At Adam’s annual jewelry launch, I was shoved hard by Christopher Adam’s companion, Lisa Goodrem, and collapsed onto the cold, polished floor.

She didn’t stop there. With her 10-centimeter high heels, she stepped directly on my swollen belly. A sharp, searing pain shot through me. The next moment, a deep crimson stain spread across the hem of my white dress.

Christopher glanced at me sideways, his expression indifferent, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re pregnant, yet instead of staying home to care for the baby, you come out to put on a show?” His voice dripped with disdain. “Did you come looking for Liz again? Tch. How unlucky—your blood has dirtied the carpet. What an eyesore.”

With that, he turned on his heel, wrapping his arm around Lisa’s waist and left without a second glance.

Not even the piercing sound of the ambulance sirens made him look back.

The sterile chill of medical equipment invaded my body. And just like that, the child was gone.

Lying in the hospital bed, I placed my trembling hand over my now-empty belly.

As I stepped out of the operating room, the hospital television blared in the hallway. On the screen, Christopher held Lisa in his arms, kissing her passionately in front of a sea of flashing cameras.

A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, but it couldn’t compare to the agony in my heart.

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and turned to the woman standing at my bedside—my mother-in-law.

“Mom,” my voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “It’s been eight years. The Adam Family’s crisis has passed. I want a divorce. Please, let me go…”

——

Before she could answer, the sharp ringing of a phone shattered the silence of the ward.

On the other end of the call, Christopher’s voice was indifferent, laced with arrogance.

“Book me a hotel room and have someone send over the lace lingerie I bought the other day. If you won’t wear it, the women outside are lining up to take your place.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but in the dead silence of the hospital room, every word struck like a dagger.

I felt my mother-in-law tense beside me. A flicker of anger crossed her weary eyes. She reached for the phone, perhaps to say something, but before she could, the call ended abruptly.

She clutched the phone tightly, then let out a long, tired sigh as she turned to me.

“Ariana, the Adam Family owes you too much.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling onto my hand as she grasped it.

“I agree. Let’s get you a divorce…”

But then she hesitated. Her voice trembled as she pleaded, “But before you go… I need to ask something of you.”

I knew what she wanted before she even spoke.

“Mom, you don’t want Christopher to know what happened eight years ago,” I murmured. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the secret.”

At my words, my mother-in-law broke down completely, sobs wracking her frail body.

Eight years ago, the Adam Family had gone bankrupt.

Christopher’s father, crushed by debt collectors, had jumped to his death.

Their once-prosperous empire crumbled overnight.

Everyone knew how much I loved Christopher.

So when it happened, Adam’s mother had come to my home, kneeling outside my door for three days and three nights, begging me to marry her son.

In the end, I caved. My father gave his approval and I married into the Adam Family.

Not only that—my father did everything in his power to pull them back from the brink of ruin.

But that same night, I uncovered the truth behind their downfall.

It was the Goodrem Family who had orchestrated the Adam Family’s destruction.

Lisa Goodrem and her father were both involved.

But Adam’s mother didn’t want Christopher to bear the weight of that truth. She had knelt before me, begging me and my father to keep it a secret.

I understood. A mother would do anything to protect her child.

So even today, as Christopher held Lisa in his arms, pressing her beneath him, I kept my silence.

My mother-in-law pulled me into a fragile embrace, stroking my pale face with trembling hands.

“Honey… Chris doesn’t know what he’s lost. That’s his misfortune.” She wiped her tears and forced a small, bittersweet smile. “Your birthday is in seven days. After that, I’ll let you go…”

I gazed at the woman before me, her hair streaked with gray, her once-strong presence now fragile and burdened by years of regret.

Seven days.

I had endured eight years.

Seven more days wouldn’t break me.

My mother-in-law quietly left after buying me dinner, giving me one last lingering glance before stepping out of the room.

The suffocating silence settled over me once more.

Seven days.

Just seven more days.

Hotel Room…

The door to the ward had barely closed when my phone buzzed. A message from Christopher.

I hesitated before opening it.

A video.

The screen lit up with the sight of him—naked, tangled with another woman whose face was blurred, their bodies entwined in an obscene display.

Disgusting, wet sounds filled the silence of my hospital room.

My hands trembled. My stomach churned. I fumbled to turn off the phone, but before I could, it rang.

Christopher.

His voice on the other end was laced with mockery, slow and lazy, filled with disdain.

“Did you watch it?” He chuckled. “If you don’t send me the hotel room number before 8 o’clock, I’ll make sure countless more videos like this flood your phone. Consider it a lesson—watch and learn how real women serve their men.”

A deep, suffocating ache spread through my chest. My fingers clenched around the phone.

“…I’ll go,” I whispered.

Christopher sighed in satisfaction.

“Ariana, remember this—you chose this life.” His voice was cold, cutting. “Eight years ago, you took advantage of my family’s bankruptcy and forced me and Liz apart. The day you dragged me back to your home, you should have known—you’d never get even a sliver of my love.”

And then, he hung up.

Tears burned down my cheeks.

He was right.

Eight years ago, I foolishly believed that if I just had enough time, I could warm Christopher’s heart.

But today, I understood how naïve I had been.

For eight years, he had taken countless women to bed.

And now, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore.

I knew what would happen if I didn’t go. The video wouldn’t just stay on my phone. By tomorrow morning, every major media outlet in Boston would have it.

The Anderson Family had been a pillar of this city for over a century.

I couldn’t drag my father through another scandal—couldn’t let my mistakes taint his legacy.

Christopher had spent years making sure my life was miserable, doing everything in his power to break me.

