Just as dawn broke, the door was struck violently, and Liam’s voice—void of warmth—cut through the crack and pierced Clara’s eardrums. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Clara hadn’t slept all night. The dark circles beneath her eyes spread like ink stains, exhaustion seeping from every joint in her body—the bruised ache on her neck from last night lingered, and the revolting scene in her son’s room replayed over and over in her mind, suffocating even when she blinked. She rose slowly, pulling on clothes without thought. The woman in the mirror looked ghostly pale, her eyes empty like a soulless puppet—none of the brilliance of the genius scientist she once was remained.

Liam was already waiting downstairs. When he saw her emerge, his brows knitted, as if irritated by her pace, though he said nothing—he simply shoved her into the car.

The car stopped beside a beach overlooking the sea, where a top-tier luxury couture fashion show was about to begin. A snow-white carpet stretched along the sand, the distant ocean shimmering blue, perfume and diamonds glimmering as the elite gathered—every corner dripping extravagance and splendor. Yet to Clara, it all felt blurred under a sheet of fog—dull, meaningless. Her heart had been buried with Noah; all worldly glamour was nothing more than a blinding mockery.

Until the stage lights lit up and the first model stepped onto the runway—Clara’s gaze froze, her blood seemingly halting mid-flow.

That moon-white floor-length gown, embroidered with scattered starlight across the hem and trimmed with pearls along the neckline—was unmistakably the sketch she had drawn casually in her yellowed notebook during her school days.

Memory rushed in like a flood. Back then, she had just entered university—studying genetics while harboring a budding fascination for fashion design. Late at night, she sketched at her desk, then rushed excitedly to Liam’s rented apartment, tiptoeing to hold the notebook up to his face, her eyes gleaming like stars. “Liam, look! Someday I want my own fashion show—wearing clothes I designed—standing in the brightest place!”

Back then, Liam wasn’t the cold man he was now. He would ruffle her hair gently and pull her into his arms, his voice tender and lingering. “Alright. When our Clara returns with her achievements, I’ll give you the grandest fashion show—let the world see your talent.”

Those vows still echoed faintly, but the man before her was no longer the one who once promised forever.

Clara stared blankly at the runway as one familiar design after another appeared—there was the floral dress she’d doodled, the sharp tailored suit she once imagined, and even a little formal dress for children—one she had dreamed of her future daughter wearing—now worn by strangers under the spotlight, glowing brilliantly.

She suddenly turned, looking at Liam with bewilderment and an unconscious flicker of fragile hope she didn't even realize she still held. He remembered? He actually remembered her dream from youth?

Liam seemed to notice her gaze. He cleared his throat awkwardly and quickly turned his face away, his voice iced with frost. “Don’t overthink. Know your place.”

His words were a bucket of cold water dousing the flicker of hope. Of course—why would he suddenly care? A momentary whim, nothing more.

“Pick one to wear.” Liam’s voice held no emotion, as if commanding a servant unworthy of attention.

Clara lowered her lashes, concealing her disappointment, and pointed at the simplest white dress. She had no desire to choose; to her, anything she wore was just another tool for Liam’s convenience.

“Go change.” Liam ordered without room for protest.

Clara frowned, confusion mounting, but she didn’t ask. She took the dress into the fitting room, her fingertips brushing the familiar fabric—excitement and hope she once felt turning into heavy bitterness now.

When she stepped out wearing her own design, poised again in the center of the show, fireworks suddenly exploded across the sky above the sea, painting the night in dazzling colors. Then several performers dressed as mermaids emerged from the water, carrying flower wreaths and serenading her with a birthday song.

“Happy birthday…” Their soft voices mingled with ocean waves, and Clara’s entire body stiffened.

So—today was her birthday.

She had long forgotten it. Ever since Noah passed, time existed only as pain and torment—birthdays, holidays, days once worth celebrating had all lost meaning.

Emotions crashed into her—shock, confusion, and a bittersweet sting she couldn’t name. She bit her lip unconsciously until blood filled her mouth, snapping her back. Did they think this shallow imitation of warmth could make her forget her son’s death, forget Liam’s betrayal and cruelty?

After the fashion show, Liam brought her directly to a nearby private clubhouse. When the heavy wooden doors opened, the room was filled with men—middle-aged, eyes clouded, their gazes assessing her like merchandise.

Liam, expressionless, nudged her forward slightly, speaking in a casual tone—as if relaying an insignificant task. “This dress suits you. Entertain the guests and drink with them. They’re all business elites. Make sure they attend Vanessa’s conference.”

Clara felt as though thunder struck her, her blood turning ice. So this was his real purpose.

The fashion show, the birthday song—all a carefully laid trap. He remembered her sketches, remembered her birthday—not out of sentiment—but to exploit her, to curry favor for Vanessa’s event.

