A knock at the door. Vincent's voice followed.

"Sophia, are you asleep?"

I wiped my tears, forced my face into place, and stayed silent.

When I didn't answer, he just walked in. No hesitation.

Our eyes met. Shock flickered in his, but he covered it fast, slipping into his usual act. "You're still awake? Why didn't you answer me?"

I smiled, bright and easy. "I was watching videos. Didn't hear you. Hey, what's Andrew doing here so late?"

Behind him, Andrew was already sweating. "Uh... well, you know... Vincent and I haven't caught up in a while, so I stopped by. You don't mind, right?"

"Of course not. You're always welcome." I grinned.

My clueless act seemed to put Vincent at ease. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around me. "Did you drink the milk? It's good for sleep."

Milk laced with sleeping pills. Yeah, real helpful.

I sneered inside but kept up the act. "Yeah, but my stomach was off. I threw up."

Vincent tensed. "Threw up? Are you... pregnant? Andrew, check her."

Andrew frowned. "I'm not a scanner, man. I can't tell just by looking. Sophia, go to the hospital tomorrow for a test."

"Okay."

"Thank you for everything. I love you." Vincent pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, all tenderness and warmth. But inside, I felt nothing but ice.

If I faked a pregnancy, I wouldn't have to give blood tonight, right?

"Andrew, I'll hang out another time. I want to stay with Sophia," Vincent said, sending him away before crawling into bed beside me, holding me like he was comforting me.

I shut my eyes but stayed on high alert. If I fell asleep, he might draw my blood again.

The man I married was nothing more than a monster in disguise.

I had to leave him. Quietly. Completely.

As Vincent's soft breathing turned into light snores, I carefully reached for his phone, pressing his finger against the sensor to unlock it.

His messages with Emma Ortega popped up immediately.

Vincent: [Good news—Sophia might be pregnant. Once we get the baby's umbilical cord blood, you'll be cured.]

Emma: [Really? That's amazing! When I'm healthy again, what do you plan to do with her and the child?]

Vincent: [Don't worry. Once everything is over, I'll send them away. They won't interfere with your life.]

Emma: [She loves you so much. Will she really leave willingly?]

Vincent: [If she refuses, I'll threaten her with her family and friends.]

Emma: [Vincent, you're so good to me... I'm sorry for dragging you down, forcing you to marry a woman you don't love.]

Vincent: [As long as you're happy and healthy, I'd do anything.]

After tucking me in with sweet words, he turned right around and whispered love to someone else.

I opened his photo album. The screen filled with images of him and Emma—countless moments of their happiness together.

Digging deeper, I found his business contracts. Nearly all his major deals were with the Ortega family. He'd showered Emma with luxury properties, jewelry, designer bags... but that wasn't the worst part.

His office sat at the top of his skyscraper. Right next door? Emma's private recovery suite, stocked with state-of-the-art medical equipment. A helicopter on the rooftop stood ready to rush her to the hospital at a moment's notice.

Love is in the details. And every detail made it painfully clear who he truly cherished.

I shut the phone, unable to stomach another second of it.

Instead, I turned to what really mattered—finalizing my immigration paperwork and securing my one-way ticket out of here.

The only thing left? Saying goodbye.

At sunrise, I stepped out of the house, only to be stopped by the butler.

"Mrs. Arnault, Mr. Arnault wants you to go to the hospital today for a pregnancy test."

Of course. Vincent wasn't excited about a baby—he was excited about Emma's cure.

The results came back fast: not pregnant. Relief flooded me.

Just as I left the hospital, my phone rang.

"Darling, come to my office. I have a surprise for you."

Perfect. I had a surprise of my own—I wanted to see Emma's luxurious recovery suite with my own eyes.

Before heading to Arnault Corp, I made a quick stop. Bought a recording pen.

The moment I walked into the tower, I caught two employees gossiping in a corner.

"She got here this morning. Mr. Arnault personally escorted her to the suite. To cheer her up, he even gave her this insane ruby jewelry set. I saw it—it was so dazzling, I nearly went blind."

"So jealous. She's not his wife, but she's the one he actually loves. I heard that once she recovers, he's divorcing his wife to marry her."

"Obviously. They were meant to be. If she hadn't gotten sick, they would've been married ages ago. His current wife? Just some ordinary woman—her only purpose was to be Emma's blood bank."

"Wow. Rich people live in a whole different world. Where'd you hear all this?"

"My sister works at Emma's hospital!"

They were too caught up in their conversation to notice me. Not that I stood out—just Vincent's plain, forgettable wife.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and headed for the top floor.

Straight to Vincent.

"Sophia, finally! I've been waiting forever!"

