"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?!"

Simon had always longed for a child, yet after ten years of marriage, I had never once gotten pregnant.

Now, the sudden news of my pregnancy caught him completely off guard.

His expression flickered—part surprise, part hesitation.

“You're pregnant... then you...”

Before he could finish, Jasmine appeared in the doorway.

“Simon... so many people online are cursing me. I can't take it anymore. You and I—we're the real couple...”

Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her pitiful voice shattered his thoughts.

Simon immediately pulled her into his arms, murmuring comfort.

He took a deep breath—almost as if trying to convince me, but more like he was convincing himself.

“Reina, Jasmine is more fragile than you and she needs my protection more. She's pregnant with my child, and her morning sickness has been unbearable lately. You... you've survived with crippled legs—prison will be hard, but you'll get through it...”

A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Simon, you're really that cruel to me? I'm also carrying your child, yet you'd still send me to prison?”

He turned his head away, unable to meet the mockery in my eyes.

“When you get out, I promise I'll take you back. I'll raise your child. Neither of you will want for anything.”

His words were like ice. I thought I'd cry, but instead, I only looked at him with calmness so foreign it startled even me.

“Fine,” I said evenly. “I'll do as you ask. I'll say it was me who slandered Jasmine, that I lost my mind, that I coveted a place that was never mine.”

Relief softened his tense expression.

“At least you've come to your senses. This is best for everyone—”

“But,” I cut him off, “you'll sign a new divorce agreement.”

“A fair one.” My eyes locked on him.

“Sign it, and I'll confess to everything at the press conference. If you don't... I'll tell the world we were married, and I'll ruin Jasmine completely.”

His face darkened, gaze fixed on me.

“...Fine.”

He finally caved, pulling out his phone. “Secretary Donald, draft a new divorce agreement immediately. Divide the marital assets according to the law.”

The wait was suffocatingly silent.

When Secretary Donald rushed in with the document, Simon signed without hesitation.

To him, this small price was worth it—so long as he got my public confession.

I took the papers, the cold pen steady in my hand, and signed my name with equal resolve.

Seeing the signatures, he exhaled in relief.

“I'll have the press conference arranged. Wait here.”

With Jasmine in his arms, he left, murmuring reassurances.

“Jasmine, don't worry about the online comments. I've taken care of everything...”

His voice faded with his retreating figure.

I wheeled myself to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Just moments ago, my brother had replied—he was outside, waiting to take me away.

Sure enough, there it was: the familiar car parked quietly below.

The door opened, and Lucian's figure appeared.

I pulled out the bedsheet rope I'd prepared long ago and climbed down from the second floor.

“Reina!”

The moment my feet touched the ground, my brother hurried forward to help me.

I gently pushed his hand away, stood on my own, and walked steadily into the car.

“Let's go home, Brother.”

“Mm!” He nodded firmly.

The car rolled away, leaving behind the place I had called home for ten years.

'Simon, we will never meet again.'

—

An hour later, Simon pushed Reina's bedroom door.

“Tired as I am, I've arranged the press conference. Come with me—”

He stopped mid-sentence as he realized the room was empty.

The wheelchair sat motionless by the window. The bed was neatly made, cold, and untouched.

“...Reina?” His voice rose, searching every corner.

“Reina!”

The shout ripped from his throat, a wave of panic crashing over him.

He immediately called Secretary Donald.

“Did you find her? Where did she go?”

“Mr. Alvaro, as you instructed, we couldn't track Madam's movements. Her whereabouts are... unknown.”

Unknown?

Simon stood frozen in the empty room, the phone limp in his hand.

His eyes fell on the abandoned wheelchair, and for the first time, he felt that something precious had slipped away from him.