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.

The days that followed were no different from the one when Alison first uncovered the truth.

The three of them went out together during the day, then came home and pretended silently that nothing was wrong.

Every night, Ivan would slip downstairs to vent his desires on Jessica, only to quietly return at dawn.

Alison watched their little performance in silence. Eventually, unless absolutely necessary, she stayed in the upstairs bedroom.

In the blink of an eye, it was time for another of Alison's treatments.

That morning, Ivan followed his usual routine—gently waking her with a kiss and helping her downstairs for breakfast.

Just then, Jessica, who had always been careful to keep up appearances, suddenly started gagging.

Ivan and Josh both froze.

Ivan lunged toward her, trying to cover her mouth.

Josh, on the other hand, looked worried. He mouthed silently, "Jessica, what's wrong?"

Alison stared at her panicked husband and son, and calmly played along. "What's going on?"

"One of the maids," Ivan blurted out, grasping at straws. "She just started vomiting out of nowhere."

To make it more convincing, he even turned toward the empty air and scolded the imaginary maid.

But Alison saw everything clearly—when Ivan mentioned the maid, a flicker of jealousy and resentment passed through Jessica's eyes.

Breakfast ended in an awkward rush. The three of them retreated into Jessica's room.

Alison didn't know what they discussed inside, but a moment later, Josh let out a cheer—quick and restrained, as if worried someone might hear.

Then the three of them reemerged.

Josh ran up and kissed Alison on the cheek. "Mom, I'm off to kindergarten!"

Ivan crouched in front of her with a smile. "I have to head to the office again today. I'm going to miss you, my love."

If she couldn't see, if she were only listening to his voice, she might have believed it and kissed him back and scolded him for acting like a child.

"You promised last time you'd come with me to my treatment today," she said.

She saw it in his expression that he had completely forgotten the appointment and his promise.

"Oh, right!" Josh suddenly slapped his forehead. "There's a parent-teacher meeting at kindergarten today. Dad has to attend!"

"Yes, yes, I completely forgot," Ivan echoed quickly.

Looking at the father and son putting on such a seamless act, Alison smiled. "Alright. You go."

The moment they walked out the door, Alison sent all the maids to the annex, saying she wanted to be alone.

Then she hailed a cab and followed Ivan's car.

What she saw was Ivan and his son accompanying Jessica… into the obstetrics and gynecology department of the hospital.

So he hadn't come to her treatment because Jessica might be pregnant. And of course, that was more important than Alison was.

They hadn't gone to Hardman Medical Hospital. They chose a different facility, somewhere they could celebrate without restraint.

"Oh! Jessica is going to give me a little sister!" Josh shouted excitedly.

Ivan stood protectively at Jessica's side, his hand brushing gently over her stomach as though it were something sacred. His face lit up with uncontainable joy.

"Jessica, you're incredible!" he beamed.

Hearing those familiar words, Alison bit back her tears, but they still slipped down her face.

She remembered the day she told Ivan she was pregnant. He had reacted the same way—hugging her so tightly, then letting go like she was something fragile and precious.

"Alison, you're incredible!" he had said.

One of the deepest regrets of her life had been not seeing her own wedding, not seeing the look on Ivan's face when he found out he was going to be a father.

Now, she had seen it.

Ivan, Jessica, and Josh went off to an auction later, spending lavishly on gifts for Jessica.

Meanwhile, Alison arrived at the hospital morgue.

Elise had told her that the body that would replace her had been found. Someone was already performing cosmetic surgery on it.

Not that it mattered.

What Alison wanted to leave the Hardman family was not a lifelike replica, but a mangled, unrecognizable corpse.

She wanted to leave them a nightmare—one that would haunt them, night and day, for the rest of their lives.