While her heart and mind were wrapped around Knox, I stepped quickly through the front door.

Two sharp honks were heard just as I reached the villa’s threshold.

Spotting the silver sedan outside the iron gates, I quickened my pace without thinking.

But before the gate could swing open, two bodyguards appeared out of nowhere and yanked me back by force.

Inside the study, Giselle had me tied up like a criminal on trial.

At her cold command, someone plunged a thick needle, almost as wide as a child’s arm, straight into my vein.

Through the half-open door, I caught the doctor’s voice.

“President Deveraux, although both Mr. Milo Thatcher and Assistant Remington have RH-negative panda blood, Mr. Thatcher has a history of heart disease. Forcing blood from him might trigger acute shock. I recommend transferring him to the hospital first, then drawing blood for the anemic Assistant Remington—”

“No need to convince me,” Giselle cut in coldly.

“Your only concern is that Knox recovers. As for the rest, I’ll handle it.”

Hearing her footsteps draw near, I slowly shut my eyes.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice laced with a rare trace of gentleness.

“Just hang in there. It’ll be over soon.”

I turned my face away, unwilling to waste a single word on her.

By the time they had drawn 800 milliliters of blood, my lips had turned a sickly shade of purple.

Suddenly, from the master bedroom, Knox began to cough.

The moment she heard it, Giselle pressed down on the doctor’s hand just as he was about to remove the needle and demanded they double the amount.

The doctor, sweating bullets, warned her that any more might kill me.

She hesitated for two seconds, just two, before her voice came cold and firm. “Knox comes first.”

“But—”

I cut him off.

“Do it. Just let me leave once it’s done.”

Giselle stared at my drained face, her eyes burning with a fury colder than ice.

Her lips parted, ready to accuse me of making a scene.

Was I going to walk out over something so petty?

But before she could say a word, Knox’s frail voice rang out from upstairs. “Giselle—”

And just like that, she was pulled away again.

Two days later.

I woke up in a hospital bed after falling into shock, and the first thing I saw was Giselle sitting by the window, calmly reviewing documents.

Our eyes locked, silent and still.

Without a word, she brought over a bowl of cereal and lifted the spoon as if to feed me.

I turned my head slightly.

“I’ll do it myself.”

She said nothing; she just stood there, watching me silently eat half the bowl. Then she finally asked, “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

I gave an answer that had nothing to do with her concern. “Please give me my phone.”

Perhaps she heard the distance in my voice because she froze for a moment before signaling the butler to bring it over.

When the phone was in my hand, she noticed the list of missed calls lighting up the screen.

Her voice came quiet but sharp, “Who’s been calling you?”

She never used to ask questions like this.

A flicker of irritation passed through my eyes.

“Someone you don’t know,” I replied flatly.

Undoing the top button of her blouse, she stared down at me with frosty disdain.

“Milo, how long do you plan on keeping up this attitude?”

“Give you a little space and suddenly you think you can do as you please, is that it?”

In the past, whenever she lost her temper, I would reflect, apologize, and try to soothe her wrath.

But now, I simply pointed at the phone vibrating in her hand and said, “Knox is calling you.”

A faint smile flickered in her eyes. As always, she dodged me and walked out into the hallway.

The moment she left, my own phone lit up with a call.

I picked it up, but before I could say a word, a voice burst through, breathless with worry.

“You promised to come find me! Milo, did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. Something unexpected happened…”

“Unexpected? What happened? No, I'm coming back to the U.S. right now.”

I lowered my gaze, lips pressed into a tight line, and silently cut off the rambling voice.

"Just give me a few more days."

When she returned to the hospital room, I had just ended the call.

She caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her chest tightened.

But she had already promised Knox she'd go with him to pick out a crib.

There was no time to ask who I had been talking to. Maybe she thought it was that cousin who dropped by from time to time. After all, ever since marrying her, I’d been left with no friends of my own.

Snatching up her documents, she turned without looking back and said coolly, "Milo, there’s something at the office. I’ll come again tomorrow."

Tomorrow came and went. So did the day after, and the day after that. But she never showed up.

Instead, through mutual friends, I kept receiving clips of her with Knox.

She brought him to parties, dinners, and high-profile events, like a girl newly in love, eager to parade her man before the world.

The day I was discharged from the hospital, she posted a nine-photo grid on social media.

At sunset, she stood atop a romantic hot air balloon, passionately kissing Knox.

I left a comment. [Wishing you both a lifetime of love and a baby on the way.]

Ten minutes later, she called.

I didn’t pick up.

Half an hour later, after handling the discharge alone, I passed by the entrance of the obstetrics department, only to see her and Knox standing there.

At the consultation desk, I overheard a young nurse say brightly, “Ms. Deveraux, your husband really dotes on you. He never lets you come alone. Even during your ultrasounds, he warms the coupling gel himself so it doesn’t feel cold on your belly.”

The mothers waiting nearby all looked on with envy.

For a fleeting moment, I thought we once had a child, too. But she had ended that pregnancy behind my back.

That very day, Knox sent me a voice message, “Giselle lost a bet to me. From now on, she’s only allowed to have children for me.”

