My fingers were icy as I clutched the crumpled “voluntary confession” in my hand.

On the TV in the living room, my husband, Simon Alvaro, faced the camera with a look of righteous indignation.

“The company's money was embezzled by Reina. To escape punishment, she slandered Jasmine. Jasmine is my wife—she's carrying my child. I won't allow anyone to hurt her!”

Jasmine was my assistant.

The woman my husband had fallen in love with.

The woman who had stolen my identity as his wife.

I had stood by him for ten years. I even lost the use of my legs saving his life. And now, he had drugged me into signing this confession—just to take the blame for her crime.

What he didn't know my legs had been slowly recovering. And I was pregnant with his child as well.

A sharp-voiced reporter asked, “Mr. Alvaro, is it true that Ms. Reina is your legal wife, and that she was crippled while saving you? And that she's now pregnant?”

“That's total nonsense! She's delusional—that's why she thinks I'm her husband. She never saved me. The only woman I've ever loved, the only wife I have, is Jasmine!”

To prove his devotion, Simon kissed Jasmine in front of the cameras.

That night, faint breaths leaked from the half-closed study door next to our bedroom.

“Simon, I love you so much,” Jasmine's voice trembled with passion.

“Baby, you've been her assistant for ten years, taking care of that cripple—what a waste of you.” His voice was low, hoarse with desire.

“From now on, I'll make it up to you.”

The word cripple stabbed straight into my chest.

My nails dug deep into my palms as I listened.

The man I had loved for a decade, the man who swore to care for me after my accident, was now plotting—while I carried his child—to throw me in prison in place of his mistress.

The grief was so heavy I leaned back involuntarily, my wheelchair slamming against the entryway wall.

Simon's cold, alert voice cut through the air.

“Who's out there?”

I froze in place.

“Oh, who else could it be?” Jasmine laughed lightly.

“Simon, so what if she hears? She's a cripple—she can't do anything. Let's continue.”

Simon hesitated only briefly before sinking back into her arms.

“You're right. She has made you suffer long enough, always needing you to care for her. Letting her take the fall for you is just returning the favor. I've already arranged for a lawyer—she won't be out of prison for at least twenty years.”

His cruelty was a dull knife twisting in my already shredded heart.

Ten years ago, in that car crash... Even after I freed myself from the heavy debris crushing my legs, I crawled to him. He was trapped, barely breathing. I cut through the seatbelt strangling him until my vision went black.

When he woke up, he gripped my hand tightly, his eyes wet with tears.

“Reina, I'll never betray you for as long as I live.”

And for years, I believed him.

Through our marriage, he never mocked my disability. He even quarreled with his mother to defend me.

Once, a reporter caught him entering a hotel with another woman. I cried, confronted him, and he held me all night.

“She's just a business associate. The only woman I love is you.”

Two months ago, I went to the hospital alone and learned I was pregnant. I was overjoyed.

But when I came home—before I could even take out the test results—his secretary, Donald, was waiting in the living room with the confession papers already filled out with my name.

Looking at the paper, my face went pale.

“I don't believe this. Where's Simon? Why isn't he here?”

“Mr. Alvaro said he could've lived peacefully with you, but you shouldn't have hurt the woman he loves...”

And right then, the TV began playing his interview—those damning words.

All because I'd discovered Jasmine had stolen company funds, my husband was willing to destroy me.

I forced my wheelchair forward, shutting out the sound of their voices.

In the living room, the housekeeper was holding a pile of familiar clothes.

“What's going on?” I asked.

She looked embarrassed, and a flicker of pity gleamed in her eyes.

“Ms. Hayes said these clothes are outdated and don't suit her anymore.. so sir told us to throw them out and replace them with new ones.”

I stared at the clothes and handbags in her arms—every piece something I owned.

I rarely went out and cared little for such things, but Simon always insisted, “If others have it, you should too.”

I never doubted his love before.

Following the housekeeper, I entered Jasmine's room.

The moment the door opened, my breath hitched.

This wasn't an assistant's room—it was a queen's suite.

The vanity was piled high with luxury skincare and jewelry. The walk-in closet was stuffed with designer clothes and limited-edition handbags. Everything I had, she had... only better.

And then my eyes froze on the wall above the bed—a massive photo collage.

Every picture was Simon and Jasmine. The dates were all neatly labeled. Dinner dates, overnight stays...

He told me he avoided sleeping beside me so as not to injure my legs. I had been touched by his “consideration.” But it turned out, every night, he was lying in bed with her.

In one photo, he wore the loungewear I'd bought him; in another, Jasmine was draped in a silk nightgown. The way they gazed at each other was intoxicating.

The wall of photos seemed to mock me—mocked my ten years of blind devotion.

