Victoria Bathram had lived with kidney failure for five years.

Five years of hospital corridors that smelled of antiseptic and fear. Five years of needles, dialysis machines, whispered reassurances, and nights where pain kept her awake while Gabriel slept beside her, one arm draped protectively over her waist. Doctors had warned her early on—her condition would worsen. A transplant was her only real chance.

And then, finally, a miracle arrived.

In her fifth year, Victoria was told a compatible kidney had been found.

She cried that night Into her pillow. For the first time in years, hope felt real.

Gabriel had been her rock throughout it all. Her husband of eight years. The man who never missed a hospital appointment, who spoke gently to doctors, who insisted on handling everything so she wouldn’t worry. He cooked her meals himself because she hated hospital food. He prayed when she was too weak to lift her head. Everyone said she was lucky.

That was before the doctor came to the house.

Victoria lay in bed that afternoon, weak from dialysis, her eyes closed as the sound of voices drifted in from the living room. She didn’t mean to listen at first. But then she heard Gabriel’s angry voice and something in her chest tightened.

She stayed still. Pretended to sleep.

“Her condition has worsened,” the doctor said quietly. “She may not survive beyond two months without the transplant.”

There  was silence for a while.

Then Gabriel spoke.

“I know.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“There’s another patient,” the doctor continued carefully. “A child. Kidney failure as well. She’s also a match.”

Victoria’s fingers curled into the sheets.

“A child?” Gabriel asked, though his voice sounded… prepared.

“Yes. Sandra.”

Victoria’s breath caught.

“She’s my daughter,” Gabriel said. “She’s young. She has her whole life ahead of her. Please, use the kidney for her.”

The words sliced cleanly through Victoria’s chest.

“Your wife—” the doctor started. “Victoria only has two months.”

“I know,” Gabriel interrupted. “But she has lived. Sandra hasn’t even begun life.”

As if her life were already over.

As if five years of marriage, of devotion, of shared prayers and whispered promises, could be reduced to a calculation of worth.

Victoria felt a ringing in her ears. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared they would hear it from the room. Sandra, A daughter, His daughter? A child he had never mentioned.

So the rumors were true.

Gabriel hadn’t just betrayed her once. He had built an entire life outside their marriage.

A secret wife, children, and a hidden family.

While she lay dying.

Footsteps approached the bedroom. Victoria forced her breathing to steady, her face slackening into sleep just as the door creaked open. Gabriel stood there for a moment, watching her. She felt his gaze on her face, gentle, almost loving.

He didn’t touch her.

That night, after he slept, Victoria did something she hadn’t done in years.

She opened her laptop.

Her parents had once been unimaginably wealthy—owners of multiple villas across the country. Years ago, for security, Victoria had insisted on installing hidden cameras in each property. After her parents’ sudden disappearance, the villas had been left untouched… or so she believed.

Her hands trembled as the footage loaded.

The villa looked the same.

Same marble floors. Same sweeping staircase. Same sunlight pouring through tall windows.

But her parents were gone.

Instead, a woman moved through the living room—comfortable. Children laughed as they ran past her. And then the front door opened.

Gabriel walked in.

Victoria froze.

On the screen, Gabriel knelt in front of a little girl—Sandra, Smiling. He fastened a delicate jewelry necklace around her neck, adjusting it carefully, like this was something he’d done many times before.

Then he stood and handed the woman a luxury bag. One Victoria recognized immediately—rare, expensive, custom-ordered.

The kind of gift he had never bought for her.

Gabriel had promised her that bag for years.

Each time she stopped to admire it in a shop window or lingered over it in a magazine, he would smile and say, One day, i will get you this bag. When she was stronger. When things were better. When the time was right.

There was always time—for someone else.

On the screen, he handed the luxury bag to another woman without thinking twice, as if keeping a promise he had never planned to keep for Victoria.

Her heart felt ripped apart, piece by piece.

So this was why he had kept her away from her parents’ villa. Not to protect her feelings. Not to spare her pain. But to hide his other life inside it.

