The day before my father’s funeral, the butler quietly approached with a troubled face and handed me an email accusing my wife of cheating.

"Young master, Miss Silva has give birth and the child is calling another man daddy."

Dione Silva offered no explanation. Her voice remained calm, almost indifferent.

"You should focus on your father’s funeral first."

The next day, she didn’t show up to pay her respects. Instead, she called.

"Rupert is with me at the postpartum care center, so I won’t be attending the funeral."

I stayed silent. She paused, then spoke sweetly, as if coaxing me after a minor argument.

"Don’t worry, the child was just an accident. Rupert doesn’t want to ruin our marriage, he just wants me to keep the baby for him."

"But I’m still the child’s mother. I can’t just give birth and not raise it. I’ll stay at his place to take care of the baby on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and I’ll come home on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."

I clenched my fist and let out a bitter laugh.

"No need. We never even registered the marriage. I hope you two live happily ever after."

Dione sneered and replied, "Atticus Hollis, your father just died. Stop making a scene with me."

I ended the call without a word and turned to face Dione’s greatest rival.

"Marry me. I’ll help you destroy the Silva family. Deal?"

——

At the funeral, a flicker of surprise passed through Rhea Langston’s eyes. Her cold expression softened, and her cheeks flushed as she stammered.

"Our Langston family only allows one marriage in a lifetime. If you marry me, I’ll belong to you forever."

I thought she would refuse. I turned to leave, disheartened.

But suddenly, she grabbed my hand tightly. Her frosty expression shifted, replaced by a look of desperate resolve.

"Atticus, think carefully. This marriage, once it starts, there’s no turning back."

I gave a faint smile and nodded without hesitation.

"Alright. No divorce."

Rhea was originally the woman my father had chosen for me. Her character was flawless, her family background respectable, and her temperament calm and dignified.

If I hadn’t fallen for Dione, I would’ve married her without hesitation.

The funeral drained every ounce of energy I had. For over two exhausting weeks, Rhea handled the condolences with grace and tireless effort.

In all that time, Dione never called. Not even once.

Each time I opened social media, I was greeted by photos of her and Rupert Bradford, smiling like a picture-perfect family, hands forming a heart around their newborn.

With a caption, [My dearest, most beloved family.]

I sneered, the bitterness clawing its way through my chest.

Just then, her call came through. Her voice was lazy as if she had just woken from a nap.

"The funeral’s done, right? Want to come visit the baby at the postpartum center?"

I stared at my tired reflection in the rearview mirror, dark circles shadowing my eyes, and replied in a steady voice, "Dione, we’ve already ended things."

There was a brief pause on the other end before she gave a soft hum as if replying to herself.

"That’s fine. Rupert’s been feeling a little down lately, he’d probably be upset if he saw you."

My heart, already numb, sank even deeper.

My eyes turned red as I let out a bitter, mocking laugh.

"Dione, I said we’ve broken up. Are you deaf?"

She paused for a second, then let out a light, teasing giggle.

"Atticus, you chased me for five years. Everyone knows how hopelessly in love you are. Without me, who in high society would ever consider marrying you?"

"I told you, the baby was just an accident. Why are you still clinging to it?"

I said nothing.

On the other end, I heard something crash to the ground.

Dione let out a cold sneer. "Fine. Break up then. But on the day of the arranged marriage, if no one shows up. I’ll be waiting for you to crawl back and beg me."

The call ended with a sharp click.

When I got home, I found the door code had been changed.

I tried calling Dione, but her phone was unreachable. With nowhere else to go, I ended up crashing at a random hotel for the night.

By morning, my Instagram feed was flooded with a recommended livestream broadcast straight from the postpartum center.

Rupert was smiling brightly at the camera, chatting with the viewers naturally.

Beside him, Dione sat quietly, her eyes glued to him with affection.

That gentle gaze, I once believed it, was mine alone.

The live stream had run for nearly five hours before the comments began to flood in.

[So jealous of this girl! Living in a postpartum center that costs 500,000 a month, with a rich, handsome husband!]

[She’s living the dream.]

[Pick me! I want a husband like that, too!]

Before she inherited the Silva Corporation, Dione had been a special forces agent, sharp, disciplined, and private.

She despised cameras.

Even when I asked for a simple photo together, she would turn away with a cold refusal.

But now, for Rupert, she made an exception, broadcasting herself live before a nationwide audience.

Rupert turned to the camera with a radiant smile.

"My wife is amazing. So thoughtful."

Thoughtful?

A dull ache twisted through my chest as I let out a hollow laugh.

Dione had never shown me that kind of softness. Not once.

I remember once asking her to go-kart racing with me.

I had to coax and beg for what felt like forever before she finally gave in.

But after barely twenty minutes on the track, she shut down completely, cold, distant, for the rest of the day.

I showered her with gifts, hoping to soften her mood. But all she said, with visible irritation, was, "Spending time with you is just a waste of my time."

She could be thoughtful. She could spend an entire day with someone for Rupert. But never for me.

Dione must’ve recognized my Instagram handle. She called.

"I’m giving you half an hour. Come pick up your dad’s things from the postpartum center."

By the time I got there, the livestream had already ended.

Rupert greeted me with an overly bright smile. "Brother Atticus, you came to see Dione!"

I walked past him without a word, stepped up to Dione, and held out my hand. "Give it to me," I said flatly.

