to stop the bleeding.

Then her piercing scream rang out from below.

“Help! She tried to kill me! Frederick, help—Gracie is trying to kill me!”

Frederick had just stepped through the door when he saw Giselle running toward him, blood gushing from her wrist. His heart dropped.

Instinctively, he looked around for me.

He saw me descending the stairs with a towel pressed to my bleeding face, my presence heavy with silent fury.

He immediately called the family doctor, urging them to come as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, he began treating Giselle’s wounds, all while glaring at me like I was a monster.

“Gracie, what the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? You really think you can get away with attempted murder?!”

Oddly, I felt calm. As I watched him hold Giselle in his arms, trembling and whimpering, a cold numbness spread through me.

“What if I told you Giselle attacked me first—and that she cut herself to frame me? Would you believe me?”

Frederick’s face darkened, and his brows furrowed deeply.

“Do you think I’d believe that? Gracie can’t even kill a bug. Why are you blaming her for your miscarriage? That’s pathetic!”

His words stung more than the cut on my face. A bitter laugh escaped me, tinged with the pain of betrayal.

“So whatever she says, you believe? I carried your child. I lost that child. And none of that matters to you because of a few fake tears and a self-inflicted cut?”

I wiped away my tears and slowly bent to pick up the discarded hairpin. Then, heartbroken and numb, I stepped toward Frederick.

“If you don't apologize to Giselle, get on your knees and beg her forgiveness, then forget the wedding. We’ll file for divorce,” he said coldly.

I scoffed and looked at him with dead eyes.

Then, in one swift motion while neither of them was watching, I slashed the back of Giselle’s hand with the hairpin.

“Aahhh—!”

Blood welled up instantly. Giselle screamed, shrinking into Frederick’s arms like a terrified child.

“There,” I said, my voice was like ice. “That’s what it looks like when I actually hurt her.”

Frederick looked stunned—but only for a second. Fury overtook his expression, and he kicked me hard in the stomach.

I had just been discharged after a miscarriage—how could I possibly withstand that?

I collapsed to the ground, clutching my abdomen, unable to even cry out. My face throbbed from the earlier cut, but I barely noticed.

Blood seeped onto the floor.

Only then did Frederick realize he might have gone too far. His face paled as panic flickered in his voice.

“Gracie... are you okay?”

Before he could do anything else, Giselle cried out again.

“Frederick, my hand! It hurts so much! What if I can never play tennis again?”

He hesitated for a second—just one—then scooped her up and rushed out the door.

“I called the family doctor. Hold on a bit longer.”

After saying that, he didn’t look back.

I stared after him, my body trembling, my skin drained of color. Tears streamed down my face as I clutched my abdomen in silence.

The doctor arrived shortly after. By then, I was nearly unconscious from the pain.

After being rushed to the hospital and undergoing a full examination, I received the diagnosis—my uterus had sustained significant trauma. A slightly harder impact could’ve caused internal bleeding—possibly even death.

The doctor gently recommended seeing a cosmetic specialist for my facial injury, warning that it might leave a permanent scar if untreated.

But I just shook my head.

“No, thank you,” I said in a flat voice.

He told me the wound might heal naturally, though scarring would depend on my skin’s recovery ability.

I returned to the suburban villa with the cut still raw on my face.

It was dark inside, except for a single room upstairs—the one that had once been my bridal suite. Now, it was their den of betrayal.

From the hallway, I heard the unmistakable sounds of moaning and laughter.

Drawn by something beyond reason, I climbed the stairs one step at a time.

At the door, I heard Giselle’s sultry voice.

“Why are you still going through with the wedding? Now that she knows everything, just break it off. Wouldn’t it be better to make me your bride?”

Through the narrow gap in the door, I saw them—their bodies tangled together.

Frederick’s voice was low and casual as he responded, “I have a reputation to maintain. Everyone already knows I’m marrying Gracie. If we divorce now, how would that look? It would ruin my company’s IPO. Just be patient, baby. Once everything stabilizes. I’ll dump her.”

