The year I loved him the most, my mother forced me to break up with him. Ethan Carter threw my mother into the Red-Light District.

The year I hated him the most, I crippled his father and forced him to sign a settlement.

That same year, a young woman showed up, heavily pregnant.

“Heaven has already punished him by making him marry someone he doesn’t love. What more do you want?”

I turned my head toward Ethan.

“Really?”

In his half-minute of silence, I already knew the answer.

I dropped the iron rod onto the ground.

“Choose—do you want her miscarriage or her death?”

Without hesitation, he looked at his bodyguard. “Get rid of her baby.”

I slapped him hard across the face.

“I want you to do it yourself!”

…

Ethan clenched his fists tightly, veins bulging at his temples.

“Anna Moore, that’s enough.”

“Killing has its limits. She’s still my woman and my flesh and blood!”

Grace Miller, who had been trembling moments ago, now leaned arrogantly against his chest.

Her hands were pale and flawless, unlike mine—covered in calluses from years of gripping knives and guns by Ethan’s side.

Clearly, he had kept her well-sheltered, so ignorant that she dared to provoke me.

“Sis, you hear that, don’t you? Ethan would never hurt me.”

“You’ve been married to him for five years and haven’t laid a single egg. How dare you touch me, the one who can carry on the Carter bloodline? We’re actually giving you a way out—”

Her words ended in a scream.

By the time Ethan snapped back, Grace was already on the floor, blood pooling beneath her, a dart lodged in her belly and another in her knees.

I leaned back in my chair, took a deep drag from my cigarette, and admired the sight.

“Seems Ethan never told you— I only know how to climb up, never down. I hate stepping off pedestals.”

“I dared to cripple his own father. What’s that bastard in your belly compared to that?”

The bodyguard checked briefly and told me Grace had miscarried.

“Oh, really? Then dig it out and let me admire what kind of bastard our dear Mr. Carter left behind.”

“Anna!”

The cold edge of a dagger pressed against my throat, Ethan’s eyes bloodshot with rage.

“Don’t unleash your madness on Grace! She’s not like us monsters. She’s already lost the baby. Do you really have to go this far?!”

The last time he had been this furious was when his mother, disgusted by his ruthless ways, forced me to break up with him. To keep me, he had thrown her into the Red-Light District, driving her insane.

The day I crippled his father, Ethan wasn’t angry—he was thrilled.

“Yes, Anna, that’s it. Be as crazy as me, as blood-soaked as me. Then no one can say we’re not a perfect match.”

And now, he’d fallen for some pure little angel?

My fingertip traced the edge of the blade as I laughed.

“I gave you the chance. You wouldn’t do it yourself. Since husband and wife are one, I’ll do it for you. Tsk. Now your little darling has no way out—except to crawl like a dog.”

“Judging from the look on your face, Mr. Carter, are you going to fight for your sweetheart? Don’t you dare back down.”

The sound of shattering glass filled the room.

Smiling, I locked eyes with Ethan and pressed a sharp shard against his elbow, slicing through skin.

The room reeked of blood.

His pained gasps, mixed with Grace’s screams, were music to my ears.

Several of his men raised their guns, all black barrels aimed at me.

I only shrugged, unfazed, as my hand inched closer toward his artery.

“Tell me, Ethan—have you lost enough blood to write an obituary for your bastard?”

Ethan’s black eyes bore into me, unreadable.

Moments later, the knife clattered to the floor.

He laughed, then turned and slapped his men across the face.

“You think you’re worthy of pointing a gun at my wife? Put those down!”

He glanced at the gaping wound on his arm, almost down to the bone, then looked back at me.

“Got it all out of your system yet?

Anna, we’re still husband and wife. I’ll let it go this time. Next time you go crazy, think carefully about who you’re targeting.”

Mr. Harris came forward with a tray, carrying the fetus that had just been taken from Grace.

I smashed the tray into Ethan’s face.

“Take your dog and your bastard—and get out.”

Ethan scooped Grace into his arms, his eyes flicking to the thin cut across my neck.

I had been so exhilarated earlier that I nearly lost my chance to slice him open myself.

The blade had left a shallow red mark across my throat.

He reached out as if to touch it, but I pulled away.

“Some dirty diseases can be transmitted through blood. Don’t contaminate me.”

He ignored the curse in my words.

Holding Grace, he kicked apart the cake we’d made for our wedding anniversary, grinding the tiny figurines beneath his heel before leaving without looking back.

At the doorway, though, he turned to remind the butler:

“Make sure Mrs. Carter’s neck is treated with medicine. Don’t let it get wet—she’ll get an infection.”

I stared at the iron rod on the floor. Ethan had still refused to strike me himself.

Which meant, for us, there would be no future.

That night, on our wedding anniversary, Ethan sent a fleet of helicopters and gathered top national surgeons to save another woman. The story even made headlines on the Times Square billboards.

