When I was eighteen, I accidentally took the wrong cold medicine, which triggered acute liver failure. I was lucky enough to survive thanks to a kind stranger who donated part of their liver.

Donor information was supposed to be strictly confidential, but since my family owned the hospital, I used some connections to find out who it was.

Before then, I only knew Ethan Walker as a top student who’d earned a special scholarship for his outstanding grades.

After learning the truth, I began pursuing him.

I chased Ethan for four years. He treated me well but always refused to be in a relationship.

Then, at our college graduation ceremony, he suddenly proposed to me in front of the entire student body.

Overjoyed and touched, I said yes immediately.

Ignoring my parents’ objections, I left New York with him and moved to Seattle to help him start his business.

I never imagined that the proposal I cherished so dearly was nothing but a petty move to spite the woman he truly loved.

It made the years I had devoted to him without regret seem like the act of a complete fool.

When Ethan graduated, he had nothing—not a penny to his name. But in just five years, he became one of Seattle’s rising tech stars.

He thought it was all thanks to his talent, not realizing that I had been feeding him resources from behind the scenes.

Now, without my support, I’d like to see how long it takes for his true colors to show.

When I returned home that day, I hadn’t even stepped through the door before I heard a crisp, bell-like laugh from inside.

A woman sat on Ethan’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck, laughing so hard she shook.

I stared at his hand resting possessively on her waist, my mind going blank.

In five years of marriage, apart from the routine marital duties in bed, Ethan had never touched me willingly.

I had thought he was simply reserved and shy.

Now I knew—it was just because he didn’t love me.

Faced with the woman he truly adored, he could be tender, clingy, and affectionate.

When they saw me, neither of them showed the slightest guilt.

Ethan said casually, “Perfect timing—you’re back. Go make dinner, we have a guest. Keep it light.”

He spoke to me like a servant giving orders, and I almost forgot that before we were married, I had been a pampered young lady who had never lifted a finger in the kitchen.

The woman on his lap smiled openly and greeted me. “Claire, it’s been a long time. Do you remember me?”

How could I not?

Isabella Reed, Columbia University’s beauty queen.

The dream girl of countless admirers.

And the untouchable “white moonlight” Ethan could never have—until now.

"Don’t get the wrong idea," Isabella said sweetly. "I had a bout of low blood sugar, and Ethan kindly carried me upstairs."

Just looking at the two of them made me feel sick. I ignored them and headed to the bedroom to grab my things and leave.

But when I opened the door, everything inside had changed.

All of my belongings were gone.

Even the bed had been replaced.

I glared at Ethan, my voice shaking with anger. “Do you have anything to say about this?”

"Isabella just got back from abroad. Her place isn’t ready yet, so she’s staying here for a few days. The guest room’s too small for her, so I moved your things there instead."

"You can share it with my mom."

She’s uncomfortable, so I’m the one who has to move out?

I sneered. “Did every hotel in Seattle shut down overnight?”

Isabella’s expression faltered. She bit her lip, eyes welling up with tears. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Ethan told me you wouldn’t mind, but I guess I should leave…”

Seeing her about to go, Ethan panicked.

"Claire Bennett, since when have you been so petty? Isabella’s just staying a few days—do you really have to be so sarcastic?"

"This is my home. I don’t agree to it."

"The house is mine. I decide who lives here. If you don’t like it, you can get out."

A sharp pain pierced my chest.

When he first started his business, he hit wall after wall, struggling so badly that he couldn’t even afford the rent.

I couldn’t bear to see him so discouraged, so I bought this house—and to cheer him up, I even put his name on the deed.

And now, because the title was in his name, he thought he could throw me out.

"Ethan, Claire is still pregnant. Don’t make things harder for her because of me. If she doesn’t like me here, then I’ll leave."

"Pregnant, so what? Don’t think that just because you’ve got something in your belly you can throw your weight around."

"No—you’re not leaving! If anyone goes, it’s her!"

In the middle of their argument, Isabella Reed pressed a hand to her forehead and collapsed in a dainty swoon.

Ethan panicked and shoved me.

My lower back slammed into the edge of the table behind me, and a stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. My face went instantly pale.

"Ethan Walker!" My voice was hoarse. "My stomach… it hurts."

"If your stomach hurts, go see a doctor. What do you want me to do? Isabella’s low blood sugar is acting up again—she needs to rest!"

With that, he scooped her into his arms and rushed her into the bedroom.

Moments later, muffled, intimate sounds drifted out from inside.

In the end, it was a passing neighbor who saw me collapse in the living room and rushed me to the hospital.

When I woke again, Ethan was sitting at my bedside. Seeing my eyes open, he teared up.

"Honey, thank God you’re okay."

I just looked at him in silence.

"I’m sorry. I must have lost my mind earlier—I didn’t mean to lose my temper. Will you forgive me?"

His earlier cruelty was gone, replaced with the familiar façade of the perfect husband.

