Ten years ago, I lost my sight saving Ivan Hardman.

Now, a decade later, Ivan lets his mistress live under the same roof as me. Every night, he coaxes me to sleep in the first half, only to spend the rest tangled up with her. Even my son secretly calls her "Mom."

What they don't know is, I've regained my sight.

And I'm planning my escape.

"Elise, can you help me stage a car accident? I'll be the one who dies in it."

Alison Wendell's voice was hoarse as she spoke into the phone to her best friend.

On the other end, Elise Leander's anxious voice came through. "What happened? What did that bastard Ivan do this time?"

Alison looked up. Her tears had long dried the moment she discovered Ivan's betrayal. Staring at the sunlight she hadn't seen in ten years, she said, "I want to leave. You're the only one I can rely on now."

Elise didn't hesitate. "In two weeks, my brother will be in the city next to yours for a contract negotiation. I'll have him take you away."

"Okay."

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open behind her. Alison quickly hung up.

A tall, broad figure came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

"Alison, I'm sorry. Something urgent came up at the office. I promise I'll go with you to the hospital next time," Ivan Hardman said gently. "Oh, right. How did the appointment go? What did Dr. Sterling say?"

His questions pulled Alison's thoughts back to that morning.

Ten years ago, she had been in a car accident while saving Ivan, leaving her blind.

In order to help her regain her sight, Ivan founded Hardman Medical Hospital and spared no expense. He invested billions to gather the world's top ophthalmologists and funded research into optic nerve regeneration.

For ten years, she went to the hospital every week. A total of five hundred and twenty-one times. Not once did a miracle occur.

She had long since stopped wanting to try. But Ivan knelt before her and begged. Then, after their child was born, he had yet another reason to persuade her.

"Don't you want to see our son with your own eyes? Please, Alison… just keep trying, for me… for him."

Even their son's birthday wish each year was for her to regain her vision.

It was her love for Ivan and her desire to finally see the face of her son that kept her going.

On the day her vision returned, she rushed to Ivan's office, heart soaring with joy. But what she saw instead was Ivan pressing a woman onto his desk, hands roaming, bodies entwined.

His ragged breathing.

Her moaning voice.

The sounds poured over her like ice water, instantly freezing every trace of joy in her heart.

So this was the "emergency meeting" he claimed he had to attend.

Clothes were scattered from the doorway to the desk, and papers were flung across the room. Everything screamed how desperate they were to touch each other.

The sight of them tangled on that desk stabbed her like a blade. In that moment, she wished she had never regained her sight.

Her body went numb. Her right hand clutched at her chest as if her heart might stop. Gasping for air, she turned and fled.

She never expected Ivan would have the audacity to bring his mistress home.

Even more shockingly, the housekeepers didn't bat an eye. They kept working as if nothing was wrong.

Which meant… this wasn't the first time.

What shattered her completely was seeing her son—her own flesh and blood—winking and silently greeting that woman as if it were perfectly normal.

Her son. The one she had wanted to take with her when she escaped. He already knew about this woman. He accepted her.

Everyone knew. Yet, everyone had been hiding it from her.

As all these truths came crashing down in a single day, Alison tore herself from Ivan's embrace in disgust.

She turned and saw the bruises, the kiss marks, the scratches covering the skin beneath his collar.

All those years she'd spent in darkness, believing his arms were warm, his shoulders dependable…

Filthy. It had all been so filthy.

Alison shook her head. "No progress," she lied.

She had already made up her mind to leave. There was no need for Ivan to know that her world was no longer dark.

She would disappear, for good, from both Ivan's and Josh's lives.

Father and son alike… She no longer wanted either of them.

Ivan let out a long sigh. It was hard to tell whether it came from regret or relief.

"It's okay," he said. "Just remember… even if you can't see for the rest of your life, I'll still love you. Tomorrow, I'll invest another ten million into the ophthalmology department. Maybe it'll help speed things up."

Then he added, "But for now, it's time to eat. Come on."

He bent down and lifted Alison into his arms.

It was a gesture that once felt sweet. Now, it only made her skin crawl. Her body stiffened.

They entered the dining room.

"I want to sit next to Mommy!" Josh chirped, his voice cheerful.

But he was still standing on a stool, wiping the mistress's mouth with a napkin.

Besides, the table was arranged so that he and the woman sat on opposite ends. They clearly had no intention of letting Alison sit beside the mistress.

It was all prearranged. And now they were performing, right in front of her.

The woman wore a bathrobe and lounged beside Ivan, looking more like the lady of the house than Alison herself.

Ivan cut Alison's steak and peeled her shrimp.

Josh poured Alison a glass of water.

It all looked so familiar. But this time, Alison could see. And what she saw in the other woman's eyes was jealousy.

The food tasted bland in Alison's mouth. She stared at Ivan's hands as he peeled shrimp for her—hands that, just this morning, had touched another woman.

Her stomach turned.

Just as she was about to rise and leave the table, the other woman reached out and shamelessly pulled Ivan's hand under her robe.

He flinched, trying to pull away. But she pressed his hand there, guiding his movements.

In the end, even when she let go, Ivan didn't move his hand back.

The nausea hit harder this time, rising like a tide she couldn't stop. Alison gripped the table and doubled over, retching until the room spun.

Josh rushed to get her tissues.

Ivan reached out, trying to rub her back to comfort her.

But the second she remembered what that hand had just done, she slapped it away.