The curve on her lips vanished, her expression turning cold. "Rupert spoke to you. Are you mute?"

I forced a smile and looked straight at Rupert.

"Congratulations, Secretary Rupert. You seduced my wife and got her to carry your child. What’s next? Marrying into the family through the baby?"

Dione hurled the coffee cup in her hand to the floor.

"If you can’t speak like a human, then shut up!"

Rupert, who had been calmly slicing an apple, slipped. The blade nicked his finger.

Dione’s expression changed in an instant.

"Rupert, be careful! Does it hurt?"

His eyes reddened as he looked at me, voice low and cautious.

"Brother Atticus, I never meant to ruin things between you and Dione. I just really wanted to keep this child. Once her postpartum recovery is done, I’ll leave. I won’t bother her again."

Then he turned his gaze to the cradle, voice trembling.

"Daddy’s sorry for making you lose your mother the moment you were born. But I didn’t mean to. I hope you’ll forgive me."

He looked sorrowful as if drowning in the depths of anguish and grief.

Dione stared at me with eyes sharp as venom, her entire presence turning fierce and terrifying.

“Are you happy now, making him so sad?”

I let out a cold, bitter laugh.

“That pitiful performance? You’re the only one enjoying it.”

My words sparked a fire in Dione.

She yanked the pocket watch my mother had left, raising it high, ready to smash it into pieces.

My pupils tightened as I shouted urgently, “Stop! Don’t!”

But she didn’t hesitate. The watch flew from her hand, crashing to the floor and shattering into a million shards.

I stumbled backward, tripping on the sharp edge of the table.

Pain flared through my knee, and the old injury from saving Dione flared up again.

I cried out sharply.

Dione sneered, her voice icy cold, “That’s what you get for running your mouth.”

“Now get lost. Stop pretending you’re hurt.”

Rupert glanced at me with fake concern, his eyes cold beneath the mask.

“Brother Atticus, get up fast. Mr. Hollis might catch you pretending to have fallen…”

I gritted my teeth and shot him a cold glare.

When Rupert saw I still dared to glare, Dione snapped at the bodyguards, ordering them to haul me to my feet.

“My breasts are engorged, and I’ve changed out of so many dirty clothes. Go wash them clean before you leave. And remember hand wash only.”

I shoved her away. “Why should I?”

“Because you just bullied Rupert!” Dione’s eyes darkened to a terrifying shade.

“You owe him an apology.”

I clenched my jaw, fighting the burning pain in my foot, my voice cold.

“In your dreams.”

Her gaze turned as cold as ice, and she barked at the bodyguards to drag me into the bathroom.

The door slammed shut and locked from the outside.

Dione’s arrogant voice floated through the door. “If you don’t wash those clothes clean, don’t even think about coming out!”

“Dione, this is illegal imprisonment!” I slammed the door hard and shouted, “Open this door!”

The pounding echoed fiercely against the door, but outside, silence reigned like a grave.

My hand burned fiercely, and the wound on my foot began bleeding again.

The room stank sharply of sour milk and vomit.

I gasped, collapsing slowly to my knees.

Through the door, Rupert’s false concern cut through the quiet.

“Dione, if you treat Brother Atticus like this, won’t he be furious when he gets out?”

Dione scoffed lightly. “So what if he’s angry? I’ll just soothe him.”

“Besides, this is all his fault. If he doesn’t tame that spoiled young master temper of his, won’t I suffer marrying into the Hollis family?”

“The Silva family’s been military for generations. If Silva Corporation had an heir, my mother would never have let me marry into some moneyed family. All he knows is counting cash; he doesn’t know how to enjoy life.”

Rupert feigned worry. “Dione, if you talk about Brother Atticus like that, won’t he reject the marriage alliance?”

Silence settled heavily outside the door.

After a long pause, Dione’s cold voice slipped out with a hint of arrogance.

“He won’t.”

“He’s just a rich young master who only knows how to chase money. When he meets a woman like me, of course he has to cherish me.”

“Besides, he loves me to death. If I told him to die, he’d probably do it.”

I pressed hard against the bleeding gash on my leg, disbelief flooding me as I heard those words from Dione herself.

Our Hollis family had stood strong in business for generations, always a target for underworld threats.

Six years ago, while my father and I traveled abroad, he was taken hostage by ruthless gangsters.

One of them pressed a gun against his temple.

My eyes burned red; I thought I was about to lose him

Then, a sharp whistle sliced through the air.

The criminal dropped dead instantly.

Dione, dressed in full military gear and holding a gun, descended from above and rescued us with swift precision.

It was inside the off-road vehicle that I first saw her face, delicate features, and breathtaking beauty.

I fell for her at first sight.

For that, I had chased her relentlessly for a whole year before she finally agreed to date me.

We stayed together for five years, and I always listened to her every word.

And this was the reward for my sincerity, cold, heartless judgment.

What a cruel joke.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Dione saw me crouched on the floor, pale-faced, and impatiently pulled me to my feet.

“It’s just washing some clothes. Why are you acting so pitiful, who are you trying to fool?”

A bitter taste rose in my throat.

I swallowed it hard, fighting back the urge to vomit, and searched for the keepsake my mother had left me.

The pocket watch lay shattered beyond repair.

Broken into tiny fragments.

I bent down and picked up each piece one by one.

Dione’s voice came coldly from behind me.

“When my postpartum period ends, we’ll get married. After the wedding, Rupert will live with us.”