To pay for my mom's treatment, I accidentally became his kept woman.

Adrian James—the man whose name alone could make the Capital tremble—showered me with extreme indulgence.

He remembered all my preferences. Just because I once said, "I like snow," he created an entire room of icy winter scenery in the middle of summer.

I naively thought we at least had a clean arrangement.

Until his charity birthday banquet, when his fiancée made her grand finale entrance pushing a massive cart.

On it sat nineteen luxurious birdcages—pure gold, encrusted with gemstones.

Inside each cage stood a young girl.

And every single face was seventy to eighty percent identical to mine.

My legs nearly gave out. I fled to the restroom.

"Mr. James went too far this time. Keeping a mistress so openly—does he think the Simmons family is a pushover? But Miss Simmons hit back hard. That slap echoed through the whole room."

"Shh. True love? Please. She's just a toy."

"The James-Simmons marriage alliance is set in stone. Outside women—no matter how pampered—are just collectibles. Once he's bored, they all get discarded."

Only then did I realize I had "been made the other woman."

I stumbled out, but outside the second-floor lounge, I heard the crisp crack of a slap.

"Adrian James! Do you have to humiliate me like this? Finding all these women who look like me? What are you trying to remind me of? What happened back then…"

Through the door, I felt strangely calm.

I still believed he loved me. That pampering wasn't fake. He was only using stand-ins to resist this arranged marriage—I was the one he truly wanted.

But the next second, a tender, pained voice I'd never heard before spoke: "Did your hand hurt from hitting me?"

1.

All sound blurred into static.

I took a deep breath, steadying my weakening legs. I'd just turned to leave when a figure darted out from the side, slamming hard into my shoulder.

After the shock, I instinctively shielded my lower abdomen.

The server who hit me apologized repeatedly.

I waved it off, but my heart was pounding. The spot beneath my palm was still flat—a secret I'd only confirmed days ago. I hadn't told anyone yet. Not even Adrian.

"Sis-in-law?"

I looked up. Lily James, Adrian's younger sister, was hurrying over. "Are you okay? Why is your face so pale?"

"Lily, Adrian… he has a fiancée, right?"

Lily froze, then her expression shifted to worry.

"You found out? My brother and Victoria Simmons—it was arranged between the families ages ago. But don't worry. Victoria broke off the engagement for some random guy, even got plastic surgery for him. I heard she messed herself up so badly overseas she can't even have kids anymore."

"My brother almost died for her back then. Now that she's back, he doesn't have time to do anything but hate her…"

If I hadn't heard what happened in that lounge, I might have believed it.

But I knew my place now. Victoria showing up with that birdcage stunt—wasn't it just to remind me of my status?

I just didn't expect that in Adrian's eyes, I didn't even rank as a canary.

He kept me, spoiled me, made me feel special.

And the result?

I was only a tool Adrian used to provoke his fiancée. A pawn in their war.

He used me to twist the knife in her heart. The more she bled, the more satisfied he was.

From beginning to end, the only one who'd been made the other woman was me.

Disgusting.

"But sis-in-law, if you can have a child, wouldn't your position be secure? Put some effort into it!"

My heart turned to ice.

I had once imagined that if we had a child, it would be the proof of our love. Now it could only be used as a bargaining chip to secure my place.

I won't allow him to be born into this kind of disgraceful relationship.

That night, Adrian didn't come back on time.

Not until 2:00 a.m. did he walk into the bedroom, habitually reaching to put an arm around my shoulder.

"Still not asleep?"

I turned sideways to avoid him and got straight to the point. "Adrian, Victoria Simmons is your fiancée, right?"

The air suddenly froze.

"Who told you that?"

He finally spoke, not denying it.

My heart sank completely, and the last bit of hope I had shattered into pieces.

"So it's true."

In an instant I tasted rust in my throat, and the humiliation took shape.

"So you already had an engagement with Victoria, yet you let me be like a clown—still stupidly thinking that between us, at least it was a clean relationship?"

A trace of impatience flashed across Adrian's brow.

"Serena, what's between me and her has nothing to do with you. Everything you have now—isn't it good enough?"

"Nothing to do with me?"

I was so furious I laughed, but my voice was shaking badly. "She's your publicly acknowledged fiancée! Then what am I?"

"Something to pass the time when you're lonely? Or…"

I looked at the million-dollar dress he gave me, thought of that roomful of falling snow and romance, and my heart felt like it was being cut over and over by a dull knife.

"Or a stand-in you use to provoke her?"

"Enough!"

Adrian stepped closer. His tall figure loomed over me, full of oppression. "Serena, I give you money. I've given you a life other people wouldn't dare to imagine. What else are you dissatisfied with?"

His words lashed me until I was torn apart.

Back then I had no way out, kneeling and begging him to save my mom. But that didn't mean he could put me in such a disgraceful situation.

"Yes, I did it for money."