But all I felt was exhaustion.

"Ethan Walker, let’s get a divorce."

His eyes widened. "Just because I let Isabella stay in the house for a few days, you want to divorce me?"

"Yes."

"Don’t joke around. We have a baby on the way."

His hand reached toward my slightly rounded belly.

Right then, the baby kicked, making him flinch in surprise before his face lit up with joy.

"See? He’s moving. The baby is innocent. Even if you hate me, would you really let him be born without a father?"

"Don’t overthink it. Just give birth safely, and afterward, you can vent your anger however you want, okay?"

The mention of the child only deepened my disgust.

The life growing inside me was the offspring of him and Isabella—someone who had nothing to do with me—yet it greedily drained my body’s strength.

Its very existence was a cruel reminder that I was a living joke.

No wonder Ethan was suddenly being so conciliatory—he still needed me to bring his child into the world.

I was about to speak when a middle-aged woman stormed in, her voice sharp and venomous.

"You heartless woman! You nearly caused my precious grandson to be miscarried!"

It was Ethan’s mother, Martha Walker.

"I went to a master and got this blessed water—it’ll keep my grandson healthy. Drink it now."

The liquid in the bowl was pitch-black and reeked with a nauseating stench. I felt sick before it even came close to my lips.

Over the years, she’d forced me to drink countless bizarre concoctions in hopes of making me pregnant.

Back then, with my heart full of Ethan, I endured the disgust for his sake.

But now, having seen his true face, there was no way I’d drink it.

"Take it away. I’m not drinking that."

"I got this for my grandson—whether you want to or not, you’re drinking it!"

Martha’s eyes bulged with fury as she grabbed my jaw, trying to force it down my throat.

She had spent most of her life doing farm work in the countryside—broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, and strong as an ox. I was no match for her. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t fight her off as she forced the foul “blessed water” down my throat.

"I’m warning you—if anything happens to my grandson, I’ll skin you alive!"

Ethan Walker just stood by, watching silently.

It wasn’t until Martha Walker finally left that he gently reached out to smooth my disheveled hair, his voice soft and coaxing.

"Let’s not talk about divorce anymore. In this lifetime, I’ll never divorce you."

"Be good, take care of yourself, and once you’ve had the baby, I’ll take you to Norway. Haven’t you always wanted to see the Northern Lights? I’ll go with you then."

"In a month, it’ll be our fifth wedding anniversary. I’ve prepared a surprise for you—you’ll be so happy when you see it."

"Ethan Walker, you make me sick. I don’t want anything. I just want a divorce."

I was seething, but he only thought I was throwing a tantrum. He reached to pull me into his arms for comfort.

I sidestepped and grabbed the vase beside me, hurling it at him.

Ethan’s reflexes were quick—he took two steps back, and I missed. My weakened body, carried by the momentum, toppled off the hospital bed.

Pain crashed over me in waves, as though every bone in my body had shifted out of place. My abdomen twisted with sharp cramps.

"Claire!!"

Ethan’s voice wavered in panic. "Are you—are you okay? I’ll get the doctor."

He bolted out of the room.

I curled on the floor, my body growing colder by the second.

Minute after minute passed, but Ethan never came back with a doctor.

In the end, it was a passing nurse who heard my faint cries for help, screaming for assistance as they rushed me into surgery.

I stayed in the hospital for three days.

In those three days, Ethan never once showed his face.

Instead, my phone lit up daily with intimate photos from Isabella Reed.

When I was discharged, I ran into her in the hallway, wearing a patient gown. Her cheeks were rosy—she didn’t look sick in the slightest.

Seeing me, she lifted her bandaged finger. "I just nicked myself cutting an apple that day. Ethan was so worried he rushed home to slice the fruit for me."

Her smugness was laughable—and pitiful.

So that’s why Ethan had never come back that day—he’d been in a hurry to fawn over his beloved.

Isabella stepped closer, her breath warm against my ear.

"So what if you’re the highborn daughter of the Bennett family? Ethan’s heart belongs to me. Be smart—have the baby and then get out of his life."

"If Ethan really wanted to marry you, you wouldn’t need to be here threatening me now."

"He’s just playing with you—you know that, don’t you?"

A mocking smile curved my lips as I watched the calm on her face begin to crack.

Then, suddenly, she let out a sharp scream and collapsed to the floor in a dramatic heap.

Clutching her cheek, she looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Miss Bennett, I only wanted to explain that Ethan and I are innocent—how could you hit me?"

"Isabella!"

Ethan rushed over, scooping her into his arms. His voice was a furious growl.

"I already apologized to you—how can you still hound her like this? She’s so delicate—how could she handle a slap from you?"

"Delicate? More delicate than a woman six months pregnant?"

"…"

For once, Ethan had no answer.

As I watched him walk away holding Isabella, the onlookers whispered and pointed at me.

It felt as if countless knives were stabbing into my heart—each one deep, each one bleeding.