Clara let out a faint, mocking breath, her eyes filled with despair and irony. “I’m not well. I can’t drink.” After donating her spleen and enduring the loss of her son, her body had never recovered—alcohol was forbidden.

“You don’t have the right to refuse.” Liam dismissed her words entirely, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into the private room, his grip so tight it felt like her bones might snap.

The moment they entered, every man’s gaze latched onto her—sticky, crawling like insects across her skin. Disgust rolled through her stomach.

With Liam present, they held back at first—only throwing occasional crude comments, nothing overt. Clara sat rigid, hands gripping her dress, wanting only to escape this nauseating place.

Just then, Liam’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression changed immediately. He answered without hesitation.

Vanessa’s voice came through with a weak sob, delicate and pitiful. “Liam, my stomach hurts… I don’t feel well…”

“Wait—I’m coming right now!” Liam’s voice brimmed with panic and urgency—a stark contrast to how cold he had been with Clara moments ago.

He hung up and stood to leave, tossing a careless parting remark over his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”

Clara’s heart sank, dread surging through her. She instinctively rose to leave as well—but the moment Liam exited, the men in the room broke loose like beasts freed from chains, surrounding her instantly.

A heavyset man pushed her back into her seat, while another, crew-cut and smirking, sat beside her—his greasy hand sliding shamelessly onto her thigh.

“Let go of me!” Clara’s whole body went rigid as she struggled violently to stand up.

But how could her strength compare to these men? A man in a black suit yanked her straight into his arms, his rough palm pressing down on her shoulder, pinning her in place.

“Pretty thing, what are you pretending to be shy for?” He leaned in close to her ear, his breath reeking heavily of alcohol. “Liam’s gone. Isn’t this his way of sending you up to us?”

“Exactly. Be smart, behave yourself, and we’ll treat you real nice.” Another man rubbed his hands together, his gaze roaming greedily over her body. “Otherwise, don’t blame us for getting rough.”

Clara felt all hope die. She stared at the door blocked by their bodies, felt the foreign hands on her, and cried out desperately toward the entrance. “Don’t come any closer!”

But her resistance only drew laughter from them. Her hands shaking, she pulled out her phone; her fingers were so cold she could barely hold it steady as she dialed Liam’s number.

The call rang over and over, but no one picked up.

She called again and again. Just as terror was about to swallow her whole, the line finally connected.

“What now!” Liam’s voice was thick with impatience, and in the background she could faintly hear Vanessa’s weak sobs.

“Come back! Liam, you have to come back!” Clara screamed, her voice breaking, full of desperate pleading and tears.

“I told you I’d be back in a bit!” Liam’s tone grew even more irritable. “I’m busy right now. I don’t have time for you!”

“Handle it yourself. You’re useless!”

With a sharp “click,” the call ended.

Clara stood frozen, still holding the phone. The room echoed with crude laughter; hands groped her more boldly, and the only person she could call for help had just called her worthless and abandoned her.

Her heart died completely.

The men, emboldened by Liam’s reaction, grew even more unrestrained. One man reached out and squeezed her chest, while another yanked open the collar of her dress, exposing a swath of pale skin.

“Ah!” Clara let out a piercing scream, fear and humiliation flooding her like a tidal wave.

She looked around wildly, her gaze landing on the window on the other side of the private room. Outside was a pitch-black night sky, and below, a steady stream of cars on the road.

Noah, Mommy’s coming to be with you.

Tears streamed down her face; that single thought filled her mind. Better to die than be defiled here—better to go below and see her precious boy.

With death in her heart, Clara suddenly shoved the man in front of her away and, using every bit of strength she had, bolted toward the window and jumped without hesitation.

When she woke again, dizziness crashed over her like a wave, her temples throbbing, followed by a violent nausea roiling in her stomach. Clara instinctively curled up, every movement sending bone-deep pain tearing through her, as if she’d been shattered and clumsily pieced back together.

She slowly forced open her heavy eyelids. In the blurred view, a doctor in a white coat stood beside her bed, a look of reproach and pity in his eyes. “Clara, you’re lucky to be alive. You landed on a car, which helped absorb the impact. A passerby called an ambulance in time. If they’d been even a little later, we wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

Clara parted her cracked lips; her throat felt scraped raw, her voice hoarse and barely audible. “Doctor… thank you.”

The doctor shook his head, his tone complicated. “You’re so young. What could be so bad that you’d rather die? Anyway, we’ll contact your family to handle the admission procedures.”

On the bedside table lay her phone, which had fallen from the building with her. It was shattered almost beyond recognition—the screen splintered like a spiderweb, the body dented and warped—lying there quietly like discarded trash. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Clara slowly shifted, reaching out. Her fingertips brushed the cold surface and she realized it could still turn on—the cracked screen flickered to life, but there were no missed calls, no messages, nothing. Clean, as if no one had ever thought of her.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. Using the wall for support, she slowly got to her feet, every step like walking on blades, staggering as she made her way toward the payment desk.

