Those late nights when I took my child alone to the doctor, those long days I cried silently in the empty bridal chamber—meanwhile, he was off enjoying himself with someone else.

“Fine, I’ll leave.”

I stood still, forcing myself to calm down, but my voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the wind.

“I’ll stay away from my brother from now on.”

Charles’s voice cut through the air.

I didn’t know when he slipped away from his parents’ side, but suddenly he was standing in front of me, eyes locked on my face like he was trying to see through me.

“What did you just call me?”

Because of our status difference, my mother always tried to curry favor with her stepfather. I grew up watching her do it, and I followed suit, doing everything to please my stepbrother, Charles.

No matter how cold he acted, I believed I was the one who warmed his heart.

Everyone inside and outside Washington’s circle knew this: Charles loved me, his stepsister, the most.

Anyone who dared hurt me would pay a hundred times over.

I looked down at the white scar on my palm, clear and unforgiving.

I remembered the day I was cornered by school bullies in an alley. My palm was sliced by a dagger during the fight. That day, I almost died.

But then Charles appeared, sweat pouring down his forehead. Without a second thought, he charged into the fight, taking them on alone—ignoring his own injuries.

His left ear was permanently damaged that day.

When the doctor told him his hearing loss was irreversible, I couldn’t stop crying.

But he smiled, poked my nose, and said, “It’s worth it if you worship me forever.”

Now, all I felt was bitter disappointment.

I shook off the memories and forced myself to speak, “Brother.”

He sneered, eyes ice-cold. “I don’t have a sister like you.”

Sophie hurried between us, the wedding ring on her finger stabbing at my eyes.

“Grace, he had a head injury. His memory might be a bit confused. Don’t take it personally. How could he not remember you as his sister?”

“You’ve always been here. He loves you like a sister, right?”

I clenched my fists, voice steady despite the ache. “Alright, I understand.”

Turning away, I caught sight of my mother waiting by the side, a hot towel in hand, her eyes anxious.

“Sophie, drink some warm water and calm down. Don’t let your anger hurt you.”

The scene in front of me blended with a flood of memories—countless moments of flattery and forced smiles.

I suddenly felt utterly exhausted.

It was almost laughable.

I walked to Emily’s room and whispered, “Emily’s asleep now. I don’t want to wake her.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll move out tomorrow.”

I gently pushed open the door and lay down beside her.

She opened her eyes, sleepy and confused. “Mom, are you crying?”

Her small voice trembled as she asked, “Mom, does Daddy not want us anymore?”

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and covered my mouth.

But Emily hugged my neck tightly, her small voice fierce, “Mom, don’t cry. I still have Emily. Emily will always be with you.”

I held her close, voice breaking, “Mom loves you. Go to sleep, baby.”

But the next morning, Emily was drenched in sweat.

I touched her forehead—she had a high fever.

The doctor warned that with her weak heart, a fever could be dangerous.

I rushed her to the hospital.

As I was about to pay at the clinic, I saw Charles arrive, accompanied by Sophie.

In my hurry, I accidentally bumped into Sophie.

Without hesitation, Charles shoved me away. His palm hit me hard enough to stagger back.

“You knew Sophie was pregnant, and you wanted her to have a miscarriage?”

Pregnant? My eyes darted to Sophie’s abdomen.

When I was in agony in the delivery room, he never sent a single message.

But now, he stood protectively by Sophie’s side, eyes filled with a tension and concern I had never seen directed at me.

“Sophie, don’t be angry.” Sophie quickly grabbed his arm. When she turned, her eyes were full of apology. “Grace, he’s just too nervous right now. Don’t take it personally. By the way, why did you come to the hospital?”

“My daughter is sick.” My throat tightened, and my voice barely escaped between clenched teeth.

Charles sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why are you pretending?”

“Why would I joke about my child’s life?” I tightened my grip on the payment slip in my hand.

“Aren’t you a repeat offender?” His eyes were icy knives. “You used dirty tricks to force me into marriage.”

Sophie quickly stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “Sophie, stop.”

She turned to me with a fake smile. “I heard Emily’s birthday is next week. How about we celebrate it together? Maybe it’s time Emily officially acknowledges his ancestry.”

Because Charles' parents thought it shameful that I married Charles, almost no one knew about our wedding, and they refused to let us register our marriage.

To this day, Emily lives with me but has no official name or status.

This was the one thing I cared about most. I had raised it many times with the Shaw family, only to be met with silence.

Sophie took my arm gently. “When the time comes, we’ll register Emily’s household registration.”

I said nothing.

Charles glanced at me impatiently but reluctantly nodded at Sophie’s request.

I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard their whispered conversation.

“Sophie, I told you, Grace was your ex-wife and your stepsister. Please don’t treat her like this all the time. Just for my sake, okay?” Sophie’s voice was soft.

Charles sneered. “She’s always been good at playing the victim. Do you really believe her?”

I didn’t stay any longer. I hurried back to the clinic.

The doctor treating Emily was an old friend of Charles’s.

He noticed my frown. “Emily’s heart still needs surgery. You have to be prepared mentally.”

“When Charles came back, I told him there was a suitable heart match. Did he tell you?”

Have you told him?!

I was stunned. “When?”

He thought for a moment. “About three years ago.”

Three years ago.

Suddenly I remembered—we had reached out to each other then.

When I asked about Emily’s condition, his voice was indifferent, like it wasn’t his problem.

“I checked. No suitable treatment for now. We can only manage it conservatively.”

Then he hung up.

It felt like a lightning strike.

There was a suitable heart match all along. Why did he hide it? Why did he let Emily suffer for three long years?

I closed my eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks.

He didn’t just not care about me—he disregarded Emily’s life.

My phone suddenly rang. It was Charles.

I answered, heart heavy with disappointment and hate. His voice came through cold and commanding.

“Hurry home and pack your things. Don’t think you can get away with anything just because I agreed to let Emily enter the family registry.”

“Emily is my daughter. She carries Shaw's blood, so she deserves an identity. But you? You have nothing to do with this family. Don’t covet what isn’t yours.”

“If you know what’s good for you, be grateful and come back now. Pack up your things in your room and move to the backyard!”

I listened to his harsh words and thought of all the pain Emily had suffered these past three years.

I couldn’t help but sneer silently.

The me who once begged him so desperately now seemed utterly ridiculous.