I lifted my chin, not letting the tears fall. "But I didn't sell myself to be the other woman!"

At least, the me from before truly thought Adrian sincerely loved me.

But being used hurt a hundred times more than being forced into being the other woman!

I thought of the first time I met him—on the steps by the back entrance of a mall.

I was crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath, my mind full of that astronomical number the doctor quoted, and my mom's powerless look on the hospital bed.

Then Adrian, passing by, stopped in front of me. "Can crying solve the problem?"

What happened later followed naturally. He gave me money, gave me a status enough to establish myself by his side, took me in and out of all kinds of occasions, never hiding his affection for me.

He remembered that I casually said I liked a certain painter.

Even with a fever close to 104 degrees, he still took a longer route just to bring back that artist's personally signed book for me.

"Am I still not good enough to you?"

Adrian's voice yanked me out of my memories. "Tell me—what else do I need to do?"

I opened my mouth, not knowing what I was saying.

Yes, he treated me well.

So well that it made me forget who I was. So well that it made me give rise to delusions I shouldn't have had.

But of that "good," how much was truly for me, and how much was to torment another woman?

"You treat me very well."

I finally found my voice, raised my hand, and pointed at Adrian. "But your shirt isn't the one from this morning."

Adrian's gaze shifted slightly.

My eyes dropped to the web between his right thumb and index finger—a clear, deep circle of bite marks.

"This wasn't bitten by me, either."

After a long time—maybe only a few seconds.

I said, "Adrian, let's end this."

I wasn't acting out of spite, and even less was I testing him.

I knew very well what kind of status Adrian had—how could such a powerful family allow him to mess around with his own marriage?

Rather than getting kicked out in the end, I might as well leave sensibly.

Adrian didn't speak. The warmth in his eyes simply froze over.

Then he laughed—a soft, humorless sound.

"Serena Jenner. This is the birthday gift you're giving me?"

I saw the storm brewing in his gaze. My body shrank back instinctively, but I forced myself to continue. "You promised me. You said if I ever felt uncomfortable, if I wanted to end things, I could walk away anytime."

"I'm walking away."

A long silence. Adrian lit a cigarette, and a suffocating pressure filled the room.

His tone stayed casual, almost bored: "Sure, you can walk away."

"But your mother's care—can that walk away too?"

I stared at him, like I was truly seeing him for the first time.

After I got together with Adrian, the nearly one million in expenses for Mom at the nursing home all came out of his account. The best specialists, top-of-the-line equipment—he arranged everything.

So in his eyes, I'd forfeited the right to leave long ago.

The quiet threat he was making now? It was no different from grinding my dignity into dust beneath his heel.

But my reaction seemed to satisfy him.

He flicked the ash, his voice dripping with indulgence. "Serena, don't be stupid. Stay by my side, and your mother gets the best treatment. You keep the life you have now. Some things—make a scene of them, and nobody wins."

He stubbed out the cigarette, turned, and left the villa.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

On impulse, I opened social media, looking for something—anything—that would make me give up for good.

Like fate was mocking me, Victoria's latest post appeared first.

The photo showed an indoor winter wonderland. She was dressed for some gala event, elegant as a swan princess.

The caption was simple: "Merry Christmas, my exclusive magic."

Posted three minutes ago.

Who else would spare no expense to create an indoor snowfall in the most expensive district in the city, just to make her smile?

What I had, she had too.

The snow that once moved me to tears became a slap in the face.

The next morning, I came downstairs with swollen eyes—and stopped cold.

The living room was piled high with gift boxes.

An assistant stepped forward, clearly having waited for some time. "Mrs. James, good morning. Mr. James had these delivered. Please have a look."

Mrs. James.

The words pricked like a needle.

I stood frozen, staring at the expensive gifts, my thoughts spiraling.

"Mrs. James? There must be some mistake."

But the assistant only smiled politely. "That's what Mr. James calls you. He also said he'll personally pick you up for the weekend family dinner."

My fingertips trembled.

My heart—the one I thought had gone cold and dead—rippled pathetically back to life.

This small gesture blurred everything again, like we'd rewound to better days.

He took me to an auction, high-profile, no attempt to hide me. Victoria was there too.

She clearly wanted the first item—a brooch—badly. Her paddle kept rising, bid after bid.

That brooch was something I'd had my eye on too.

While I hesitated over whether to raise my paddle, Adrian signaled directly for the top bid—buying it at an overwhelming price.

The room erupted in murmurs.

Victoria's hand froze midair, her face draining of color as she stared at Adrian in disbelief.

But he acted like she didn't exist. When the item was brought over, he handed it to me casually.

"It suits you."

I gripped the box. My chest burned, and something wild and hopeful surged up inside me.

At that moment, I thought: maybe I really could hope for a real place in his life.

Maybe I could finally tell him the truth—that a little life was already growing inside me.