And now, he planned to divorce me, to lock me away.

No. For my child's sake, I wouldn't let them win.

I pulled out my phone, my cold fingers scrolling to a number I hadn't dialed in years.

“Brother...”

When the call connected, my throat was so dry I could barely speak. With all the strength I had left, I forced out the words, “I want to come home...”

“Simon actually did this to you?! Has he forgotten how he once knelt before Mom and Dad, begging to marry you? Did he forget who risked her life to save him in that car crash and you lost your legs for him?”

“Reina, I'll find you the best lawyer. Give me three days. I'll come and take you home!”

On the other end of the line, my brother, Lucian's voice shook with fury.

The warmth of my family's protection made my tears fall harder.

I had loved Simon since I was a girl. After the accident, he was the one who promised to take care of me for the rest of my life.

For ten years, he shielded me from cruel remarks about my legs. Every night, he would awkwardly yet tenderly massage them.

Even Jasmine—she had been carefully chosen by him from over a thousand applicants to be my personal assistant, to tend to my every need.

Was all of that love nothing but a lie?

When I hung up, the housekeeper approached cautiously, carrying a steaming glass of milk.

“Madam... this is from Mr. Alvaro. He says you must drink it before bed every night.”

Her words pierced me like a needle.

After my accident, I often woke up in the middle of the night. And many times, Simon would bring me warm milk just like this. His voice was gentle, telling me I was the most important person in his life, that no matter how I changed, he would never leave me.

Whenever I felt the weight of people's stares, he would stand in front of me, a wall between me and the world, my only anchor after my paralysis.

But yesterday, it was also this milk.

He coaxed me to drink it—and once the drug took effect, he held my hand and signed my name onto that cold, damning confession.

“Ah!”

The nausea and rage boiled up at once. I screamed, hurling my arm forward.

The glass shattered against the floor, milk splashing hot across my legs and soaking my pants.

The crash startled the people in the study.

Immediately, the door slammed open.

Simon stood there, annoyance flickering in his eyes at being interrupted. Jasmine slipped out from behind him, a triumphant smile curving her lips.

She walked toward me, her voice was laced with false concern.

“Madam, how did you manage to get your pants so dirty? How will I clean this up?”

She pulled out a tissue, reaching for my legs.

She used to do this sort of thing for me all the time—dressing, feeding, washing—without complaint. But now, the thought of her touch made the bile rise in my throat.

I slapped her hand away.

“Don't touch me!”

She gave a sharp cry, clutching her hand as if I'd hurt her.

Simon's face darkened.

“Reina, what's wrong with you now?” His voice was cold, and cutting.

“Jasmine has served you faithfully for ten years, and this is how you treat her?”

He pulled her into his arms, blowing gently over the hand that hadn't even reddened.

“Jasmine, does it still hurt? You're not her assistant anymore—you don't have to do this. And her legs... They're disgusting. Don't let them scare you.”

"Disgusting?"

The word left me reeling, the syllables scraping my throat as they came out.

He didn't notice—his attention was all on her.

I'd seen that tenderness before. When I was at my lowest, unable to feel my legs, he would massage them again and again, kissing every ugly scar as if it were nothing. Back then, his eyes had been just as soft.

And because I had known what love felt like, the absence of it was blindingly clear now.

Tears spilled over, hot and relentless, blurring my sight.

“Why? Simon... tell me why... why would you do this to me?”

At my words, his brow furrowed slightly—something flickering deep in his gaze, but it vanished before I could name it.

He was silent for a few seconds, then stepped forward, pulling a tissue from the box beside him.

As he leaned closer to wipe my tears, I saw it—an ambiguous red mark on his collarbone.

My sobs stopped dead. My body went rigid.

He followed my gaze, and a brief shadow of embarrassment crossed his face.

He straightened quickly, shoving the tissue into my cold hands.

“Wipe your face.”

Turning away, he spoke without looking at me.

“The lawyer will come tomorrow. I've arranged everything at the prison—you'll be looked after. A few years will pass quickly.”

He paused, then returned from the study with a document.

It was a divorce agreement.

“Sign it,” his voice was calm to the point of cruelty.

“It's better for both of us. All marital assets—including what's under your name—will go to Jasmine.”

His gaze flicked to my legs.

“I said I'd take care of you for life. When you get out, I'll bring you home. You can still stay by my side. I'll make sure someone looks after you.”

All the assets... to Jasmine.

I looked from the papers to the man I once thought I knew. Slowly, I curled my fingers around the agreement, my knuckles turning white with force.

To take her place in prison.

To stay by his side afterward, as if nothing had happened.

His shamelessness didn't just hurt me—it hollowed me out.

And at that moment, I knew... my heart for him was dead.

