Bennett said he’d come pick her up.

But in the end, Ayla completed the discharge procedures by herself.

From sunrise to sunset, she waited at the hospital—until, finally, her phone lit up with a message.

She tapped it open, only to be met with a cold line she should’ve expected.

[Hey. Vayda’s sick. She needs someone to look after her. Come back by yourself.]

‘Right. What’s I even expecting at this point?’ She laughed at herself bitterly. ‘This has to be the 98th time he disappointed me.’

What made her scoff even more was the timing—no cabs were available to book that rainy night. She ended up walking alone through the streets of Lewiston, drenched from head to toe.

As the rain blurred her vision, memories of the Bennett she used to know poured into her head.

‘He used to show up with an umbrella after class on rainy days…’ she recalled. ‘But that version of him… died the day Aston came into the picture.’

By the time she finally reached the villa, the main gate was already locked.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Bennett’s number anyway.

But the voice that answered wasn’t his.

It was Vayda’s—breathy, slow, and unmistakably seductive.

“Baby… mm… slower…”

Where Ayla stood, her heart dropped, her entire body stiff with shock.

She clenched the phone and shouted, “Bitch! What are you two doing?!”

She had already decided to leave him. She had already made that choice.

But hearing their betrayal with her own ears still left a sickening ache in her chest.

Then came the click of the line going dead.

Her fingers went slack. The phone slipped from her grip and hit the concrete. Ayla followed, crumpling onto the wet pavement like her body had simply given up.

Rain continued to pour in sheets, soaking her hair, her clothes, her bones—mourning with her, it seemed.

After a while, she dragged herself upright and stood beneath the villa’s second-story window. Through the faint glow of light behind the glass, she saw them—two figures, entwined in each other’s arms.

She didn’t need to guess who they were.

Moments later, she spotted Bennett—this time standing beside Vayda, gently drying her hair with a blow dryer. His hands moved with a care and tenderness Ayla hadn’t seen in years.

And then, like a wound being reopened, a memory surfaced.

It was a picture of a teenage guy, who used to run at the sound of her voice. He once stood behind her and grinned, declaring, “From now on, I’ll be the one to protect Ayla’s hair.”

That broken promise blurred Ayla’s vision with tears.

But before everything went black, she saw someone sprinting toward her.

“Ayla! You’re back just in time. Vayda isn’t feeling well, and Aston wants milk. Go make it for him,” a voice called out casually, like she was just a maid returning from errands.

She wanted to say no. She almost did.

But then she remembered—last time, all she’d done was refuse to let Vayda sit in the front seat. For that alone, Bennett had tossed Ayla out of the car and made her walk home through the night.

Terrified that another punishment was waiting, she obeyed like a servant. Despite the dark spots dancing in her vision and the nausea rising like bile, she steadied herself, made the milk—and collapsed to the floor the moment she finished.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself lying in bed, burning with fever. Shivers wracked her limbs, her skin hot and clammy.

Suddenly, loud, feral barking outside jolted her fully awake.

She bolted upright, every nerve snapping her fully awake, and rushed down the stairs.

What she saw next made her blood run cold.

The stray dog she and Bennett had once rescued together and raised as family was now tied up at the front gate, twitching violently as Aston whipped it again and again.

Beside him stood Vayda, clapping and cheering like the cruelty entertained her.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Ayla yelled, shoving the boy aside and scooping the wounded dog into her arms.

Suddenly, Aston’s face twisted in fury. He raised the whip higher, his small hands shaking with rage.

“Move! You made me milk from that thing! I’m gonna kill that monster!”

Panic surged through her. She tried to shield the dog, flailing to protect it. In the chaos, her elbow accidentally struck Vayda, who stumbled back with a gasp.

That one motion was enough to flip a switch in Aston.

His face contorted, his eyes wild. Without hesitation, he raised the whip again—this time aiming it at Ayla.

She tried to dodge, but the blow landed anyway, slashing across her arm. The fiery sting tore through her fevered body.

Behind her, the dog howled. Its eyes flashed with something feral and protective. Then, with a violent jolt, it broke free from its restraints and lunged straight at Aston.

“No—!” Ayla cried out, trying to stop it. But it was too late.

With a sickening crunch, the dog sank its teeth into Aston’s hand. The boy let out a shrill, agonized scream as blood gushed down his arm.

Just then, the front door slammed open.