On the screen, he appeared, eyes brimming with concern, cradling Grace as though she were some fragile treasure.

As the butler cleaned the wreckage, his face twisted with anger.

“Mr. Carter went too far this time. You built his empire with him from nothing, gave up so much for him, and you spent an entire day and night making that cake—yet he destroyed it for another woman…”

The cream, red wine, and blood had blended into a nauseating mess.

I spoke flatly:

“It’s fine. Things that get dirty only deserve to be thrown away.”

The doorbell rang. A delivery guy from Uber Eats dropped off a grotesque bouquet made of used condoms.

Holding back his disgust, he handed me his phone, saying the sender required video proof of delivery.

I took it. Grace appeared on the screen, smiling smugly.

“Like my gift? Feels good, spending your wedding anniversary alone, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t say I don’t pity you. Let these keep you company. After all, they smell like Ethan. Don’t be shy—my trash can is full of them.”

“Thanks to you hurting me, Ethan dotes on me even more. He swore he won’t let our baby’s death be in vain. You’ll pay the price!”

She flaunted their intimate photos, eyes alight with madness.

“Ethan says I’m his angel. So Anna, do yourself a favor and step aside. A mad dog like you only belongs in hell!”

At her words, I chuckled softly.

“An angel? How unfortunate. Because an angel who only knows how to spread her legs is unworthy of the title Mrs. Carter.”

Ethan’s warning that I would pay the price wasn’t idle talk.

A few days later, I slipped into my favorite dress, perfected my makeup, ready to welcome back the man I loved most at the airport.

But the bodyguard called, his voice frantic:

“Mrs. Moore, Mr. Carter just stormed in with his men and took your Rosary Beads. He said he’s giving them to Grace as her release gift. We tried to stop him—we were beaten.”

I tracked Ethan down at the suburban villa in New Jersey.

It had once been his wedding gift to me. Now, it had been turned into their love nest.

The décor had been completely redone in Grace’s style, even the trees in the yard trimmed into the shape of two people kissing.

When I arrived, they were grilling in the garden, feeding each other mouth-to-mouth.

Grace spotted me and looped her arm through Ethan’s.

“Oh, sis, you’re here. Finally realized Ethan cares more about me? Couldn’t stand being ignored anymore, so you came to apologize?”

“Or maybe… you came for this?”

She stroked the Rosary Beads around her wrist with pride.

“I heard you spent a fortune—over a billion—to buy this. Must be precious, right? But Ethan loves me so much, worried about my nightmares, he gave it to me for comfort.”

“And this villa too. He gave it to me as compensation.”

Ethan pinched her nose affectionately, like she was a mischievous child.

“Anna, control your people. It’s bad enough you laid hands on me, but they nearly hurt Grace. If it happens again, I’ll feed them to the dogs.”

“As for the villa and the Rosary Beads—consider them your apology to Grace. Stop your madness.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Once, he had gone to every extreme to make me as insane as he was.

Every time I lost control, he’d beam with satisfaction, even delivering my enemies straight to me for torment.

And now, he despised my madness?

I pulled documents from my bag and flung them in his face.

“Ethan Carter, open your damn eyes.”

“That’s not a Rosary Bead. That’s our dead child!”

Back then, when Ethan had been kidnapped by rivals, I was eight months pregnant. I led men straight into their base.

They cut my baby—and my womb—out of me, turning my child into Rosary Beads.

Feigning death, I slit the enemy’s throat as my final act.

But the Beads vanished, no one knew where.

Ethan froze, staring at the papers for a long time before glancing at Grace.

“Grace, I’ll find you another, better Rosary Bead. This one…”

“No! You heard the seller. That child’s birth horoscope was unique, destined, sacred. Made into Rosary Beads, it brings peace and fertility. Nothing else could compare!”

“You promised—you’d make it up to me for losing my baby. I want this one. I don’t want nightmares anymore.”

“The doctor said my injuries were too severe, that it might be impossible to conceive again. Only this Rosary Bead can help me. Ethan, I want our love to have a child.”

Tears welled in Grace’s eyes.

And once she cried, Ethan was always on her side.

He turned to me coldly.

“The child has been dead so long. Having those Beads won’t change anything. Better Grace keep them than let them rot underground.”

“Ethan, don’t forget—that was your child too. All these years I’ve searched, desperate to lay him to rest. You know what I’ve sacrificed!”

His enemy had died with the secret, never telling me who had bought them.

Rubbing his temples in frustration, Ethan’s voice grew impatient.

“It’s just a dead thing. Why cling so tightly? If you want a child, wait until Grace conceives. I’ll even have it call you godmother.”

“As the father, I have the right to decide. And since Grace’s nightmares and miscarriages were caused by you, if your child’s bones can atone for you—then so be it.”