I stared at Randolph, almost certain I'd misheard him.

But there was no guilt on his face. Only disappointment. In me.

"Crystal, I thought you were different from all those petty, scheming women. Above using dirty tricks to bully people. But I was wrong."

My throat clenched. It felt like someone was carving my chest open, one slow cut at a time.

"Since you're the one who drugged her," Randolph said, refusing to meet my eyes, "then the consequences are yours to bear."

Nanette nestled obediently against his chest, but her gaze found mine over his shoulder, bright with undisguised triumph.

A violent cramp tore through my lower abdomen, something twisting and churning inside me. The pain nearly buckled my knees.

I gritted through it, my voice cold and cutting. "Randolph, where is your brain? I drugged Nanette and then sent my own boyfriend to be the cure?"

"And when you could've just called a private doctor..."

Before I could finish, Nanette let out a soft whimper and pressed her hand to her wound.

"Randolph, just go. Don't worry about me. I'm afraid if you actually help me, my sister will hate me even more."

"And don't blame her, either. She just loves you too much. That's why she did something like this."

I'd already decided to let go of Randolph, but I still couldn't stand there and let Nanette spew lies that dragged my character through the mud.

"Nanette, have you no shame? You drugged yourself, then threw yourself at my boyfriend and pointed the finger at me. Were you raised by wolves?"

Crack.

The words barely left my mouth before Randolph stood and slapped me across the face.

The force whipped my head to the side. A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears.

"Crystal, Nanette never once said she wanted anything done to you, but you haven't stopped attacking her. Guess that's what happens when you grow up in an orphanage. Not an ounce of class."

"Since you love drugging people so much, tonight you're going to sit here and watch exactly what that costs."

Before I could react, he'd dragged me to a chair and bound me to it with strips of clothing.

As he pulled off his shirt, he left me with one last sentence: "You brought this on yourself. Don't blame me."

A bone-deep chill spread through me.

The entire night, I watched the man I'd loved for ten years sleep with another woman.

Panting. Wet kisses. The sounds circled my ears like a curse that wouldn't break.

And the whole time, my abdomen screamed with pain. Cold sweat soaked through every layer I wore.

I tried to call for help, but Randolph dismissed it as another ploy for attention. Moments later, Nanette's moans grew louder, drowning me out.

At first I still cried. Then the tears ran dry, and all that was left was numbness.

Every image seared into my eyes was the same reminder: this is what happens when you love the wrong person.

The last shred of feeling I had left died that night.

The moaning lasted until dawn. Only then did Randolph finally untie me.

"Learned your lesson?"

He looked down at me from above.

When no answer came, he glanced down and saw my face drained white, my consciousness slipping.

Panic flickered across his features. He checked beneath me and found a pool of red soaking through.

He bent to scoop me up, ready to rush to the hospital, but Nanette's voice drifted from the bed.

"Randolph, you were too rough last night. I think I'm bleeding down there. Could you come take a look?"

"If not, you could just send one of the housekeepers. That's fine too."

Her voice was hoarse, fragile. She looked utterly pitiful.

Randolph hesitated. His resolve softened. It had been Nanette's first time, after all, and he hadn't exactly held back.

So I watched him set me down, watched him tell me to wait.

But I was in so much pain.

I forced myself upright, called a car on my own, and staggered toward the door one lurching step at a time.

"Where are you going, sis?"

Just as I reached the top of the stairs, Nanette rushed over and seized my wrist.

"I'm so sorry, sis. This is all my fault. I'm the reason you and Randolph never got to sign the marriage certificate."

She tilted her face up at me, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Hit me, yell at me, I'll take it all. Just please don't break up with him over me..."

My head swam. A low buzz filled my ears.

"Let go." My throat was so dry it burned.

Nanette only gripped tighter, stepping closer, as if terrified I'd slip away.

"Please don't leave, sis. Randolph really does love you. He's just soft-hearted. What he feels for me is only habit. Don't misunderstand him..."

Love me?

The pain in my abdomen clenched like a fist. My legs nearly gave out, and a wave of nausea surged up with the irritation.

"Enough." My voice went cold. "Nanette, who exactly are you performing for?"

I yanked my hand back.

I barely used any force.

But in that instant, her body went limp and she tipped backward.

"Ah!"

Her shriek split the stairwell open.

I froze for a fraction of a second, then reached for her on instinct.

My fingertips grazed her sleeve, but she was already falling.

Weightlessness seized me.

Nanette's grip dragged me down with her.

The world flipped.

My back, my elbows, my knees slammed against the hard edges of each step, over and over.

Thud.

I hit the ground floor hard. My vision went black.

Then I heard footsteps, fast and frantic.

"Crys!"

Randolph's voice.

He came tearing down the stairs, steps uneven, more rattled than I'd ever heard him.

Through blurred vision, I saw him reach me.

But before he could get close, a hand caught his sleeve.

"Randolph..."

Nanette's voice, thin as thread.

"I lost my footing. It wasn't her fault. She grabbed for me and got pulled down too..."

"Go check on her first. She fell harder than I did..."

Randolph's movement stuttered.

He'd been about to come to me. But that pause was all it took. His eyes landed on Nanette's disheveled state instead.

Her collar had shifted, exposing the marks he'd left on her skin the night before.

His throat bobbed.

I thought, even if Randolph had no conscience at all, he'd at least check on me first. I was pregnant. I'd just tumbled down an entire flight of stairs.

He didn't.

I watched him gather Nanette into his arms.

Careful. Gentle. Like she was something precious and breakable.