Bennett stormed in, his eyes blazing at the sight of the dog clamped onto Aston’s hand, his ears hearing the boy wailing.

Bennett quickly kicked the dog away, sending it sprawling.

“Aston!” Vayda shrieked, rushing over. While inspecting his wound, she whirled around and pointed at Ayla.

“Ayla! If you hate me, take it out on me! Even if Aston isn’t your biological child, you can’t do this to him! First, you gave him dog milk—and now, you let that monster attack him!”

Bennett’s expression darkened at what he’d just heard.

“What?! Ayla! You’re risking Aston’s life?!”

Ayla stared at the two of them in a daze. Two words echoed in her head like a curse.

‘Dog milk?’

Before she could say a word, Vayda shoved her to the ground.

“Aston drank the milk you made, and now his tummy hurts! You can’t deny it! You let that dog attack him! We all saw it!”

When she turned to Bennett, Vayda’s voice broke into sobs while tears streamed down her cheeks. “Bennett, please… let us go. I can’t take this anymore! I can’t let Ayla hurt Aston again! Please…”

Bennett helped her up gently and wrapped her in his arms, his anger melting into concern.

“Don’t be scared, Vayda. Aston will be okay. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Then, turning to Ayla, his voice hardened with accusation. “Ayla. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Ayla stared at him blankly. Her voice came out hoarse, full of disbelief. “You don’t… You don’t believe me?”

Bennett nodded toward a medical report on the table. “The lab reports have confirmed it. Who do you think you’re fooling?”

“You really think I did that?” she asked, crawling forward and trying to clutch at his pant leg—but he stepped back, letting her fall.

“That’s enough, Ayla!” he snapped, raising his hand to signal his men. “I never thought you’d stoop this low. I can’t believe you really did such a dangerous thing just to get my attention!”

‘Dangerous?’

Something inside her broke at the realization that she could explain herself over and over, but he would never believe her.

“If you really don’t believe me,” she said, her voice trembling, “then I have nothing more to say.”

Her lips curled into a bitter, exhausted smile. “Why would I hurt that kid on purpose?” she muttered to herself. “What would I even gain from that?”

“Gain?” Bennett scoffed. “With Aston sick, you could get the chance to take Vayda out of the picture. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, Ayla?”

The words landed like a knife to Ayla’s chest—sharp, brutal, and utterly unforgiving.

She stumbled back a step, staring at the man she had loved for more than ten years, her voice trembling with disbelief.

“Bennett… You actually think of me like that?”

She could no longer take it; tears finally burst from her eyes, spilling freely down her cheeks.

Only then did she realize—in Bennett’s eyes, this was the kind of woman he believed she was.

Behind him, Vayda stood silently, but a faint, almost invisible smile curved her lips.

Then, right on cue, she spoke up, her tone gentle on the surface yet laced with a quiet condescension. “Bennett, don’t be too upset. Maybe Ayla just can’t stand me. Who knows? If I left, maybe Aston wouldn’t have to suffer so much either.”

Bennett’s throat bobbed. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with the weight of his words.

“Ayla,” he finally said, his voice low, “I know you’re still holding a grudge. I’ve been planning a new wedding to make it up to you… But what you did today—you’ve really let me down.”

He paused, his jaw tightening. “This time, I have no choice. You need to learn a lesson.”

He turned coldly to the men standing behind him. “Take her to the sauna. No one opens that door without my permission. And have the dog put down.”

“No!” Ayla dropped to her knees with a thud, her hands clutching his trousers in desperation. “Don’t euthanize him! I’ll do anything, just let him live! Please, Bennett, I’m begging you!”

But he looked down at her with indifference, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of emotion.

“He’s just a dog. If I say kill him, he’ll have to die.”

She stared up at his face blankly. As she turned to the poor dog and felt as though her heart had been torn open and left to bleed.

‘Gizmo… We raised him together before. To me, he’s become family. And Bennett—he cared for him for years too. There’s no way he doesn’t understand how deep that bond ran!’

“Gizmo attacked Aston,” he stressed. “That dog has to face the consequences.”

Bennett met Ayla’s gaze, unwavering. “I know you blame Aston for ruining the wedding, but you can’t take revenge on her like this.”

“Gizmo’s just a dog,” he repeated. “I’d known he would turn out to be this disobedient. I never would’ve brought him home in the first place.”

