I was the true heiress.

She was the housekeeper's daughter.

She stole my life, including my fiancé.

I was two months pregnant when she and I were kidnapped together.

My husband rushed to our rescue.

I crawled toward him. "Save me... save our child."

He shot me a look of disgust, then rushed her to the ambulance.

"Pregnant? Stop lying to me!"

"We're even now. My lawyers will send the divorce papers," he sneered.

The ambulance sped away.

But later, that same man would cry himself hoarse, screaming:

"I'm sorry, Elodie! I'll find who did this! I swear I'll find that bastard!"

————————

1

I never imagined I would die in such a filthy, humiliating way.

The kidnappers tore my dress, rubbing gravel against my skin as if I were a dirty rag.

They threw me onto the cold sands of Jones Beach on Long Island.

The salty, rank waves assaulted me again and again, washing over my broken body.

Warm blood gushed from between my legs, staining the frigid seawater a murky red.

Gideon Caldwell.

My husband.

His mind, his heart—they were filled with only one person: Freya Carrington.

He didn't spare me a single thought.

By the time I was brought to the Caldwell Medical Center, I had nearly bled out. My legs were mangled, twisted like a broken Barbie doll.

The doctors and nurses stared, their eyes wide with the kind of terror reserved for seeing a ghost.

Faced with my ravaged body, they didn't even know where to begin.

A nurse whispered, "Should we call Dr. Caldwell? He's the top neurosurgeon. Maybe..."

Another immediately cut her off. "Dr. Caldwell is busy saving the woman he loves. You think he'd leave her for some stranger?"

I was not a stranger.

I was his wife, Elodie Carrington.

Resentment, like iron chains, locked my soul in place. I floated in mid-air, unable to leave.

I gazed down at my own unrecognizable flesh, numb.

A force suddenly pulled me away.

Suddenly, I was standing in an emergency room, watching Gideon and Freya.

Freya lay on a hospital bed while Gideon, dressed in sterile scrubs, used those same hands, capable of repairing the most delicate nerves, to carefully stitch a trivial wound for her.

It was just a scratch.

And yet, he treated it like a life-or-death crisis.

I could see the raw panic and lingering fear in his eyes.

"Freya, don't be afraid. I promise, your skin will be as smooth as it was before," he soothed her, his voice softer than I had ever heard it.

He bandaged the wound himself before having her moved to a VIP suite.

When they were alone in the room, he leaned down and placed a reverent kiss on her forehead.

A nurse came in to disinfect Freya's wound, stealing glances at Gideon as she worked.

"It's so unfair. Both of you were kidnapped, but Miss Carrington, you were lucky enough to have Dr. Caldwell's care and survive. But that other woman who was brought in around the same time—"

"Don't mention the kidnapping in front of Freya," Gideon interrupted her sharply. "It will affect her recovery."

He knew that other woman was me.

But he didn't want to hear it.

I couldn't help but sneer. It was almost comical how protective Gideon was of Freya. He was afraid a scar would ruin her career as an influencer with millions of followers, afraid the kidnapping would leave her with psychological trauma.

But what I had endured? He couldn't have cared less.

Which, of course, made perfect sense.

He hated me.

When Gideon found us on the beach with the ransom money, I used my last ounce of strength to crawl toward him, begging him to save me, to save the child in my belly.

He gave me nothing but a look of disgust.

Then, with a sliver of pity that felt more like charity, he dialed 911.

"Elodie Carrington, your soul is rotten to the core. To save your own life, you'd stoop to a cheap lie like pregnancy. It's sickening. Freya was kidnapped because you invited her to that party in the Hamptons. I will never forgive you."

"The debt for saving my life? Consider it repaid. Come to the hospital later to sign the divorce papers."

With that, Gideon scooped the terrified, sobbing Freya into his arms and onto the first ambulance, insisting they take her to the city hospital first.

The moment the ambulance doors closed, I was still desperately trying to crawl ashore.

The Long Island wind cut at me like a knife. Blood continued to pour from my body.

The rising tide could swallow me whole at any moment.

Anyone with a shred of a heart would have helped me, seeing the state I was in.

My broken limbs spasmed with pain, tears mixing with sand on my face. A sharp cramp tore through my abdomen, and the seawater beneath me turned a deep crimson.

My child.

I'm so sorry.

It was my own foolish obsession, wasn't it? Insisting on loving a man who would never be mine.

Now, you won't even have the chance to open your eyes and see this world.

The moment Freya opened her eyes, she called out for Gideon in a panic. She wouldn't let any nurse near her, just clung tightly to Gideon's sleeve, crying ceaselessly.

Gideon held her gently, like a man who had just recovered a long-lost treasure. His hands trembled slightly as he stroked her back again and again.

"'You have no idea how worried I was,' he murmured. 'I was so afraid... terrified of losing you again.'"

Freya's face was pale, her eyes filled with fear. She clutched his shirt and said in a trembling voice, "Gideon, I thought I was going to die, that I'd never see you again. If it wasn't for you..."

She looked up, her tear-filled eyes gazing at him.

"Gideon, I was always afraid my existence would cause trouble between you and Elodie, so I kept pushing you away. But after all this... I'm never pushing you away again."

Sobbing, Freya buried her head in his chest and continued, "I don't blame Elodie at all. If she hadn't invited me to the Hamptons that day, I wouldn't have been kidnapped, and I wouldn't have found the courage... to face my feelings for you."

Gideon's expression darkened, but he suppressed his rage. "Freya, don't say that name again. I promise, I will get justice for you. This time, no one can keep us apart."