"Dirty," she said coldly.

Ivan froze, clearly missing the meaning behind her word. "I used that hand to peel your shrimp! Let me see, how are you feeling? I'll take you to the hospital."

"I'm fine," Alison said, pushing him away as she steadied herself.

She returned to the bedroom and stepped into the shower. Steam rose around her, and in the fogged mirror, her reflection was hazy.

She thought of what she'd overheard outside Ivan's office that day.

"Ivan, is it because your wife is blind that you are never turned on by her, leading you to take it all out on me?"

"Shut up. You're nothing. Know your place."

Ivan hadn't denied it.

Alison wiped a hand across the mirror. Her face came into focus.

What did she look like when she was blind?

Was she so forgettable… so lacking… that Ivan could toss aside their childhood memories, her life-saving sacrifice, and so many years of marriage for another woman?

She remembered their wedding night—how he kissed her eyes again and again. She had felt his tears falling onto her cheeks.

"Alison, you're finally mine. I love you. Thank you for loving me back. I'll take care of you for the rest of my life. If I break that vow, may the heavens strike me down."

And he had taken care of her. That much was true.

He hired thirty housekeepers for the home, each one trained with motion sensors. All she had to do was press a button, and someone would appear to help.

Even though she couldn't see, he still bought her everything—skincare, jewelry, clothing—anything other wives had, he made sure she had better, more expensive.

Afraid she'd be bored at home, he even formed a Braille publishing team to translate books and magazines just for her.

Did Ivan really stop loving her?

Alison didn't think so.

She believed he had simply learned to split his heart in two.

One half for her. The other for someone else.

When Alison stepped out of the bathroom, Ivan was already sitting on the couch, waiting for her.

He stood and scooped her into his arms, tucking her beneath the blanket, holding her tight.

"Alison, what's going on today? Did something happen at the hospital? If something's bothering you, tell me. I'll always be your rock."

Afraid he might call Dr. Sterling, Alison gave a vague answer. "It's nothing. Maybe I just didn't sleep well."

Right then, his phone rang.

He didn't try to hide it. He tapped the screen in front of her. A photo popped up—sent by someone saved under the name Jessica. The woman in the picture wore a tight, cat-like costume and knelt on a bed, eyes glazed, lips slightly parted.

Jessica: [Waiting for you in bed, Master!]

Ivan's breath hitched. His lips curved up before he could stop them.

Ivan: [I'll come once Alison's asleep.]

Jessica: [Come now! She's blind. She can't even get down the stairs without help. I miss you.]

Ivan locked the screen and pressed a kiss to Alison's forehead.

"Something came up at work," he murmured. "I'll be in the study for a bit. Don't wait up."

Then he left quickly.

Alison lay still, staring up at the stark white ceiling.

Maybe, deep down, Ivan had already accepted that her eyes would never recover. That's why he no longer bothered hiding anything. That's why he acted without restraint or shame.

She sat up and quietly made her way downstairs. The living room was empty. From a bedroom on the right came soft, playful sounds and laughter of a man and a woman.

"Jessica, are you crazy? Alison isn't even asleep, and you're already trying to seduce me?"

"And yet, here you are."

The door hadn't fully closed. Through the crack, Alison saw them wrapped around each other on the bed. The room was done up in soft pinks, stylish and lived-in. At least a year, she guessed.

So the happy little family she thought she had… had included a fourth person all along.

Ivan had settled both his wife and mistress under the same roof. The first half of the night was for Alison. The second half, he slipped downstairs—to what? To his "real" home? To Jessica?

How thrilling it must be.

Alison pressed her hand over her mouth, stifling the scream trying to claw its way out. When she turned around, she ran straight into the night-shift housekeeper.

"Madam? What are you doing down here?"

Before she could answer, the bedroom door flew open. Ivan stumbled out, shirt half-buttoned, hair a mess, face pale with panic.

Behind him trailed Jessica, arms wrapped around his waist, her hands roaming freely over his body.

Ivan shoved her back into the bedroom, then hurried over.

"Alison, did you… hear anything just now?"

Alison clenched her fists so tightly that her nails pierced her palms. The pain was the only thing stopping her from slapping him across the face.

"No," she said calmly. "I was just thirsty. Came down to get a glass of water."

Ivan visibly relaxed. "I left a glass for you on the nightstand. Why come down yourself? It's dangerous."

He guided her back to the bedroom, fussing like nothing had happened.

Some time later, he called out softly, "Alison?"

She didn't respond.

Assuming she'd fallen asleep, he stood.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open.

His voice dropped to a whisper, but she could still hear him.

"What are you doing up here? Go back down."

Then came Jessica's sultry reply, "You left me hanging earlier… I just had to come find you, Master."

There was a pause, then the rustle of clothing, followed by Ivan's voice, low and strained. "Downstairs."

"No," she said. "Let's do it here. She's blind. She can't see anything. That makes it even more exciting, doesn't it?"

The only response was the sound of his heavy and ragged breathing.

In the darkness, two bodies collapsed onto the sofa on her side of the room, limbs entwined.

Alison lay still, eyes open. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she bit her lip, holding the sobs in.

In the black quiet of night, she saw everything.

Right before she pulled the blanket over her head, her eyes landed on the cup of water Ivan had left for her on the nightstand.

It had gone cold… just like her heart.

'Ivan, I'll make sure the rest of your life is pure hell,' she swore silently to herself.