The second I stepped in, Vincent was on me, pressing hot kisses all over my face.

"What's got you so hyped?" I asked, pretending I didn't know.

"Our baby, of course! Do you know how happy I am? Best day of my life. We're having a child—a child with your blood. I hope they take after you." He was practically wagging his tail like an overexcited golden retriever.

"So why'd you call me to your office?"

"To give you a reward!" He pulled me toward his desk. "Look, I already told the lawyers to transfer some properties to you. This is where you and the baby will live."

I scanned the documents, my stomach tightening with every word.

Vincent had gifted Emma oceanfront villas and luxury apartments downtown. And me? A basic house in the countryside. Not awful by normal standards, but compared to what Emma had? A slap in the face.

I latched onto the flaw in his words. "I'll be living there with the baby? Aren't we all supposed to live together as a family of three?"

Vincent froze for a second before scrambling for an excuse. "Of course! I just thought you'd feel safer having your own place."

"Oh? How thoughtful."

"There's one more gift—close your eyes."

I played along. When I opened them, a purple velvet box sat before me. Inside—ruby earrings, intricately crafted, worth a fortune.

"You're carrying our child. This is my gift to you. Let me put them on."

Just as the earrings brushed my skin, I turned my head away and dropped the bomb. "I'm not actually pregnant. I threw up last night because of gastroenteritis."

The earrings slipped from Vincent's fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clink.

"What?"

"Here's my test result. See for yourself."

He snatched the paper, his eyes locking onto the words "Not Pregnant". He stumbled back two steps.

Then came the explosion. "Why did you lie to me? Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to this? How could you joke about something like this?"

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "I never said I was pregnant. You just assumed. What's wrong? Still giving me the house and earrings?"

As if snapping out of a daze, Vincent turned and shoved the property agreement into the shredder. His voice was ice. "The earrings are yours. The house—you'll get one when you're actually pregnant."

He didn't even look at me.

Fine by me. I took my chance and slipped the recording pen under the couch.

He wasn't going to play me for a fool anymore.

"Kevin, take Sophia home."

I followed Kevin, his secretary, toward the exit, but as we passed the room next to Vincent's office, I suddenly twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

Kevin jolted, rushing to stop me, but it was too late.

The room was pure luxury—not just expensive, but personal. Warm, carefully designed, like someone had poured their heart into every detail. A princess's sanctuary.

And at the center of it all, sitting in stunned silence, was Emma. My husband's real love.

Her eyes widened. "Who are you?"

"Sophia. Vincent Arnault's WIFE."

Vincent appeared. The second he saw us face to face, he stepped between us, shielding her. His tone was sharp. "Why are you barging into someone else's room? Do you have no manners?"

"You're the CEO, and I'm your wife. Am I not allowed to look around and learn more about your company? More importantly, why is she living right next to your office? What exactly is your relationship?"

Vincent hesitated, then exhaled. "She's Emma Ortega, daughter of the Ortega Group's CEO—our business partner.

"She's sick and needs a quiet place to recover. She likes the view, so she stays here.

"This is business, Sophia. Do I have to report every little thing to you? Are you my boss?" He scoffed. "No—you're just a housewife."

The words hit harder than they should've. My ears rang, my pulse hammering in my throat. It took me a second to find my voice. "I stepped into a room. Was that really worth all this anger?"

"Who told you to fake a pregnancy?"

"She's not pregnant?" Emma gasped, eyes flicking to my stomach before sighing in disappointment.

That's when I saw it—the ruby necklace around her neck. The design, the craftsmanship... nearly identical to the earrings Vincent had just given me.

Emma didn't have pierced ears.

So my gift? Just leftovers she couldn't use.

"And why do you care about my pregnancy?" I asked.

Emma might've looked fragile, but her words cut sharp. "Vincent is my friend. Of course, I care if he has a child.

"I heard your family background is... modest. You should hurry up and have a baby—then you'll never have to worry about money again."

"Sorry, but whether I get pregnant or not has nothing to do with you. You should focus on your own health—wouldn't want to drop dead unexpectedly."

"Enough, Sophia!" Vincent snapped. "You can't talk to Emma like that! She's just telling the truth. Apologize."

I stayed silent.

Vincent exhaled, then turned to Emma, his tone softer. "She has no manners—people from her background tend to be crass.

"I was going to give her a house today, but since the pregnancy was fake, I took it back. That's why she's acting out.

"You know how poor people are—money is everything to them."

Emma smiled. "It's fine. I won't lower my standards by arguing with a Cinderella."

I'd seen enough. No point staying.

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Vincent's voice rang out, still scolding. "Why are you so upset? She wasn't wrong."

It didn't matter anymore.

My immigration application had been approved.

I was leaving him.