I floated there, a bitter smile touching my lips.

The real reason Gideon and Freya could never be together wasn't me. It was Freya.

They had grown up together, childhood sweethearts who should have been a perfect match.

It wasn't until I was sixteen that I learned I was the true daughter of the Carrington family, New York real estate tycoons.

The family's housekeeper, who was Freya's mother, had switched us at birth.

When I finally returned to the Carrington home, Mom and Dad couldn't bear to send Freya away; they'd raised her for sixteen years.

So, I became the Carrington family heiress, and Freya became the adopted daughter.

At my first birthday party after returning home, Mom and Dad invited Gideon and his prominent Caldwell family.

Gideon's mother, Denise Caldwell, showered me with praise. She complimented my elegance and beauty, clasping my hand warmly as we chatted.

I never expected this to provoke Freya's hostility.

While the adults were in the living room, Freya approached me with a pot of freshly brewed, scalding coffee.

She stared at me, a sly smile playing on her lips. "If I get burned by this coffee because of you, do you think anyone will be in the mood to celebrate your birthday?"

Before I could react, Freya tilted her wrist, about to pour the coffee onto her own hand.

My mind went blank, and my body instinctively lunged forward to stop her.

As a result, the entire pot of boiling water cascaded down my arm.

A searing pain spread instantly, and I couldn't help but scream. My skin blistered and turned red, the burn both ugly and agonizing.

Denise was the first to rush in, yanking me toward the sink and thrusting my arm under cold water.

Mom and Dad demanded to know what happened.

Freya lowered her head and whimpered, "I was just trying to pour coffee for everyone, but Elodie..."

Before she could finish her vague explanation, Mom and Dad were already looking at me with disappointment.

Ever since I had come home, Freya had repeatedly framed me. And every time, they believed her lies.

It was my first birthday back home, and I didn't want to ruin it.

Despite the burning pain in my arm, I held back my tears and apologized. "I'm so sorry," I choked out. "It was an accident."

Denise shot a quick glance at Freya, then her gaze lingered on me thoughtfully. "Elodie," she said finally, "you're a good girl."

Denise's words made Freya's face turn white, and her crying stopped abruptly.

Gideon's father, Magnus Caldwell, looked at Freya with a complicated expression.

My parents, both shrewd business people, quickly understood the meaning behind Denise's words.

As the Caldwells were preparing to leave, Dad proposed an engagement between Gideon and me. Denise nodded in agreement.

Although Gideon was filled with obvious disdain for me, he uncharacteristically did not refuse.

I told my parents I didn't want to be engaged, but they insisted it was the only real value I could bring to the family.

Over time, I learned to love Gideon.

I was always so careful around him, hoping my devotion would one day melt his frozen heart.

However, seeing him now, holding Freya so preciously, like the most fragile treasure, my very soul was torn apart.

Right now, Gideon was at Freya's bedside, meticulously designing a diet for her to ensure her wound would heal perfectly, without leaving a single scar.

Then, he had his assistant bring a tube of gel.

As I stared at the packaging of that ointment, a bitter taste rose in my throat, choking me.

It was a bio-regeneration gel developed by Caldwell Labs, not available to the public.

Years ago, after my arm was burned, the scar never fully faded.

I had once pleaded with Gideon to give me a tube of that gel.

He merely glanced at the scar on my arm and replied coldly, "You're not an influencer who relies on her looks. A little scar on your arm is meaningless."

"Besides, doesn't that scar serve as a perfect reminder of the huge lie you told to frame Freya? Keep it. Let it be a constant reminder of the despicable games you played to take her place and marry me."

"That scar is the mark of your viciousness."

Gideon seemed to have finally remembered that I was also a patient in this hospital.

He was now coming to find me, ready to shove the divorce papers in my face.

Too bad for him, I was in no condition to sign.

As Gideon walked down the hallway, two nurses passed by, chatting.

One clutched her chest, her face pale. "You wouldn't believe how badly that woman was injured—multiple fractures, a ruptured uterus, she was bleeding profusely."

"She was over two months pregnant, but she'd lost almost all her blood by the time she was brought in. She was barely hanging on."

"My God, that's horrible. Can you imagine how heartbroken her family must be?"

"I know. If she had been brought in sooner, she might have been saved. Even being paralyzed would be a mercy compared to this."

Gideon frowned upon hearing their conversation.

I drifted closer to him, my voice a low, mocking whisper in his mind. "Gideon, do you realize they're talking about me? Why don't you go take a look? See for yourself how pathetic I am."

A dark satisfaction bloomed within me. I wanted him to witness the wreckage of my body.

Would he shatter with guilt when he realized that because the hospital's resources were focused on Freya's paper-cut injury, my child and I had lost our only chance of survival?

Gideon walked over to the nurses' station, intending to ask where I was.

One of the nurses who had just passed by happened to be on duty.

When Gideon inquired about the woman who had been brought in around the same time as Freya, the nurse's eyes held a hint of suspicion. "Dr. Caldwell, are you her family?"

Gideon paused, then snapped irritably, "No, I don't know her. I'm asking for a friend."

I stared blankly at Gideon's tightly furrowed brow.

He must have thought I was stalling, trying to avoid signing the divorce papers.

We had been married for two years, and even though this hospital belonged to the Caldwell family, he had never allowed me to come here.

Every time I felt unwell, even after I discovered I was pregnant, I had to go to another hospital.

The nurse nodded sympathetically. "She didn't make it. Her injuries were too severe. We were hoping you could help, but..."