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.

"Miss Bennett!"

Just as I was about to leave, a doctor called out to me.

I remembered him—half a month ago, Ethan Walker had been feeling unwell, and I’d dragged him in for a full physical. This was the very doctor who handled his checkup.

Ethan had been so wrapped up in Isabella Reed lately, I was sure he’d already forgotten about it.

"Mr. Walker’s test results are all in—everything is normal. But you mentioned he’d had a liver transplant, so we paid extra attention to that. Based on our examination, he’s never had any liver surgery at all…"

The world tilted beneath me.

The rest of the doctor’s words blurred into nothing.

I headed to confront Ethan, but when I reached Isabella’s hospital room, the truth came at me from behind the door.

"Ethan, Claire seems really upset. What if she decides to divorce you?"

"Don’t worry, she won’t."

"Claire Bennett might not have many other strengths, but she’s more obedient than a dog—never questions a word I say. She still believes I donated my liver to her. As long as I act a little pitiful, she’ll soften immediately."

"You’re the smart one—coming up with the idea to swap out the real donor forms for fake ones, making her think you were her savior so she’d devote herself to you for years."

"She’s the Bennett family’s heiress. Keep a tight grip on her, and we’ll never have to worry about resources for the rest of our lives."

So that was it.

Outside the door, my tears fell freely.

I’d been wrong.

So, so wrong.

Ethan Walker had never donated part of his liver to me.

I had approached him out of gratitude, chasing him with unwavering devotion, clearing every obstacle from his path.

But from the very beginning, it had all been a lie—a carefully planned scheme.

He had used me as nothing more than a vessel for him and his lover’s child.

Like a leech, once he latched on, he wouldn’t stop until he had drained me dry.

No. I would not let him succeed.

I wandered for a long time before finally calling my family back in New York.

"Dad, I accept your request. I’ll come back to take over the company."

"Also… I want to terminate the pregnancy. Please arrange it for me."

Since I had decided to divorce, there could be no half measures.

My father moved quickly, sending the Bennett Group’s chief legal advisor to Seattle to assist me. Robert Collins, who usually handled only corporate cases, took to the divorce proceedings with equal skill.

With his help, it took me only a week to wrap everything up.

Ethan never once came home during that time.

When it was done, I boarded a flight to New York.

The moment I landed, I went straight to the hospital.

At six months, I couldn’t have a simple abortion—it had to be an induction, a procedure that would take a heavy toll on my body.

My parents didn’t ask a single question. They simply held me and said in a choked voice, "Sweetheart, you must have suffered more than we can imagine. Sleep now—when you wake, everything will be better."

A parent’s embrace is always the warmest harbor.

My nose stung, and I nodded hard.

As the anesthesia spread through me, my consciousness began to fade.

—

Meanwhile, a few days later, Martha Walker returned home, carrying an armful of expensive “pregnancy tonics” she had bought from her so-called master.

But when she reached the door, she couldn’t get in—the code kept showing as incorrect.

Ethan, who hadn’t been home in days, got her call and rushed back with Isabella in tow.

Still, the door wouldn’t open.

He tried calling me several times, but I didn’t answer.

"That damn Claire Bennett is up to something," Martha muttered, kicking the door in frustration.

Suddenly, the door swung open from the inside.