Just as she reached the doorway, the scene in the hallway made her freeze.

Liam was holding Vanessa, their posture intimate enough to sting her eyes. He lowered his head to look at Vanessa’s still-flat belly, his gaze so tender it seemed it might drip, his fingers gently brushing over it as he murmured something soft and careful. That tenderness had once belonged only to Clara; now it was wholly given to another woman.

Clara drew a deep breath. The dull ache in her chest and the ache in her heart tangled together, almost cutting off her air.

Liam soon noticed her too. The tenderness vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by deep disgust and irritation, his brows knitting into a hard line. “What are you doing here? Trying to pull some stunt again?”

“The people at that dinner haven’t left, have they? Do you realize how important they are for Vanessa’s conference? Get back there and entertain them!” His gaze skimmed over her pale, haggard face without a trace of concern—only cold urgency. “Vanessa’s sick from morning sickness. I don’t have time to deal with you.”

Clara opened her mouth, wanting to tell him she had just crawled back from the brink of death, wanting to tell him how much her body hurt. But before she could speak, a nurse’s voice called from behind her. “Who’s here for Vanessa? Please come sign for the prenatal vitamins.”

Liam immediately let go of Vanessa and hurried toward the nurse, his steps quick, as if a moment’s delay might cause Vanessa to suffer.

Once he was gone, Vanessa cupped her belly and slowly walked up to Clara, looking down at her from above, her eyes full of pride and provocation. “Clara, how have you been lately?”

Disgust surged in Clara’s eyes. She spat out each word, cold and clear. “Get lost.”

“Get lost?” Vanessa gave a soft laugh, then suddenly stepped forward to block her path, her hands clamping onto Clara’s collar so hard the fabric nearly tore. “If you’d obediently handed over the money back then, if you’d obediently given up your place as Liam’s wife, I wouldn’t have needed to work this hard to steal your man.”

“I used to be too kind to you—thought letting you live was no big deal.” She leaned in close to Clara’s ear, her voice venomous like a snake. “But I’ve changed my mind. I want everything you have—your man, your reputation, your research, and every bit of happiness you ever owned.”

Before the words had fully faded, Vanessa suddenly exerted all her strength and slammed Clara hard against the wall behind her.

With a heavy *thud*, Clara’s back collided with the solid surface. Her already battered body couldn’t withstand it; pain shot through her like an electric shock, leaving her almost unable to breathe.

Just then, Liam came around the corner holding the vitamins. Panic flashed in Vanessa’s eyes. Seeing there was no time to pull back, she made a split-second decision—shoving Clara with all her might to the ground as she herself fell backward, pretending she’d been pushed.

Clara crashed onto the cold floor, bones screaming in agony. The second impact sent pain ripping through her so fiercely she curled up on instinct, unable even to groan.

“Vanessa!” Liam’s pupils constricted at the sight. He dropped the bottle in his hand and rushed over like a madman, carefully lifting Vanessa up, his voice thick with panic. “Are you hurt? Did you hit anything? Did it touch your belly?”

Tears sprang instantly to Vanessa’s eyes, falling like broken beads. She clung tightly to Liam’s arm, her voice choked and pitiful, dripping with grievance. “Liam… Clara just came at me and pushed me—she said… she said my baby doesn’t deserve to live, that I stole what belonged to her, and that this child should be gotten rid of…”

“That’s your child too—how could she be so cruel!”

Clara lay on the ground, the pain making her vision darken, but she refused to show weakness in front of these two. She gritted her teeth, forced her trembling hands against the cold floor, and slowly pulled herself up along the wall. Her face was ashen, but her lips were bitten blood-red.

Following Vanessa’s gaze, Liam turned his eyes on Clara. His expression twisted into something vicious and terrifying, like a poisoned blade of ice aimed straight at her. “Get on your knees and apologize to Vanessa.”

Clara stared at him in disbelief, her body trembling slightly from rage and despair. “She’s the one who pushed me. She made the first move! Why should I apologize?”

“Why?” Liam let out a cold laugh, then suddenly lifted his foot and kicked viciously at Clara’s knee.

*Thud!*

Agonizing pain shot through her knee, her legs buckled, and she collapsed heavily onto the floor. The icy cold surface seeped through her thin clothes, sending chills up her spine.

Liam stepped forward, pressing her head down with such force it felt like he would grind her skull into the ground. His voice was feral, filled with violence. “How long is it going to take for you to learn? You insist on provoking Vanessa again and again, forcing my hand, is that it?”

