### Chapter 1
"Dad, I've had enough. Since I'm nothing but a dirty secret, a 'homewrecker,' then I'll step aside and let Dustin Delgado have his sister-in-law."
My knuckles were white around the phone. My voice trembled, but I finally said it.
"I always told you that bastard wasn't worthy of you." A sigh crackled through the speaker, followed by my father's low, steady voice. "It's not too late to leave him. I'll come get you right now."
His words loosened something wound tight inside my chest. I wiped the tears from my face. "Give me a week. I need to wrap things up here."
I hung up and slid down against the headboard until I was sitting on the floor. Every memory I'd fought to bury came flooding back at once.
A year ago, Dustin's older brother died in a car accident. His sister-in-law, Alice Dotson, lost her mind. She clung to Dustin, called him "honey," gripped him like he was the last piece of driftwood in a shipwreck.
Dustin didn't push her away.
"Cecily," he'd said, "she's carrying my brother's child. She can't be upset. Just bear with it for now. Once the baby's born, I'll tell her the truth."
So I bore it.
I bore it when I was moved out of our home and left to hide alone in a hotel. I bore it when they appeared everywhere together, playing the loving "husband and wife" for the whole world. I bore it when sneaking a weekend visit with my own husband made me feel like a criminal.
Until today. Alice found out I was pregnant and came at me like a woman possessed, screaming that I was the whore destroying her family. I clenched my jaw and said nothing.
Until her stiletto heel swung toward my belly, and every drop of humiliation I'd swallowed finally detonated inside my chest.
I shielded my three-month bump and snarled, "I'm not the other woman! Dustin and I have been married for three years, and your husband has been dead—"
The words died in my throat. A large hand clamped around it, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.
Above me, Dustin's face was terrifyingly dark.
"I told you," he said, each word bitten off like a verdict, "she is not to be upset. Under any circumstances."
In that instant, I looked at him and realized I didn't recognize him at all.
He didn't ask if I'd been hurt. He didn't spare a thought for the child inside me. He simply shoved me aside, pulled Alice into his arms, and murmured to her in a voice so tender it could have cradled glass: "Sweetheart, don't waste your energy on her. Let's go home."
But Alice wasn't finished. She twisted in his embrace and shrieked, "What about that bastard she's carrying?!"
Dustin's gaze drifted over my stomach, light and dismissive, like he was looking at something that belonged in the trash.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
Cold crawled up my spine. Somewhere deep inside me, something shattered.
I braced myself against the wall, coughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I couldn't tell anymore whether they were from the pain or from the part of me that had just died.
Seven days.
I only needed seven days, and I could leave the man who had turned me into a joke. Leave this city soaked in my grief.
No more silent suffering as Mrs. Delgado. I was going to live for myself.
...
It all happened that morning. Alice used her "Mrs. Delgado" privileges to sweet-talk the hotel manager into handing over my keycard.
She swiped open my door. Before I could react, her bodyguard ripped the thin nightgown off my body. Her manicured nails raked across my face, leaving trails of burning, bloody scratches.
My husband appeared. He didn't help me. He wrapped both arms around that woman and held her tight, making me look like the real intruder—someone who deserved every blow, every insult.
Doors along the hallway swung open one by one. Strangers crowded into their doorframes, pointing, whispering, sneering.
"She deserves it. Homewreckers always get what's coming!"
"Stealing someone's husband wasn't enough—she got knocked up too! Probably trying to use the bastard to climb the ladder!"
Things flew at me. Eggs. Garbage. A half-empty water bottle someone had been drinking from. The sticky liquid dripped down my hair, and I threw my arms over my face, but someone's phone camera was already aimed right at me.
"Look at this, everyone! This is what happens to homewreckers! Let the whole world see this little tramp's face!"
I was being livestreamed.
My half-naked body. The bloody scratches on my face. The desperate way I curled around my belly. Thousands of people watched, cursed, and spat venom.