At that, Ayla felt as though she’d been plunged into ice water.

For a split second, she couldn’t even tell—was he still talking about the dog, or was he talking about her?

He didn’t remember how it had been that dog barking in the night that alerted them when he had a fever and collapsed.

Nor did he remember how, when an enemy showed up at their door, it was Gizmo that threw himself in front of her and saved her life.

Now, all of that meant nothing. In Bennett’s eyes, the dog had become nothing more than danger and nuisance.

Perhaps it was something in her eyes—a grief too raw to hide—that gave him pause. For a fleeting moment, a complicated emotion flickered through his expression.

But it was gone in an instant.

With a simple wave of his hand, two burly men stepped forward. One took Ayla’s left arm, the other her right, each gripping her tightly.

“No! Please! Don’t do this! Let go of me! Bennett!” she cried out, struggling against them.

But her protests fell on deaf ears. They dragged her down the hallway as she thrashed and kicked, her voice growing fainter with each step.

Just before she vanished from sight, she caught one last glimpse of Vayda.

She stood still, her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, and her eyes sparkled with quiet triumph.

Following Bennett’s order, the two men threw Ayla into the sauna and slammed the door shut behind her. She heard the click of the lock, then silence as they walked away.

The air inside hit her like a wall—the temperature had been turned to its maximum. The heat pressed in from all sides, thick and stifling, choking the air from her lungs.

She pounded on the heavy wooden door with both fists, shouting hoarsely. ‘Help! Somebody help me! Please!”

But the only response she got was brutal silence and the realization that no one cared if she lived or died.

In Bennett’s world, only Vayda and Aston mattered.

The truth had been there all along, plain for anyone to see. But she ignored it—again and again.

Soon, sweat soaked through her clothes. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, her back pressed against the scorching wooden wall. Yet even then, she felt no pain.

The cold inside her heart was far more unbearable than the blistering heat around her… even when the temperature continued to rise.

Each breath became harder than the last. Her vision began to blur, and her thoughts turned foggy.

Suddenly, a stabbing pain tore through her lower abdomen.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to call out toward the door once more.

At last, one of the security replied, though reluctantly.

“Ma’am… Sir Bennett took Ma’am Vayda and Sir Aston to the amusement park. Without his orders, we can’t let you out.”

With those words, despair crashed down on Ayla.

Slowly, she closed her eyes.

“Bennett…” she whispered. “That makes ninety-nine. I’ve repaid every bit of love you ever gave me. From now on… we owe each other… nothing.”

Her voice faded to a whisper. Then—nothing at all.

Her mind drifted, and her memories spilled forth like an old film reel playing behind her eyes.

She was ten, the day they first met. He had given her a thousand paper cranes he’d folded for his mother, a silly grin lighting up his childish face.

She was eighteen, walking home alone after a party when she was kidnapped. He’d searched for her through the night, finally holding her in his arms, sobbing as he slid a ring—his family’s symbol—onto her finger.

She was twenty-two when he proposed. After she said yes, he let tears stream down his face. Even now, people still teased him for crying like a baby.

‘But that Bennett I loved… He… He’s gone.’

That was her last thought before her vision dimmed.

But just before everything went black, she saw someone—blurry, indistinct—running toward her.

And then, her head dropped to her side. And then, darkness took her.

When Ayla opened her eyes again, she was lying in a hospital bed.

A man sat at her side, silently keeping watch. She blinked a few times, trying to recognize him—but her mind came up empty.

“Baby,” he said gently, voice tight with emotion, “you’ve been through so much. It kills me to see you like this. How could they do this to you? This is my fault… I got here too late.”

Just then, the doctor entered, his expression grim. “Sir, we did everything we could. But the patient’s body was already weak, and the trauma she endured was extensive. By the time she arrived…” He hesitated. “The baby was already gone.”

Ayla’s hand moved instinctively to her stomach.

‘That tiny life—barely beginning—was gone before it ever had a chance to exist.’

The doctor left, saying Ayla had to stay in the hospital for another two days. During that time, Brynn Rafferty never once left her side. He was there through every quiet hour, every restless moment, tending to her with a steady, wordless care.

But on the third day, he finally spoke of his need to return to Bonneville. Urgent matters were waiting for him back home.

Before leaving, he gently took her hand. “You promised me you’d come back with me. Once you’ve handled everything here… call me, alright? I’ll be waiting.”