"No." My voice was hoarse, but unwavering.

"This divorce agreement is unfair to me. I won't sign a single word of it."

I slammed the document on the floor.

"Reina!" Simon's voice rose in anger at my defiance.

He suddenly gripped my wrist. Pain shot through me, forcing a sharp gasp from my lips.

"Reina, your legs are crippled—you'll never stand again. Who else would want you besides me? If you can't figure that out, then just stay at home!"

Simon ordered the housekeeper to keep me under strict watch, forbidding me from stepping outside—not until the court summoned me.

He kept trying to persuade me to sign, but I locked myself away in my room, ignoring him. In secret, I trained my legs every day, hoping to stand again.

When I wheeled myself to the dining table one day, the housekeeper set before me a small bowl of cold rice and a plate of wilted, spoiled greens.

"Madam... please just make do," she whispered.

These past two days, Jasmine had been strutting around like the mistress of the house, ordering the staff to serve me only leftovers.

I opened my mouth to speak—but then Simon returned.

His gaze swept over the pitiful food in front of me, then shifted back to Jasmine.

"Jasmine, didn't I tell you you're no longer her assistant? You don't need to bother with her."

He sat down beside her, displeased, and placed a piece of fish into her mouth.

"You're pregnant now. You need proper nutrition. I bought you plenty of supplements—later I'll have the housekeeper prepare them for you."

I lowered my eyes, refusing to look at the glaring contrast before me, though the ache in my chest couldn't be hidden.

Jasmine's eyes were filled with tears.

"Simon, you're so good to me... the moment you come home, you think of me first..."

To show her gratitude, she kissed him hard on the cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

"You're the most important person in this house now. If I don't think of you, who else would I think of?"

Silently, I wheeled myself back to my cold, lonely room.

But without food... I could endure it—but the baby in my belly could not.

In the middle of the night, I quietly turned the wheels and opened my door. Guided by memory, I made my way to the fridge. Inside, food was neatly stacked and plentiful.

Bitterness stung my heart.

There was plenty to eat in this house. Simon had seen the scraps I was given—yet he was this cruel.

I blinked back tears and stuffed food into my mouth.

Suddenly, a sharp click sounded—the kitchen light flicked on.

Simon stood there in a robe, frowning at the sight of me eating in desperation.

"You... were you really that hungry?"

He stepped closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over me.

"Two days, and you already look thinner," he murmured, almost hesitant—there was a trace of concern in his tone, perhaps without even realizing it himself.

I didn't answer and only kept eating.

"Simon?"

The soft, sugary voice came from the doorway. Jasmine appeared, wearing one of his oversized dress shirts that hung loosely on her frame.

When she saw him standing close to me, her pupils shrank, and jealousy flared hot in her eyes.

"Simon, I had a nightmare and couldn't sleep... come back to bed with me..."

She walked up to him, deliberately brushing her body against his, tilting her head up to demand a kiss.

His body stiffened, his eyes flicking toward my pale face—his Adam's apple bobbed—but Jasmine's touch pulled his attention away.

"Later," he soothed her softly. "There's someone else here."

Her eyes glistened with tears. "Are you... still caring about her? You told me you only love me."

At her words, panic flickered across his face. He kissed her quickly. "Don't talk nonsense. Of course, I only love you—let her watch if she wants."

Under the harsh kitchen light, they kissed without restraint—right in front of me.

Watching the man I had loved for ten years hold another woman so tenderly... my heart clenched until I thought it would stop beating.

I gripped the armrests of my wheelchair hard, taking in a deep breath.

'It's fine. Just one more day. My brother will be here tomorrow.' I comforted myself. 'I won't go to prison for Jasmine. And I don't want him anymore.'

—

On the third morning, just as I was about to start my exercises, my door was thrown open with force.

A phone landed in front of me, followed by Simon's furious roar. "Did you do this?!"

"You told people online that Jasmine was actually your assistant—and that she's a homewrecker? Are you trying to ruin her?!"

His words stunned me.

"I... didn't do that—"

But he wouldn't listen. He came closer, anger written all over his face.

"Do you know she cried for an hour over those comments? She was so upset she couldn't eat! You're going to go online and admit it's not true—and you're going to apologize to her!"

I stared at him in disbelief from my wheelchair. "Isn't it the truth? How is this my fault?"

I couldn't understand. I couldn't understand why he treated Jasmine this way.

My question only enraged him further.

"You still won't admit it?!"

His temper exploded. Forgetting I was in a wheelchair, he shoved me hard. My body—and the chair—slammed into the wall.

Something slipped from my pocket and fell to the floor.

He froze, then bent to pick it up.

"A pregnancy report?!" His voice was sharp with shock.

"Reina... you're pregnant?!"