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.

Gabriel left for work just after dawn.

He kissed Victoria’s forehead, told her to rest, told her he loved her. His voice was steady. His lie, effortless. Victoria kept her eyes closed until she heard the door click shut. Only then did she exhale, slow and sharp, as if she’d been holding her breath all night.

She didn’t wait for permission.

By midmorning, Victoria signed the discharge papers herself. The nurse protested. The doctor frowned. She smiled faintly and insisted. She had too many things to do—far too many—to lie in a hospital bed pretending her life hadn’t already been dismantled.

The following afternoon, Aunt Mary’s car pulled up outside.

The moment Victoria slid into the passenger seat, the strength she’d been forcing cracked. Mary didn’t ask questions. She only reached over and squeezed Victoria’s hand, grounding her.

“Slowly,” Mary said. “We’ll do everything slowly.”

Victoria shook her head. “No. I can’t afford slow.”

They drove straight to her parents’ house.

Victoria hadn’t been there in years.

As the gate creaked open, memories ambushed her—her mother’s hurried footsteps, her father’s booming laugh, both of them standing at the door whenever she came home, eyes bright with excitement, as if she were the best thing that had ever happened to them.

Now, the door stood closed.

The house felt smaller than she remembered. The air inside was stale, untouched, and lifeless. Every step echoed too loudly, as though the walls themselves were listening.

Victoria stood in the living room for a long time, fingers trembling, before finally moving.

She went straight to her parents’ bedroom.

Their things were still there—her mother’s neatly folded scarves, her father’s old watch on the bedside table, frozen in time. Victoria opened a box and began packing silently, piece by piece. Each item felt heavier than the last.

Her vision blurred.

Tears dropped onto her hands, onto the memories she could no longer protect.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Mom… Dad… I’m too weak. I couldn’t even protect the last things you left me.”

She pressed her forehead against the wardrobe, shoulders shaking, grief pouring out unchecked. This house had once been her sanctuary. Gabriel had stepped into it with her blessing. And now—now he wanted to stain it with lies, with another woman, with a life built on betrayal.

She wouldn’t allow it.

Before coming here, Victoria had already met with a realtor.

She sold the house quickly. At a price far lower than its worth.

Money didn’t matter.

She refused to let Gabriel defile this place any further. If the memories had to be taken away, she would be the one to do it—on her own terms.

When she sealed the last box, Victoria wiped her face and straightened.

Grief still lived in her chest. Betrayal still burned.

But beneath it all, something else had taken root.

She knew exactly where to start.

After mailing the belongings, Victoria took one last look at the house where she had grown up.

It would be the final time.

She locked the door and stepped outside—only to come face to face with Gabriel.

He looked startled, then relieved. He must not have found her at the hospital and guessed she would come here.

“Sweetheart,” he said quickly, moving toward her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were discharged? Your phone is off. Do you know how worried I was?”

His eyes were red, filled with what looked like genuine concern.

“Don’t go out without telling me, okay?” he added, his voice breaking slightly. “I was so scared something happened to you.”

He pulled her into his arms.

His body trembled against her shoulder.

Victoria’s mind flashed to the image from the night before—Gabriel tangled with Prisca in the stairwell, breathless and shameless. Nausea surged up her throat.

She shoved him away.

Her eyes were cold. Disgust filled them.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?” she said flatly. “I didn’t want to bother you. You’re very busy.”

Gabriel froze.

For the first time, he saw something unfamiliar in her eyes—impatience.

Usually, she would apologize softly. Usually, she would comfort him.

Why was she acting like this?

He frowned and said she must be upset about her parents’ things. He reminded her that he had warned her not to come here, but she hadn’t listened. Trying to smooth things over, he suggested getting something tasty for her—ice cream, maybe.

She refused.

He reminded her about the upcoming transplant, about how she needed to stay strong.

Without waiting for her response, Gabriel took her hand.

“What do you want me to do for your birthday tomorrow?” he asked lightly. “That bag I promised you—I had someone get it. It’ll arrive tomorrow. You’ll be the first person in the world to have it.”

“Excited?”

His grip felt like needles piercing her skin.

The first in the world?

Hadn’t he already given that same bag to Prisca?

Did he really think she was blind?

Victoria pulled her hand free, her voice distant and flat. “I don’t want to eat out. I’m not hungry.”

More than unappetizing food, the man standing in front of her killed her appetite. Even his slightest touch felt filthy.

“Alright,” Gabriel said, momentarily stunned, then quickly pasting on a smile. “We’ll eat at home. I’ll cook for you.”

He was confident.

A little coaxing, and she would fall back into his arms.

She could never leave him.

Victoria turned and looked straight into his eyes.

Suddenly, she wanted to know.

“Gabriel,” she asked quietly, “if I don’t get the transplant and I die… would you be sad?”

The question struck him like a blow.

His chest tightened inexplicably.

“Why would you ask that?” he said quickly. “No, sweetheart, don’t think like that. You’ll recover. Don’t say such things.”

His voice thickened. His eyes glistened, as if he might cry.

Victoria gave him a faint smile.

She used to avoid questions like this. She didn’t want to worry him. She was afraid he would do desperate things—like secretly spending nights praying in temples for her survival.

Now she knew the truth.

It was all a lie.

Even if he offered her the kidney himself, she wouldn’t feel a shred of pity for him.

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