I stood at the doorway, each word from Frederick stabbing into me like a slow, torturous death.

Just as I was about to retreat, trying to escape this nightmare, Giselle spotted me through the crack in the bedroom door.

The door was suddenly flung open from the inside.

She stood there in a messy silk nightgown, thick gauze wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes landed on my disheveled, tear-stained face, and her lips curled into a scornful smile.

“I thought there's a thief,” she sneered. “Turns out it was just you. Not a single sound at all. Tsk. I didn't know you had a habit of eavesdropping.”

Frederick emerged moments later, wearing just one slipper, and a trace of panic in his expression when he saw me. But once our eyes met, he looked away, unsure what to say.

“If you’re not busy, go make dinner for Gracie,” he mumbled.

Perhaps he noticed how pale I looked because he coughed awkwardly and added, “Never mind. I’ll have someone deliver food instead.”

But Giselle wasn’t having it. She clung to Frederick’s arm, pouting and swaying slightly, pretending to be upset.

“No, I want Gracie to cook. I love her cola chicken wings. Just think of it as her way of apologizing to me. If she makes them, I’ll forgive her for scratching me.”

Frederick glanced at me, clearly unwilling to argue with her. He gave in with a gentle smile, the kind he used to give me.

“You heard her. Gracie only wants to eat what you cook. She’s always been kind, and she’s your best friend—you know her. Just making dinner isn’t a big deal. This is the most tolerance she’s willing to show.”

I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white, anger clouding my mind.

Frederick only cared about Giselle—her mood, her whims, her pain. Yet he completely ignored mine. Even now, I stood right outside their bedroom door, clearly having heard everything. Still, he acted like it didn’t matter.

“If she wants to eat, she can cook for herself,” I snapped. “Giselle, how shameless do you have to be to ask me—the woman you betrayed—to cook for you?”

My chest rose and fell violently as I turned my fury on Frederick.

“I can’t believe the man I loved became someone this disgusting after losing his memory. Maybe I never truly knew you. Frederick, tomorrow I’ll make the divorce public. We’re over.”

His brows drew tightly together, clearly not expecting me to be so direct.

“Gracie, don’t forget—I bought this villa for you when we got engaged. I’ve already told my friends, my family, even business partners. And now you just want to end it? Do you know how much I’ll have to clean up after you? My company is about to go public! Didn’t you say you loved me? Why are you trying to ruin me at the most critical moment?”

He let out a cold snort.

“And don’t forget—you’re just an orphan. Without me, where would you go? I could ruin your career with just one sentence.”

My blood boiled. I pointed at the swollen, raw scar on my face, tears threatening to spill again as I stared into his eyes.

“See this scar? The Frederick I loved would never have ignored it. You’re not him—you’re just a backstabbing, disgusting liar.”

With that, I pushed past him and stepped into the bedroom.

I looked around the once-familiar space—our wedding room. All the photos of him and Giselle were gone, or probably hidden. But I knew they had been here. I had seen them.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Still trying to fool yourself, Frederick? Do you really think I haven’t seen the wedding photos you took with Giselle? The sunrise hike, the mountaintop, the aurora, the beach vacation—those were all places you promised to take me. And don’t think I didn’t notice the baby crib in the corner. This is what you call preparing for our wedding?”

“We’ll talk about this later. You’re clearly exhausted and imagining things,” he said, grabbing my arm.

Before I could react, he forced me down the stairs and shoved me into the guest room. He locked the door behind me, then left with Giselle.

He said they'd bring food back after dinner.

Fortunately, he hadn’t taken my phone.

With trembling hands, I dialed a number I had saved for a long time.

“Senior,” I said, voice shaking. “Do you remember the promise you made to me on the cruise? Does it still count?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “If you’re ready to leave, I’ll pick you up. Has Frederick agreed?”

“We’re getting divorced. His opinion doesn’t matter anymore,” I said flatly.

“Then let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”

I had gotten my passport six months ago, but I never used it, hoping we'd finally take that long-overdue trip.

But instead, I found photos of Frederick and Giselle traveling together—right there, displayed on the clock in that bedroom.