6

"Let me take you to the hospital first. You're already fragile, and yesterday I... nothing else can happen to you."

Randolph didn't look at me once when he said it.

Nanette clutched the front of his shirt, her voice small. "But what about Crystal..."

"I'll come back for her."

He carried Nanette out without looking back.

His footsteps faded down the hall.

I was the only one left, lying on the cold floor.

I stared at the ceiling. My vision blurred, slowly, then all at once.

I laughed.

It came out hoarse and hollow.

My hand found my stomach. My fingers were shaking.

"Baby, did you see that?"

"Your daddy doesn't love Mommy. He doesn't love you either."

"How could Mommy... ever dare bring you into this world."

I don't know how long I lay there before my phone buzzed beside me.

The ride I'd called earlier had arrived.

I pressed my palms against the floor and pushed myself up, inch by inch. My body felt like it had been taken apart and put back wrong. Every movement sent tremors of pain through me.

But I stood up.

One step at a time, I walked toward the door.

Blood ran down my legs. I couldn't feel it anymore.

By the time they wheeled me into the operating room, my consciousness was already slipping.

Voices drifted in and out.

"Miscarriage... she needs a D&C..."

"Where's her family?"

"There's no family."

I don't know how much time passed before I opened my eyes again.

Before I could figure out where I was, the door slammed open.

"Crystal!"

Randolph stormed in, breathing hard.

He crossed the room in three strides and seized my wrist. His grip was so tight I thought the bones would splinter.

"You have the nerve to just lie here?"

His voice was low, but the fury in it was unmistakable.

"Nanette's spleen ruptured because you pushed her. Massive hemorrhaging. She's in emergency surgery right now. You're the same blood type. You're giving her a transfusion."

The fog in my head cleared instantly.

What he was accusing me of was so absurd that for a moment I forgot the pain entirely.

"I didn't push her." I wrenched my hand free, my voice raw and cold. "Randolph, have you lost your mind? You want me to give blood? I just had a—"

"You're still denying it!"

He cut me off, his eyes darkening with something vicious.

"I saw it with my own eyes. You pushed her down those stairs. Nanette is the one covering for you because she's too kind, afraid I'd blame you. She protected you, and you won't even save her life?!"

I watched him construct his own version of reality and convict me with it. It was so ridiculous I almost laughed. "Who asked for her kindness? I didn't do it, and I didn't do it!"

"If something happens to Nanette, how are you going to keep your place in the Fox family? Is that what you want? For them to disown you? Would that make you happy?"

He wasn't listening to a single word I said. His brow furrowed like he genuinely believed he was looking out for me.

"You and Nanette have the same blood type," he said. "You're donating. Consider it your apology."

Something lodged in my chest. I couldn't breathe.

"I told you. I didn't push her." Every word was deliberate. "And I just—"

"Stop pretending to be sick." Randolph's frown deepened, his patience visibly fraying. "Crystal, when did you become like this? You won't own up to what you did, and now you're playing the victim?"

I lost every last shred of desire to communicate with him.

When someone has already decided you're guilty, nothing you say will ever be the right thing.

Randolph grabbed me and dragged me off the bed, hauling me toward Nanette's operating room.

A doctor stood by the entrance. The moment he saw Randolph, he hurried over.

"Draw her blood." Randolph didn't waste a single word.

The doctor glanced at me, hesitation flickering across his face. "But this young woman's complexion..."

"She's fine." Randolph cut him off. "Draw it."

I was pushed into a chair. My sleeve was rolled up. When the needle pierced the vein, the cold spread up my arm like ice water filling my veins.

The blood left me drop by drop.

I'd just had a miscarriage. I had no strength to fight back. All I could do was let my head fall against the chair and stare up at the white light overhead, watching the halo pulse and expand, pulse and expand.

My consciousness began to drift.

Randolph suddenly took my hand. His voice softened.

"Crys, as long as Nanette pulls through, everything that happened these past two days... we'll pretend none of it ever happened."

I didn't look at him.

"I know you have a problem with her. It's because she has feelings for me."

"But I've told you so many times. What I feel for Nanette is the bond of growing up together. She's no different from a little sister to me."

"My wife will only ever be you."

"Once you're feeling better, we'll register the marriage. I'll give you the grandest wedding."

"So, Crys, be good. Stop making trouble."

A sister he'd slept with and still called pure?

What if Nanette got pregnant with his child?

Still a sister then?

But those thoughts barely flickered through my mind.

They were gone almost as soon as they came.

None of it mattered anymore.

I was leaving.

Seven years of propping Randolph up, plus this blood I was giving now. That was more than enough to repay the debt of him pulling me out of the orphanage.

After this, whoever Randolph loved, married, or took to bed had nothing to do with me.

When the transfusion was over, I could barely stay on my feet.

My vision went black. I nearly collapsed right there on the floor.

But Randolph didn't notice. He was already gone, checking on Nanette.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers trembled as I sent my location to Isabel.

"Can you come get me?"

The reply came almost instantly.

"On my way."

I turned and walked back to my hospital room.

I left the miscarriage report on the bed.

All I took was my ID, my personal documents, and the broken watch that had belonged to the orphanage director.

One step at a time, I climbed to the hospital rooftop.

A private jet was already waiting.

The cabin door opened. A doctor Isabel had arranged stood inside and rushed over the moment she saw me, checking my vitals.

Clouds churned outside the window.

When I arrived at the private hospital in America and saw my new husband lying there in his coma, the first thing I did was hold our ring-bearing hands together, take a photo, and post it to social media with a caption:

"Taken."

From that moment on,

Randolph Delgado had nothing to do with me.