"I'm not the other woman! My baby isn't a bastard!" I screamed until my throat tore, but my voice drowned beneath the roar. "He's my husband!"
I was a cockroach dragged into the light, shaking from head to toe with humiliation.
I looked up at Dustin. Save me. My eyes begged.
His gaze landed on me for a brief moment, then slid away, weightless. Like he was watching a scene that had nothing to do with him.
Something inside me collapsed for good. Three years ago, my parents had warned me: the way Dustin looked at me held no real love—only novelty, only the thrill of the chase. I was nothing but a shiny new toy a spoiled heir had finally gotten his hands on.
But swept up in his relentless pursuit, I'd brushed their words aside like wind. To marry him, I'd cut ties with my family entirely.
Now I understood. I'd been pathetically, pitifully stupid.
Only after the abuse had nearly drowned me did Dustin give a slight jerk of his chin, signaling his bodyguards to shut down the livestreams. He'd timed it perfectly—let me suffer just enough to "learn my lesson," then tossed me a scrap of mercy like charity.
I steadied myself against the wall. Every inch of me trembled.
"Dustin, I don't understand." My voice was raw, scraped down to sandpaper. "She miscarried ages ago. How much longer do you expect me to wait? I'm not the mistress. Alice Dotson is—"
Crack.
His palm struck my face with every ounce of force he had. My skull rang. The world went black for three full seconds.
"Cecily Harding." Each syllable fell like a hammer blow, his eyes brimming with threat. "Don't forget—my wife is Alice Dotson."
Alice swept her gaze over me, triumph radiating from every pore. Then she nestled into Dustin's arms, lips curling, and held up her hand with a little wave. "Honey, I broke my fresh manicure teaching that homewrecker a lesson."
Dustin took her hand and rubbed her fingers, his expression so gentle it burned.
"It's fine," he said. "I'll get you the best nail artist in the city. A hundred new sets—pick whichever you like."
Then he took her hand and walked away.
I stood there, numb. The overhead light was blinding, but I was so cold my teeth chattered.
A long time passed before I dragged myself to the bathroom. I scrubbed the filth from my skin, cleaned the dried blood from my face, and dabbed ointment onto every wound, one by one, staring at my reflection.
The woman in the mirror was wrecked. Ugly. Unrecognizable. Tears blurred my vision as I dialed my father's number. "Dad, I'm leaving him. For good."
With his support behind me, I set out to find a divorce lawyer.
The elevator doors opened onto the underground parking garage, and my feet froze to the concrete.
Dustin's silver Maybach sat right ahead.
The window was half-down. Alice's slender arms were looped around Dustin's neck. She tilted her face up and pressed her lips to his.
Dustin paused for a fraction of a second. Then his hand found the back of her head, and he deepened the kiss.
Something collapsed inside my chest. The wall I'd built from self-deception—the lie I'd told myself for nearly a year, that he was only pretending to be Alice's husband because he had no choice.
Now I knew. There had never been any reluctance. He had wanted her all along.
Nausea surged without warning. I doubled over, gripping a concrete pillar, dry-heaving so violently I thought my insides would come up.
I staggered into my car and dialed the hospital.
"I'd like to schedule a termination."
"How far along are you?"
"Three months."
I lowered my head, pressing my hand against my belly.
This baby had been so hard to conceive—a miracle after the miscarriage six months ago. I'd believed it was the universe's way of making things right. That the three of us were finally going to be happy.
But now.
I closed my eyes. Tears slipped from the corners, unstoppable.
Baby, I'm so sorry. But Mommy can't bring you into a world with no love.
"Ms. Harding?" The voice on the other end pulled me back. "Your procedure is scheduled for two days from now. Please arrive on time."
"All right. Two days. I'll be there."
A knock rapped against the car window.
I whipped my head around.
Dustin Delgado stood outside the door. The dim garage lights stretched his shadow long across the concrete. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and the sharp planes of his face were carved into hard, cold lines by the half-light.
Those deep-set eyes—the ones that had once made me fall—were locked on me.