I hadn’t even responded yet; not a minute later, she called.

No explanations. No questions.

Just curses. She called me petty. Unbelievably stupid.

And then she screamed, “Milo, a loser like you has no right to have children with me. If I ever do have a baby, it’ll be with someone with better genes!”

…

Snapping back to reality, I was about to walk away when she suddenly strode over, her face cold as ice.

“Why are you just standing there like an idiot?”

I lowered my gaze, instinctively trying to explain, “I wasn’t following you two. It really was just a coincidence. Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait.”

She frowned as she spoke, and I noticed a flicker of jealousy in Knox’s eyes.

Tightening his hold on her waist, Knox smiled and said, “Mr. Thatcher, I really appreciate your blood donation. Without you, I’d probably still be lightheaded. President Deveraux, why don’t we invite Mr. Thatcher to come home with us?”

She gave Knox a satisfied glance before replying, “The kindest man in the world, whatever you say, Knox.”

I had originally planned to grab my luggage and leave, so I didn’t object to his ‘kind’ invitation.

Inside the spacious black car, just as Knox had hoped, I soon spotted a lacy pair of women’s underwear wedged in a seat gap.

“Huh? This. Why is this still in the car? Giselle, I must’ve forgotten to take care of it.”

Knox looked flustered as he grabbed the panties, quickly tucking them into his inner pocket.

She playfully punched his chest a few times, all while subtly observing my reaction.

But when she saw that I wasn’t angry at all, that same sense of frustration she had felt back in the hospital room crept up on her once again.

“Milo, ever since you got in the car, you’ve been glued to your phone.”

Her voice cut through the air, sharp with jealousy.

“Were you chatting with your cousin again? Or someone else I don’t know?”

I had already booked my flight, and without responding, I turned off my phone.

“Just reading the news,” I replied.

Her displeasure deepened at my words, the furrow between her brows deepening.

Suddenly, she snatched the phone from my hands, demanding my password.

“It’s my birthday.”

Nine years of marriage, and yet she kept entering the simple six-digit code wrong, frustration creeping into her face until the phone locked itself, stubbornly refusing to unlock.

We rode in silence, the tension hanging between us, until we reached our destination.

As soon as the car stopped, her pregnancy nausea hit, and she let Knox help her upstairs to the master bedroom.

Knox, playing the role of the doting husband, ordered the chef to prepare all her favorite dishes.

When she came downstairs, she saw me walking toward the guest room, the sight of my solitary figure striking a chord in her.

For a moment, she hesitated, then turned to the chef and said, “Make two more dishes he usually eats. Set three places for dinner.”

Inside the guest room, I opened my luggage, only to find that my clothes had been slashed to shreds.

Thankfully, the passport and documents I’d tucked deep inside were still intact.

As I began to gather my things and prepare to leave, Knox suddenly blocked the door.

With a black bottle in hand, he looked me up and down with a sneer.

“Milo, I didn’t think you could be this shameless. You’ve become the laughingstock of the entire upper circle, publicly humiliated by me, and you still haven’t left?”

He scoffed, his eyes full of disdain.

“Then again, your old grandma from the Thatcher family passed away last month. Without that big backer, of course, you’re clinging to Miss Deveraux like she’s your only lifeline.”

A thought seemed to amuse him, and he grinned.

“Milo, remember the day you begged and cried for Miss Deveraux to send you to the hospital by helicopter just to see your grandma one last time? Do you know why she didn’t go?”

“Because she had already promised to watch the sunset with me at the beach.”

He held up his phone, showing me a photo.

“Look, this kissing photo was taken at that exact moment.”

I slapped his phone out of his hand and grabbed him by the throat; I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The bottle in Knox’s hand slipped, and the harsh scent of gasoline hit me instantly.

In the chaos, panic took over, and Knox lit the spilled fuel.

Thick smoke erupted, and flames soon swallowed the room.

Having just been discharged from the hospital, my strength faltered, and I collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.

Then, I heard Giselle’s voice, “Milo!”

The sound of servants shouting followed, “Madam, it’s too dangerous! You can’t go in there! Please wait for the fire extinguishers!”

“Move! Milo is still inside!”

Without hesitation, she rushed into the flames.

What she didn’t expect was that Knox was still in there, too.

“Miss, help!”

Before Knox could finish, Giselle dashed toward him without a second thought.

She didn’t even glance at me, turning away without a second look.

Half an hour later, after soothing Knox, she searched the entire villa, but I was nowhere to be found.

At midnight, I stood at the airport.

After mailing a package, I boarded a flight to the UK, coughing all the while.

Just before takeoff, my phone buzzed. A text from Giselle appeared.

[I don’t have time to play hide and seek. Knox has a check-up tomorrow at 10 a.m. You’re coming too to get your lungs checked!]

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I pulled out the SIM card and powered off my phone for good.

Giselle, from that moment on, we were strangers forever.

The next day, at the hospital.

“Giselle, are you okay? Is the baby alright?”

Looking into Knox’s worried eyes, Giselle wrapped her arms around him, her voice soft and tender as she whispered.