I didn’t know when his love had twisted into such cruel, unforgiving hatred.

How had we ended up here?

A sharp pain suddenly tore through my lower abdomen.

I gasped, pressing my hand against the wall as a fresh wave of blood gushed from my body.

I had no time to deal with it.

Biting down on the pain, I forced myself to stand, grabbed my things and walked out of the ward.

Ten minutes later, I sent Christopher the hotel room number.

As I waited for his reply, my fingers idly scrolled through our past messages.

Thousands of texts sent from me.

Barely a handful of replies from him—each one short, indifferent, dismissive.

I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror—a hollow smile on my lips, eyes dull with exhaustion.

With a bitter chuckle, I tossed my phone onto the seat.

Half an hour later, I arrived at his hotel room. In my hands was the lace lingerie he had purchased.

The first time he bought me something like this, I had been nervous, shy—but I hadn’t refused.

That night, I gave him everything.

And yet, as he moved above me, lost in pleasure, he moaned only one name.

Lisa.

I had lain awake beside him till dawn, silently crying as he slept.

From that night on, I never wore lingerie like this again.

But Christopher always had his ways.

If I refused, he’d simply make another woman wear it—then send me the pictures as casually as if he were saying good morning and good night.

A cruel game. One he played well.

The door swung open.

Christopher stood there in a loose bathrobe, smirking down at me. His eyes glinted with amusement.

“Hmm… You’re one minute late,” he drawled. “I’ll forgive you this time. But don’t be late again.”

Before I could respond, another figure stepped into view.

Lisa.

She wrapped her arms around Christopher’s waist, pressing herself against him as she leaned toward me with a sweet, innocent smile.

“How thoughtful of you,” she cooed, tilting her head. “You brought it here yourself?”

The door swung open wider than necessary, exposing me to the harsh hotel lighting.

Christopher frowned, his gaze darkening as he took in my appearance. Without warning, he yanked open my coat, revealing the hospital gown underneath. His voice dripped with disdain.

“You’re still wearing this pathetic thing after falling down earlier?” He scoffed. “Ariana Anderson, do you ever stop putting on a show?”

His sharp gaze raked over me, cutting through what little dignity I had left. I swallowed the pain, knowing nothing I said would change his mind.

I bent down, hurriedly grabbing my coat from the floor and wrapping it tightly around myself. All I wanted was to leave. But before I could turn away, a pair of strong hands seized me from behind.

Christopher stepped closer, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

“Since you’re here, you might as well stay,” he mused. “How thoughtful of you. Serve me well tonight. Liz and I will sleep in the bedroom—” he paused, eyes glinting with amusement, saying, “and you can sleep on the sofa.”

A sickening wave of nausea rolled through me.

I struggled, trying to wrench myself free, but every movement sent sharp, stabbing pain through my abdomen.

Christopher didn’t care. He dragged me into the room with force, slamming the door shut behind us.

That night, just as I expected, the bedroom walls echoed with the sounds of pleasure.

I curled into the corner of the sofa, pressing my hands over my ears, trying to drown it out.

But fate seemed to enjoy tormenting me.

The TV flickered on, displaying today’s headlines—clips of Christopher and Lisa, smiling, laughing, their fingers intertwined like lovers in a fairytale.

The contrast was unbearable.

I reached for the remote, wanting to turn it off, but my hands trembled so violently I couldn’t even grip it.

The moans from the bedroom intertwined with the syrupy sweetness on the screen, twisting into a grotesque lullaby.

I clenched my nails into my palms, digging deep, trying to anchor myself against the suffocating pain. But even that no longer hurt.

By the time the bedroom door finally creaked open, dawn had begun to break.

Christopher emerged first, Lisa trailing behind, draped lazily in his arms.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his expression tender—so different from the way he looked at me.

Then, his gaze shifted, locking onto me. His voice remained as indifferent as ever.

“Go home.” His words were a dismissal, a cruel mockery. “Didn’t you love being Mrs. Adam? Hope you enjoyed it enough tonight.”

With that, he stroked Lisa’s cheek a few times, whispering something that made her giggle, before grabbing my wrist and yanking me toward the door.

I knew Christopher wouldn’t let me leave so easily.

And sure enough, the moment we stepped outside the hotel, I was ambushed.

A sea of reporters swarmed toward me like ravenous wolves, cameras flashing like gunfire.

I wasn’t at yesterday’s press conference, so they must have been holding back their questions, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

And Christopher had delivered me straight to them—offering me up like prey.

The moment they spotted me, they pounced.

Microphones shoved toward my face.

Blinding lights flashing relentlessly.

“Mrs. Adam, have you seen the footage of Mr. Adam and Miss Goodrem at yesterday’s press conference? What are your thoughts?”

“Mrs. Adam, is it true your marriage is on the rocks?”

“Mrs. Adam, Miss Goodrem claims she and Mr. Adam are just like siblings—do you believe her?”

“Mrs. Adam, we have photos of Miss Goodrem staying in this hotel last night. It appears she and Mr. Adam entered a room together. Yet, this morning, you and Mr. Adam are leaving together. Can you explain why?”

Mr. Adam. Mr. Adam. Mr. Adam.

They wielded the title like a dagger, slicing into me with every question.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Christopher watching me.

His expression was unreadable, but the sheer depth of hatred in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

What kind of resentment made a man drag himself through the mud just to see someone else drown?

I hadn’t slept all night. My head throbbed with an unbearable ache.

Summoning the last of my strength, I shoved past the reporters, stumbling forward.

I had to get away.

But as I reached the first intersection outside the hotel…

The world around me spun and darkness swallowed me whole.