All the places he once promised to take me... he went with her.

Now I would go on my own.

After hanging up, I called the fire department and told them I had accidentally locked myself in the room and couldn’t get out.

It didn’t take long for the firefighters to get me out.

I left the villa immediately and took a cab back into the city—to the apartment Frederick and I once shared.

It had been a while since I was last here. A fine layer of dust coated every surface, as if this place had forgotten me as well.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I packed while searching online for a rental agent. I had nowhere else to go after leaving that house, and I needed a new place—fast.

Bitterness welled up inside me, but I had nowhere to put it. I shoved my clothes into my suitcase one by one, each fold and zip laced with heartbreak.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook me, and I lay down for a brief rest.

I never expected Giselle to show up here.

I woke to her shoving me hard, disoriented and choking on thick, acrid smoke. I coughed violently as the smell of burning filled my lungs.

Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her stomach in a panic.

"The house is on fire! I’m pregnant with Frederick’s baby—you have to save me!"

I froze, stunned by her words. What was she doing here? How did she even find this apartment? And why the hell was it suddenly on fire?

I leapt out of bed and rushed to the bedroom door—only to be greeted by thick smoke billowing through the living room. The flames had already engulfed the furniture and curtains.

A pile of delivery boxes near the front door was ablaze, completely blocking the only exit.

My eyes stung, and I could barely breathe.

I grabbed a thin blanket, soaked it with water in the bathroom, and was about to cover my face when Giselle snatched it from me.

"I’m carrying Frederick’s child," she snapped. "If anything happens to me here, do you think Frederick will ever forgive you?"

I didn’t answer. Instead, I soaked another towel, covered my nose and mouth, and opened the window. With a solid blow, I smashed the glass from the inside.

Fire trucks had already arrived outside.

Just then, my phone buzzed—it was Frederick calling.

For a fleeting moment, I hoped he might be worried about me, that he might care. But the moment I picked up, his voice thundered through the phone.

"Gracie, I can’t believe how vicious you’ve become! You lured Gracie there and set the place on fire just to hurt her?! I swear, if you lay a finger on her, I won’t forgive you!"

"Frederick, are you really going to believe everything she says? If I wanted to hurt her, would I be stupid enough to trap myself in here too?"

But he didn’t want to hear it. He dismissed my words like they meant nothing.

The fire was growing. Giselle had already climbed halfway out the window. One slip and she would fall.

Suddenly, the firefighters burst through the door, blasting the flames with high-pressure hoses. A path opened through the smoke.

Frederick followed them in.

He froze when he saw Giselle dangling halfway out the window, eyes wide with terror.

At that moment, I was right beside her.

To escape the thick smoke, Giselle clung to my arm, her entire body leaning desperately outward. The smoke was thick, and she was using me to keep from falling.

The moment she saw Frederick, her eyes welled with tears.

“Frederick, you’re finally here! I was so scared—I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Don’t be afraid, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He stepped toward her—but just as he reached us, Giselle shoved me with all her strength.

I crashed to the floor, my arm landing on a piece of charred wood, searing pain shooting through me as the burned edge scorched my skin.

Giselle tilted backward toward the open window.

Everyone gasped.

Luckily, Frederick lunged just in time and pulled her into his arms.

“I-I was so scared... If you hadn’t caught me... I would’ve died,” she sobbed, trembling in his embrace.

“You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Then he looked at me—his eyes full of cold fury.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.

“Gracie! Why did you push her? Do you realize if I hadn’t caught her, she and our baby could have died? How could you be so cruel?!”

The pain in my burned arm was blinding, but it couldn’t compare to the pain in my heart.

He held Giselle protectively in his arms while looking at me like I was nothing but trash.

“Don’t blame Gracie,” Giselle whimpered. “Maybe... maybe it was an accident...”

“Accident?!” Frederick scoffed. “There are so many people here—are they all blind? Gracie, you tricked Gracie into coming here, started a fire, and tried to push her from a window! You’re really despicable. People like you belong in prison to reflect on what you’ve done!”