“Stop,” she whispered.

But she couldn’t.

Her hands moved on their own as she opened older footage. Tears blurred her vision as quiet sobs shook her chest. The truth played out cruelly on the screen. Gabriel and the woman were everywhere—claiming spaces that once belonged to her family.

On the sofa where Victoria used to lie beside her mother.

In her mother’s favorite room.

Sitting on her father’s golden chair, laughing like it was theirs.

Even on the balcony where her parents once watched the sunset together.

Her wedding photo was still on the wall.

Untouched, and laughing at her.

Their betrayal had stained every corner of the house.

Victoria covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face. Then the pain twisted into something bitter, and she let out a broken laugh.

How stupid she had been.

She has been tricked by everyone, and loved by no one.

She wiped her tears slowly. Her hands were steady now—steadier than they had been in years. The hope she had held onto—the transplant, the marriage, the man she trusted—fell apart completely.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t called in a long time.

“Aunt Mary,” she said when the call connected. Her voice was calm, almost empty. “I’ve changed my mind.”

There was a pause.

“Gabriel’s love was a lie,” Victoria went on. “And what I thought would save me was just another trick.”

If no one loved her, she would stop begging to be loved.

It was time.

Time to face her husband and end it all.                                                                                                               

Victoria stared at the screen until her vision blurred.

So this was where her life had gone.

Her kidney, her marriage, and her future.

All quietly given away.Gabriel felt trapped.

Not by walls.

Not by chains.

But by two ghosts.

One was his past — Victoria, standing strong, ready to drag him to court and tear down the image he had built for years.

The other was inside his own house — the truth about Daniel.

He did not know which battle to fight first.

The divorce?

Or the child?

Every morning he woke up with the same thought:

If Daniel is not my son… then who is?

And why won’t Prisca tell me?

Sandra’s DNA results came in on a quiet Wednesday afternoon.

Gabriel opened the email in his office.

His hands were steady.

He already suspected the answer.

But he needed proof.

He needed something that still belonged to him.

The document loaded slowly.

He scanned the lines quickly.

Probability of paternity: 99.99%.

Sandra was his.

His shoulders dropped slightly.

He didn’t even realize how much tension he was carrying until that moment.

Sandra was his daughter.

There was no mistake.

No doubt.

But the relief did not last.

Because just below that relief was the heavier question.

Daniel.

If Sandra was his…

Then Daniel wasn’t.

And that meant the betrayal wasn’t confusion.

It wasn’t timing.

It wasn’t a mistake.

It was real.

And deliberate.

Gabriel closed his laptop slowly.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to know,” he whispered.

Not because he wanted to push Daniel away.

Not because he loved him less.

But because if someone else could claim him—

He needed to be ready.

Prisca noticed the change in him.

He was quieter now, more watchful and less emotional.

It scared her more than shouting would have.

That evening, they sat at the dining table again.

Daniel was telling a story about school.

Sandra was laughing loudly.

Gabriel watched Daniel carefully.

The boy’s smile.

The way he held his spoon.

The way he frowned when he was thinking.

For years, he had seen himself in those habits.

Now he questioned every detail.

Was it imagination?

Or just love?

After dinner, the children ran off to their room.

Gabriel remained seated.

Prisca began clearing the plates.

“Sit,” he said calmly.

She froze.

His voice was not loud.

But it carried weight.

She sat down slowly.

“We need to finish this conversation,” he said.

“What conversation?” she asked softly.

“Daniel.”

She looked down.

“Gabriel, not now.”

“When?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

He leaned forward.

“Who is his father?”

Silence.

Prisca’s hands trembled slightly.

“It was before we were serious,” she said quickly.

“That is not what I asked.”

She swallowed.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“The children are fine. We’re fine. Why dig up old wounds?”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened.

“Because someone else might come digging.”

She looked at him sharply.

“Victoria won’t touch my child.”

“This isn’t about Victoria.”

“Then what is it about?”

His voice dropped.

“It’s about the possibility that a man out there has a right to my son.”

