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.