I fled to the hotel restroom, hoping to find a quiet place to catch my breath.

I suddenly heard the sound of muffled moans coming from inside.

I looked up to see Simon and Fiona. He had her pinned against the sink, kissing her fiercely. Their faces were flushed, breaths ragged.

I heard Simon's husky voice. "Baby, thank God you're okay. You really scared me."

"I'm fine, Simon. It's my fault for dragging you to that concert and making you miss the wedding. That's why Ivy is so upset…"

"She still shouldn't have pushed you. You're already two months pregnant."

My mind exploded with a deafening buzz.

So, Fiona had been pregnant all along. There was no IVF appointment that day at all.

Simon kissed her again. She resisted softly, pushing against his chest. "Even after everything between us, you still won't call off the engagement?"

Simon went quiet. After a long pause, he kissed her again. "Didn't we agree not to talk about this? I'm destined to marry Ivy. But even after we're married, I'll still spoil you and our baby."

Fiona lit up instantly. Soon, the restroom filled with the sound of their frantic movements and breathless gasps.

Shaking, I pulled out my phone and secretly recorded it all before stumbling out.

So, the stepsister guise was a lie. Her trauma and fear of men were lies. The IVF was a lie.

Simon had been lying to me all along. He had been cheating on me with Fiona from the start. And he still wanted to keep me too.

My palm, cut earlier by broken glass, was now bleeding freely. The pain stung like the ache in my heart.

Night had fallen. I slipped out the back door of the hotel like a deserter, only to be suddenly blocked by several looming figures. It was the same group of men who had tried hitting on me earlier.

I instinctively backed away, but they had already blocked my escape path.

"You got us thrown out. Now, you think you can escape?" As one sneered, the others came forward, grabbing my arms and legs.

"No! Somebody, help me!" I thrashed and screamed, desperate for someone to notice.

Right at that moment, I heard a familiar voice come from nearby. "Something's happening over there. Should we check it out?"

Hope flickered in my heart. It was Simon's voice.

I screamed louder. "Simon!"

But the men covered my mouth and pinned me to the ground.

"That sounded like Ivy," Simon said as he looked toward my direction.

Then, Fiona's voice rang out. "Simon, my stomach hurts! Let's go home."

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" His tone turned frantic. What followed was the sound of their footsteps fading away.

I wanted to scream that I was here, but the men had an iron grip on me. I couldn't break free.

As Simon and Fiona walked further away, tears of despair streamed down my face.

Suddenly, a furious shout split the night. "Let her go!"

A group of bodyguards rushed forward, swiftly taking down the men who had attacked me. Someone helped me up from the ground and gently draped a coat over my shoulders.

In the darkness, it took me a while to recognize him. It was Lambert, my father's most trusted assistant.

"Ms. Morris, are you alright?"

Tears streaked my face as I shook my head. I must've looked absolutely pitiful.

Lambert's eyes turned cold as he glanced at the men. "How dare you lay a hand on the Morris family's daughter? You must have a death wish."

He then ordered the guards, "Take them back to the mansion. They need to learn the consequences of their actions."

At once, the men fell to their knees, begging for mercy. "No, please! Let us go. We were paid to do it!"

"Who sent you?"

"It was Ms. Hepworth!"

My fists clenched instinctively. It was Fiona again. Why on earth was she so set on targeting me?

Lambert gave an instruction to one of the bodyguards beside him, who then immediately hurried off.

"Even so, you won't escape punishment.

"Take them all away. Let Mr. Morris decide their punishment."

Amidst their cries and pleas, Lambert guided me toward another car.

Inside, the family doctor was already waiting. He tended to my wounds, carefully extracting the glass shards one by one from my palm. I winced in pain.

"Ms. Morris, where should I take you now?"

I closed my eyes and said, "Back to the Hepworth residence."

Lambert's hands on the wheel froze. "After what just happened, why do you still want to go back there?"

"No." I shook my head, my eyes steady with conviction. "I'm only going back to pack. Tonight, I'm leaving for good."

Back at the Hepworth residence, I took one final glance at the house that had been my home for years.

Simon and I had built this life together. Starting in a shabby little rental apartment to this beautiful, luxurious villa, we had always stuck by each other's sides.

I never imagined that one day, our love would come to such an end after so long.

By the time I finished packing, the bedroom was stripped bare. The only thing I left behind was a formal notice of broken engagement on the nightstand.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I slipped away into the night, heading straight for the airport.

…

It was late by the time Simon returned, carrying a drunken Fiona into the villa. She tried clinging to him, trying to initiate intimacy, but for some reason, he just wasn't in the mood.

What he had heard earlier really did sound like my voice screaming for help. And when he walked through the door just now, I wasn't there waiting for him in the living room. This left him feeling unsettled.

"I'm sorry, Fiona. Get some rest." He pushed her hands off and anxiously hurried off.

"Ivy, are you asleep?" He knocked on my bedroom door but was met with silence.

"Ivy?"

Again, there was no response.

Thinking I was still sulking, Simon said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper and pushed you earlier. Tomorrow, I'll apologize to you properly."

With that, he retreated to his own room. But that night, he was haunted by his dreams.

"Ivy, don't leave me!"

Simon jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. His face was pale, his heart pounding. Without thinking, he ran straight into my room.

When he pushed the door open, he was met with an empty room. All of my belongings were gone. Only a single document lay on the nightstand.

Simon's hands trembled as he picked up the document. It was a notice of broken engagement.

The words on it were cold, offering no explanation and no room for negotiation. It simply declared that the engagement between the Morris and Hepworth families was officially broken.

And beneath the notice was an envelope.

Thinking that it was a handwritten letter from me, Simon was filled with hope that there was still a chance to salvage things. He quickly opened the envelope.

But inside were only photographs. Photo after photo of him and Fiona, proof of their affair.

Simon's fingers crushed the papers and photographs in his grip.

"She knows. She knows everything…"