The word my hung in the air.

Prisca shook her head.

“No one is coming for Daniel.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“How?” he demanded.

She hesitated.

And that hesitation said everything.

Gabriel stood up slowly.

“Who is he?”

Prisca stood up too.

“You’re turning this into something it’s not.”

“I’m trying to protect my family.”

“You’re trying to protect your pride!”

The words hit hard.

He stared at her.

“My pride?” he repeated quietly.

“You can’t stand the idea that Daniel might not carry your blood,” she continued, her voice shaking now. “But he carries your love. Isn’t that enough?”

Gabriel looked away for a moment.

When he looked back, his eyes were darker.

“I am not afraid of loving him,” he said. “I am afraid of losing him.”

That stopped her.

Because deep down—

She knew that fear was real.

Two days later, Gabriel met his lawyer regarding Victoria’s divorce.

The office smelled like polished wood and tension.

“She’s serious,” the lawyer said plainly. “Very serious.”

Gabriel nodded.

“I know.”

“She’s asking for a full audit of your finances during the time of her illness.”

Gabriel’s fingers tightened slightly.

“That was years ago.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

The lawyer looked at him carefully.

“If there is anything questionable, tell me now.”

Gabriel remained silent.

The lawyer leaned forward.

“And Gabriel… if there are other personal matters that could surface during the divorce, I need to know.”

Gabriel understood the meaning.

“Like what?” he asked carefully.

“Children,” the lawyer said bluntly.

The room felt heavy.

Gabriel didn’t respond.

The lawyer’s eyes sharpened.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Gabriel stood up.

“Handle the divorce,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

That night, Gabriel searched through old records.

Hospital bills.

Transfer receipts.

Dates.

He compared them.

He counted months.

He traced timelines.

Daniel’s age.

Their separation period.

Victoria’s illness.

Prisca’s arrival.

Something didn’t add up.

The timeline was too tight.

Too exact.

He closed the files slowly.

His mind was racing.

If Daniel was conceived during that brief period when he left prisca to go stay with victoria, then there was only a small window.

Which meant—

The father wasn’t random.

It was someone close.

Someone available.

Someone trusted.

The thought made his stomach twist.

Gabriel returned home at exactly twelve that night.

Over the years, no matter how busy he claimed to be, he always came home before midnight. He never spent the night out. Never raised suspicion. Who would have imagined that such a careful, devoted man had another family?

He opened the bedroom door and stopped short.

Victoria was sitting up in bed, her eyes red and swollen, tear tracks still visible on her face. A flicker of concern crossed Gabriel’s features.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I’m late. Are you overthinking again?”

He lifted the takeout bags. “I brought you seafood and pizza. Eat a little before you sleep.”

Gabriel’s care had always shown in small gestures—bringing home her favorite foods, checking her medicines, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Victoria had once believed meeting him, and marrying him, was a gift from God.

That night, she finally understood the truth.

Gabriel moved closer to the bed and set the food aside. As he leaned in to help Victoria sit up, a scent brushed past her senses.

His Perfume,It was soft, expensive, and smelled differently—nothing like the mild, unscented lotion she used because strong smells made her nauseous. she froze for a while.

Gabriel didn’t notice.

He reached into his pocket and placed something on the bedside table. A small velvet pouch.

“I stopped by a jewelry store today,” he said casually. “They were giving these out as samples.”

Victoria’s eyes drifted to the pouch despite herself.

Later, after Gabriel fell asleep, she picked it up with shaking fingers and opened it.

A receipt slid out.

Two items.

One—a delicate necklace.

The other—a luxury handbag.

Her heart sank as she recognized both from the surveillance footage she had watched earlier.

The necklace was for Sandra.

The bag was for the woman.

The date on the receipt was today.

And next to the total, written neatly in ink, was a different name, not hers.

Victoria stared at it until her chest began to ache. So this was how he did it—carefully, without ever missing a step. He could buy gifts, give affection, build memories… and still come home to her, wearing the mask of a devoted husband.