“Don’t forget—if Vanessa hadn’t saved my mother, I would’ve killed you long ago! The only reason you’re still breathing is because of Vanessa!”

Clara’s mind buzzed—the roaring tinnitus drowned out everything. It felt as though all her strength had been drained, leaving her kneeling there completely powerless.

It took a long time for the ringing to fade. She lifted her head and looked into Liam’s bloodshot eyes, and once again—broken, hoarse, and desperate—she repeated the truth she had said countless times. “It wasn’t me… I wasn’t the one who caused the accident… I—I donated my spleen to save her… Liam, believe me just once… please…”

But Liam’s mind was sealed shut, blocked by lies he refused to question. “Enough!” he roared, his expression filled with raw violence. “It was Vanessa. Why do you insist on stealing the credit? Clara, how can someone be so vile—trying to take credit for saving a life!”

Clara slowly turned her head, staring at the man who once swore eternal devotion to her. His past tender words replayed like cruel echoes—

“Clara, after we get married, we’ll travel the world. I want everyone to know I love you.”

“You’re the most precious treasure of my life. I thank heaven for bringing you to me. I’ll spend my life cherishing you.”

“Clara, one child—just Noah—is enough. I can’t bear to see you suffer through childbirth again. It would drive me insane.”

Those sweet words, once honeyed, now cut like the sharpest blade—slicing her heart piece by piece. She saw a glimmer of something in Liam’s eyes—something that might have once been tears—but now it held only hatred and revulsion.

So his love had always been this cheap. And his hatred could be this immense.

Clara’s heart died completely, like being thrown into an abyss of ice—no warmth remained. She did not resist, did not explain, letting Liam force her downward, her mind holding only one final thought.

Seven days. In seven days, the helicopter would come. She would finally be free.

She slowly opened her mouth and forced out three words—each word soaked in humiliation, blood, and tears. “I’m sorry.”

Only then did Liam release his hand, looking down at her on the floor with a frosty gaze. “Remember—there won’t be a next time.”

He carefully supported Vanessa and was about to walk away. Before leaving, he turned back and spoke coldly. “I have to ensure Vanessa’s child is born safely. No one will harm them—especially not you.”

A nurse hurried forward and gently helped Clara up. The moment her arm touched Clara’s, she could feel how stiff and fragile Clara was—like a single gust of air might topple her. “Clara, your injuries are too severe. You need to lie down.”

Clara let the nurse ease her onto the bed. Her bones still ached, but the numbness inside her heart far overshadowed physical pain. In the past few days, the room had been deathly silent. No one had visited—no calls, no messages. She had even hired a caregiver herself to bring water, feed her medicine, and wash her—tasks a family would normally perform, left entirely to her own endurance.

Until Liam appeared at the hospital room door—Clara’s gaze didn’t even flicker, as if he was no more significant than a passing shadow.

Liam stood there, watching her for a long time. The eyes that once overflowed with tenderness were now filled with something hesitant, conflicted. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice low. “About that night—at the private club—I heard what happened.”

Clara continued staring silently at the white wall, her fingers absently smoothing the wrinkles on the blanket, offering no response.

“I didn’t know something like that would happen after I left.” He paused, as though gathering courage, before forcing out two reluctant words. “I’m sorry.”

“Those men—I dealt with them.”

A sharp, bitter laugh twisted inside Clara’s chest. A late apology—some meaningless retribution—what would it fix? Would it erase the filth she endured? Bring Noah back? Undo the irreparable damage he inflicted?

Clearly not.

Liam approached the bed, reaching out a hand as if to touch her forehead—perhaps to check if she was alright—but before his hand could reach her, Clara swatted it away, her motion filled with unmistakable disgust.

His expression darkened instantly, a shadow crossing his face as his voice dropped. “Come with me to the church. Vanessa said the priest told her—you must confess sincerely, or her baby will be in danger.”

Clara finally turned her head, meeting his eyes. Her gaze was frighteningly calm—void of any emotion. “What danger?”

“What you did to my mother—and what you owe Vanessa—will come back on the child.” Liam frowned, his tone filled with absolute certainty.

“Heh—” Clara suddenly laughed—bitter, hollow, despairing. “Absurd. Absolutely absurd.”

“Liam, this kind of illogical, loophole-ridden nonsense—you believe that?”

Liam pressed his lips tightly, his face growing darker. “When it concerns the child, I have no choice but to believe it. Let’s go.”

As he reached to grab Clara’s hand, the nurse came in to change dressings. Seeing the scene, she hurried to intervene. “Sir, you can’t take Clara away! She has multiple fractures and internal trauma—her injuries are very serious. She absolutely cannot get out of bed!”

Clara subtly shifted herself out of Liam’s reach. Liam, however, replied to the nurse in a deep voice, “I’m her husband. I’m taking her home.”