Not long after he left, another visitor appeared at her door—Bennett.

He stepped into the room, guilt written all over his face. “Hey… I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I forgot you were pregnant that day. I was just so focused on Aston. I should’ve protected you—protected our child. It’s my fault.”

He moved to sit beside her, lowering his voice. “But… what’s done is done. We’re still young. We can have another baby, right? Aston’s still little. He needs all our love. He needs a complete family.”

Ayla let out a cold, self-mocking laugh.

‘Of course. One child—Aston—is enough for him. Why did it take me so long to see it?’

Her mind drifted back to her last miscarriage, a memory she had buried deep. At the time, she’d dismissed what she heard as a fevered hallucination—an illusion brought on by pain and blood loss.

But now, the truth was horrifyingly clear.

That day, Aston had spilled oil on the stairs. She’d slipped—tumbled down from the third floor. In the blur of agony, she’d vaguely heard the doctor speaking over the phone.

In a haze of pain, she had vaguely heard the doctor speak carefully into the phone. “Sir, she suffered emotional trauma and is showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. We can…”

“Let it happen,” Bennett cut in, his voice unmistakable through the speaker.

The doctor hesitated. “She is already physically fragile, sir. If she loses her baby this time, future pregnancies may be extremely difficult.”

There was a pause. Then Bennett gave his answer, certain and final.

“One child is enough. I have Aston. As for Ayla… I believe she’ll understand.”

Even now, the memory cut like a blade. She could still feel the sting of the surgical instruments, the sharp, twisting pain in her abdomen—the brutal moment when life was torn from her body.

Beside her, Bennett gently reached for her hand. “Ayla, I know I made a terrible mistake. But once you’re better, we can try again. We’ll have a child of our own—”

“Bennett,” she interrupted, her voice flat and hollow. “You should go.”

He paused, uncertain. “Ayla, I know you’re hurting, but—”

“I said enough.” Her voice turned cold, slicing through his words like ice. There was no room left for discussion.

‘Why is he still here,’ she thought bitterly, ‘pretending to care?’

Before he could say another word, the door swung open.

Vayda stepped inside, her voice bright and breezy. “Bennett! Aston just woke up—he’s crying and calling for you!”

Then her gaze fell on Ayla. Her expression faltered, softening into a mask of concern. “Oh… what happened to her? Anyway, since you’re busy, I’ll go explain things to Aston.”

Bennett froze, caught between the two women.

A long, awkward silence stretched between them—until at last, he stood up.

Turning to Ayla, Bennett spoke gently, almost pleading. “Ayla, Aston needs me right now… Wait for me here, okay? Just a little while.”

But the moment he walked out, Ayla quietly requested her discharge papers.

Shortly after, a message came in from Brynn—her identity nullification had been successfully processed.

‘It’s time to leave.’

As she passed by one particular hospital room on her way out, laughter spilled from behind the closed door—cheerful, familiar, and sweet. Bennett’s voice. Vayda’s laughter. Aston’s giggles.

‘A happy family,’ she thought. ‘That kind of warmth… It’s been so long since I felt anything like that.’

Back at the villa, she packed with determination. The gifts Bennett had given her over the years—some extravagant, others simple and thoughtful—were all tucked away in storage boxes and left in the basement.

She didn’t take a single one with her.

As she folded the last of her clothes into a suitcase, her phone buzzed again.

It was a message from Vayda.

Attached was a photo—a polished, beaming family portrait of the three of them: Vayda, Bennett, and Aston, all smiling under perfect light.

A voice message followed. It was the photographer gushing about how perfect they looked together.

Ayla scrolled through it all lazily. Next, she blocked both Vayda and Bennett.

But she wasn’t leaving quietly. She carefully prepared three gifts—her final acts of love to Bennett.

Fifteen years—that’s how long she had known him.

‘It’s time to end it,’ she decided.

Outside, the honk of a car broke the stillness.

For the last time, she glanced around the house she’d called home for over a decade.

With her suitcase rolling behind her, she stepped through the door.

As the car pulled away, the villa slowly vanished from sight, swallowed by distance. Leanin lightly against the window, Ayla let the breeze graze her face, breathing in the unfamiliar calm that settled over her.

‘From this moment on,’ she promised herself, ‘no matter how high the mountains or how long the road, I’ll keep moving forward—for me. From now on… I don’t know any man named Bennett.’