She lowered the pouch slowly, her hands trembling.

How many nights had he returned home like this? Carrying the warmth of another woman, the laughter of another family, while she lay here believing she was loved?

If he could lie this easily…

If he could love this many people at once…

Then none of it had ever been real.

Her stomach twisted in knots. As she thought about it, she felt dizzy.

Victoria barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, shaking, tears streaming down her face.

Why, Gabriel? she cried silently.

If you don’t love me, why pretend so well?

“Victoria?” Gabriel’s voice came from outside the door, filled with urgency.

“Are you okay, my wife? I’m sorry—I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well. It’s my fault. Please open the door. Let me see you.”

She pressed her hands to her face, biting back sobs.

Why did he treat her this way?

That night, Victoria spiked a high fever.

Gabriel rushed her to the hospital.

She didn’t know how long she'd slept, but familiar voices woke her up. She kept her eyes shut as she recognized the sound of Gabriel speaking with Allwell Founder, her doctor… and his cousin.

“Gabriel,” Allwell said quietly, “Victoria’s condition is critical. She may not last a month. Are you still giving the kidney to someone else?”

Silence stretched.

Then Gabriel spoke.

“I’m sticking with my decision. You didn’t see Sandra crying in front of me. I can’t bear that. For Victoria, I’ll find another kidney in time.”

Allwell hesitated. “And how will you explain it to her?”

Gabriel’s voice hardened.

“I’ll say the donor’s family backed out. She won’t suspect anything.”

A pause.

“But Victoria is your lawful wife,” Allwell pressed. “The Bathram family gave you your status, and your wealth. Can you really be this heartless?”

Victoria lay perfectly still, her world collapsing quietly around her.

Victoria lay perfectly still, her world collapsing quietly around her.

Gabriel gave a low, bitter laugh.

“Yes, I owe my success to the Bathram family,” he said. “But haven’t I been good to Victoria? How many men would do what I’ve done? Even when her illness left her unable to have children, did I ever complain? I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”

Under the blanket, Victoria’s fingers clenched tightly around the bedsheet.

Her heart felt as though it had been carved out of her chest.

So this was how he justified it. His loyalty during her illness, his patience, his care—he believed they earned him the right to betray her. As if staying by her side while quietly planning her death made him noble.

Whether he truly felt no guilt or was simply lying to himself, only Gabriel knew.

Allwell’s voice was low but sharp. “Don’t you care if she lives or dies?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped closer to the bed. His fingers brushed Victoria’s cheek, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was careful, almost tender, but Victoria felt it like fire.

Every place his skin touched burned with unbearable pain. She wanted to pull away, to scream, to tear the lie from his mouth—but she stayed still. Silent and trapped inside her own body.

“Rest,” Gabriel murmured softly, as if she could hear him. “You’ll be fine.”

His hand lingered for a moment longer, then withdrew.

Inside, something in Victoria broke—not loudly, not all at once, but completely.

In that moment, she understood.

He would not save her.

He would not choose her.

And if she waited for his mercy, she would die waiting.

Victoria remained motionless, her breathing slow and even, but her mind was already moving—quietly, carefully.

If he believed she was helpless, then she would let him believe it.

And when she finally opened her eyes again, it would not be as his wife begging to live…

…but as a woman who had nothing left to lose.

Victoria waited until the voices faded before opening her tear-reddened eyes.

So it had been Aunt Mary who found the kidney donor.

When Victoria had told Gabriel the news, his excitement had seemed real. He had smiled, held her hands, thanked God. She had believed he was happy for her.

Now she understood.

He had been celebrating for another woman.

He had never planned for her to live.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone beneath the blanket. She typed a message to Aunt Mary, her heart pounding with every word, begging her to secure the donor immediately—and to keep Gabriel away from the process.

Moments later, the door opened.

“Sweetheart, you’re awake!” Gabriel said, rushing to her side. His eyes were red, his face tight with worry. “You scared me to death.”

He clasped Victoria’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, his touch gentle enough to fool anyone watching.

