Jade's face was flushed—not with embarrassment, but victory. "Do you really think a marriage license can tie you and Connor down forever?"

She stepped closer, her tone dripping with cruelty.

"Connor said this charade won't last more than three months. Once he secures the company shares, he'll divorce you."

"I know," I replied calmly.

Jade froze. She hadn't expected agreement.

It wasn't just that Connor wanted to divorce me—I didn't want him anymore, either.

"You've finally thought it through?" she sneered. "Or are you planning to make another scene and slit your wrists for sympathy?"

To force Connor into this marriage, I had attempted suicide four times.

Jacob Delgado and my parents couldn't bear to watch me suffer, so they'd used the Delgado Shares as leverage, forcing Connor to bow his head.

I offered a bleak smile. "You and Connor are the perfect match, Jade. I'm just the clown."

Jade let out a sharp, cold laugh. Then her hand flew across my face.

"Don't think playing victim will get us to forgive you!"

I wiped blood from the corner of my mouth. "I wouldn't dare."

I never dared hope for anyone's forgiveness. I only wanted my Wanwan to live.

"However," I added, my voice steady, "for these next three months, Connor is mine. What do you have to say about that?"

Jade's eyes reddened with rage. She burst into tears and fled the room.

Connor instinctively tried to rush after her, but his injured leg failed him. He couldn't leave the bed.

I seized the moment. I pushed him back down, unraveled his silk tie, and bound his wrists to the headboard.

I was about to "humiliate" him.

Connor roared, eyes bloodshot with fury. "Samantha, don't you find yourself disgusting?"

Disgusting?

Perhaps. In his eyes, I was soiled goods because I had slept with a stranger. But wasn't that the very "favor" he and Jade had orchestrated for me?

After he finished—wearing an expression of utter torment, as if he were a flower being trampled by a beast—I calmly helped him pull up his pants.

He kept cursing me. I turned a deaf ear.

I picked up the insulated lunch box from the table, sat by the bed, and brought a spoonful of soup to his lips.

Connor shoved my arm violently, knocking the thermos over. Hot soup splashed across my chest.

I blinked, feeling the heat soak through my clothes as tears rolled silently down into the dark, wet collar of my shirt.

Without a word, I crouched down and cleaned the mess from the floor.

"Connor, Grandpa will only sign over the shares if I get pregnant."

I dropped the bomb quietly.

Connor glared at me with pure hatred. "In your dreams."

"Other than Jade, I will never have a child with any woman."

He'd said this to me no fewer than nine times.

I already knew he wouldn't agree, which was why I had to force him. Today was my ovulation window.

But he was cruel to the end. Before leaving the house, he sent his assistant to force-feed me emergency contraceptive pills.

His handsome face didn't carry the slightest trace of affection.

"Samantha, you have to atone for the mistakes you made in the past."

The medicine was extremely bitter. It stuck in my throat, triggering my gag reflex, but I swallowed it under his watch.

The moment he was gone, I rushed to a corner where he couldn't see. I jammed my fingers down my throat, retching violently until I threw up everything—the pills, bile, the sour water from my stomach.

To ensure he wouldn't have to share a bed with me again, Connor called Jade to the house.

With his leg injured, she became his personal nurse.

The two of them were inseparable, sickeningly sweet. When I was present, they ramped up the intimacy just to spite me.

I cannot eat spicy food. Yet Connor ordered the nanny to cook only the heavy, chili-laden dishes that he and Jade preferred. I was left with nothing but a bowl of plain white rice.

Connor had a severe obsession with cleanliness. His intimate apparel had to be hand-washed, and he forbade the nanny from touching them. He specifically named me for the task.

In the past, I would have done it gladly.

Even though it was foolish, it was a service I had been willing to provide.

But to humiliate me further, he threw Jade's lace underwear into the pile for me to wash as well.

He installed Jade in the master bedroom—the room that belonged to me and him—and banished me to the guest room next door.

Every night, I tossed and turned, listening to the sounds of their pleasure filtering through the wall.

To quell his anger, I endured it all without a word.

I hid under my blanket and cried in secret until sleep finally took me.

Just a little longer, I told myself. As long as I get pregnant, everything will be fine.

I clung to that hope like a lifeline. It was all that kept me standing.

Somehow, word of Connor's cruelty reached his grandfather. Jacob didn't hesitate—he evicted Jade immediately and forced Connor to stand under the scorching sun for three hours, cast and all.

Naturally, Connor blamed me.

That night, he ordered me into the master bedroom. Not for reconciliation. He drugged me, arranged my limp body into degrading poses, and photographed every moment.

"Try anything behind my back again," he said, holding up the phone, "and these go viral."

I pleaded until my throat was raw. Only then did he agree to delete them.

The aftermath broke me. By the second night, I was burning with a fever of 104. The nanny tried to take me to the ER, but Connor refused. To protect his reputation, he locked me in the bridal suite and told the staff to let me "fend for myself."

By the third night, I'd survived the fever, but dehydration set in. I was retching violently, purging fluids I didn't have.

Terrified, the nanny called Connor.

He answered—but instead of words, the line filled with wet, breathless sounds. Him and Jade. He let me listen before the nanny could even speak.

"The fever's gone, isn't it?" he scoffed when she finally managed to stammer something.

"But sir—"

"She's faking it. Again."

Darkness crept into my vision, but the pain in my chest cut sharper than the illness. Just as I summoned strength for one last plea, Jade's voice came through, whining and sweet.

"Connor, baby... don't bother with her. Come back to bed."

He cursed and hung up.

The last thing I heard was the nanny screaming.

"Mr. Winfield! Help! She's collapsed!"

I woke in a hospital bed. Julian was there, his lips pressed to my temple, his eyes dark with suppressed rage.

"Are you still determined to destroy yourself for him?"

"Soon," I whispered. "Less than two months."

His jaw tightened. "You almost died, Sam."

"When it's over... I'll come back. I promise."

He looked defeated, but nodded. He'd never been able to deny me anything. "If anything happens to you or Wanwan, I'll handle it. Just come home."

"Thank you, Julian."

He was my adoptive brother, but he loved me the way my parents had—wholly, unconditionally. He was my safety net.

When I returned to the villa, Connor was waiting.

A fresh scratch marred his face—likely from his grandfather—but the hostility was gone, replaced by chilling calm.

"Where were you?"

"The hospital. Severe dehydration."

"The nanny said Julian took you." He crossed the room and seized my wrist, grip bruising.

"He's my brother. He didn't want to watch me die."

"He should know his place. Have you seen the headlines?"

So that was it. Not concern—fear for the Delgado reputation. He could burn down the house, but I wasn't allowed to light a candle.

"I won't do it again," I murmured, head lowered.

He sneered, tilting my chin up. "Tell me, Sam. Once we divorce, is Julian going to pick up my scraps? Marry you?"

"Connor, stop. I love you. I won't divorce you unless you force me to."

He chuckled darkly. "You really are pathetic for me, aren't you?"