A young nurse nearby smiled warmly. “Your marriage is just too perfect, Mrs. Bathram,” she said with open envy. “The woman in the next room? Her husband hasn’t visited her once in two months. You’re so lucky.”

Victoria forced a smile.

The nurse didn’t know that Victoria envied that woman.

At least she wasn’t being held together by lies. At least she hadn’t watched every hope she had crumble into nothing.

“I want to visit my parents’ house,” Victoria said hoarsely.

Gabriel froze.

His smile stiffened, unnatural. “Why go there?” he asked quickly. “It’ll only upset you. Once you recover from the transplant, we’ll move back. For now, just focus on getting well.”

His eyes held no guilt. Only calculation.

Victoria swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat. “It’s because of the surgery,” she said softly. “I want to see their place… and ask for their blessing to live a long life.”

There was an edge to her words.

Gabriel didn’t hear it.

He blinked, then slipped back into his familiar, caring mask. “Alright,” he said gently. “Whatever you want.”

After a pause, he added, almost casually, “The house is a bit messy, though. I’ll have it cleaned before we go.”

Victoria nodded, her face calm.

Inside, she smiled for the first time that night.

Victoria nodded. She knew he needed time to prepare.

That house once held memories worth protecting. Now it was stained beyond saving, no longer deserving of her attachment. Fate, however, was cruel. She wanted to avoid the woman—but the woman came to her instead.

Victoria met Prisca for the first time that afternoon.

“Hi, I’m Prisca,” the woman said, stopping beside Victoria’s hospital bed with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “My daughter is having a transplant soon too.”

She extended her hand, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Victoria looked at her coldly.

Prisca wasn’t prettier— she only looked flashier. And men like Gabriel didn’t care about beauty when they were already staying. Victoria didn’t take her hand. She said nothing.

If Prisca couldn’t keep her husband’s heart without scheming, how could Victoria blame her?

Embarrassment flickered across Gabriel’s face. He quickly looked away from Prisca and helped Victoria sip some water instead. Prisca bit her lip, irritation flashing in her eyes.

She had only come because Gabriel had called earlier—telling her and their daughter to move out of the Bathram villa. Prisca didn’t care about the house itself, but she knew how much it would hurt Victoria. They had lived there for five years. Winning mattered more to her than comfort.

“I heard you found a kidney donor too,” Prisca said lightly. “I hope nothing goes wrong.”

Her tone was unmistakably taunting.

“Enough,” Gabriel snapped.

The glass in his hand cracked as he slammed it onto the table. He turned on Prisca, his face dark.

“If you can’t speak properly, keep quiet. My wife doesn’t bother with things like this—but I do. Say another word, and you’re out of this hospital.”

Victoria leaned back against the headboard, silently applauding his performance.

What an actor.

Did he plan to lie to her until her last breath?

Her heart ached. Too tired to confront his hypocrisy, she closed her eyes and let exhaustion pull her under. Fighting them could wait. Healing her body came first.

Without Gabriel, she would grieve for a long time. But now, more than ever, she wanted to live.

Because only by living could she make them pay.

In the middle of the night, Victoria woke, thirsty.

Gabriel was gone.

She stepped into the hallway and heard low, muffled sounds from the stairwell—soft voices, hurried breaths. Her body stiffened. She knew that voice.

Her chest tightened as she pushed the door open slightly.

Gabriel was there.

So was Prisca.

They stood too close. His hand rested where it shouldn’t. Her fingers were curled into his shirt.

“Why were you so harsh earlier?” Prisca whispered. “You hurt me.”

“You shouldn’t have provoked her,” Gabriel replied quietly.

“The kidney is still for my daughter. Don’t doubt that.”

Prisca laughed softly. “I just wanted to upset her. She always takes so much of your time.”

“Enough,” Gabriel murmured, pulling her closer. “This isn’t the place.”

Victoria stepped back silently.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t scream.

The pain was there—but it no longer ruled her.

She returned to her room, lay down, and stared at the ceiling.

Now she knew.

And knowing meant she could plan.