"Cecily." His brow furrowed. "Two days from now? Where are you going?"
2### Chapter 2
There was a time when Dustin's voice—low, magnetic, rough at the edges—could make my knees buckle just by saying my name.
Now there was no warmth in it at all. The two syllables left his mouth like a sentence being handed down, and the cheek he'd slapped throbbed all over again.
I kept my expression blank and forced my voice flat.
"Did you forget? My prenatal checkup is the day after tomorrow."
Of course he didn't remember. He'd never once gone with me since I'd gotten pregnant. I'd brought it up a few times, and every time he'd given me the same pained look: "Sorry, Cecily. I'm afraid Alice will find out and have another episode. She's only just started to stabilize."
He was quiet for a moment, studying my expressionless face. Then: "You know I only said that about getting rid of the baby to calm her down."
I didn't answer. Was I supposed to thank him?
I was done groveling. Weakness and tears only built monuments to the enemy's victory. Every smug smile Alice wore was cemented with my humiliation.
When I continued to ignore him, Dustin did something unprecedented—he volunteered. "I should be free in two days. I can go with you."
I nearly laughed out loud. The classic routine: crack the whip, then offer a sugar cube.
Once upon a time, I'd been a beggar at love's door, hoping he might spare me a scrap of affection between his visits to Alice. A crumb of sweetness from him could keep me glowing for three days.
Not anymore. I wanted nothing from him.
"No need—"
Before I could finish, his phone rang, the sound ricocheting off the concrete walls of the parking garage.
That ringtone. I knew it well—a custom tone he'd set just for Alice. Tacky and grating, but it suited her perfectly.
Dustin glanced at the screen. His entire face changed. The cold, tight line of his mouth softened into something tender. That granite jaw, perpetually carved in ice, thawed under the dim garage lights until it was almost gentle.
He turned his back to me. When he spoke, his voice was silk—careful, reverent, as if he'd become a different man entirely.
"Yeah, all taken care of. I'm on my way to you right now."
He hung up and slid the phone into his jacket.
"I need to get back to her. If I don't, her depression will flare up again." His tone turned clipped, urgent. No "Does your face still hurt?" No "Where are you headed—do you need a ride?"
He was simply in a rush to return to her side.
"Go. She needs you."
A cold laugh escaped me. I slammed my foot on the gas and tore out of that suffocating space.
In the rearview mirror, Dustin's silhouette ducked into another car. We drove off in opposite directions—our lives splitting further apart with every mile. And yet he assumed I'd always be standing right where he left me.
After all, I once loved him enough to give up everything.
By the time I arrived at what used to be "home" with the divorce papers in my bag, night had already fallen.
I'd poured my heart into this house when we got married. I'd designed it myself—handpicked every material, supervised every detail. Every vintage brick, every light fixture, every potted plant, chosen to make it exactly the way I wanted. I'd believed this would be the castle where Dustin and I spent the rest of our lives together.
Then Alice moved in as the lady of the house, and I lost even the right to walk through the front door.
I swallowed the bitterness churning inside me and punched in the door code.
Wrong. I tried again. Wrong. And again. Wrong.
I paused. Then, with something close to masochistic certainty, I keyed in Alice's birthday.
The door opened.
The cold hit me like being thrown into a frozen lake.
Dustin had once told me this code was our wedding anniversary—that he would never change it. Turns out promises could be discarded as easily as feathers on the wind.
I stepped inside, and the house was unrecognizable.
The warm vintage brown tones I loved had been replaced by garish pink. My carefully chosen sofa, my furniture—all gone.
In their place: a rhinestone-encrusted princess sofa, lace-trimmed curtains, an entire wall covered in pink feather decorations. Every inch dripped with a saccharine "little princess" aesthetic. Alice's taste, everywhere I looked.
I was a stranger in my own home.
"Oh? Miss Harding?"
Behind me, the elderly housekeeper hurried over, her eyes sweeping me up and down in surprise.
"What are you doing here? Mr. Delgado gave strict orders—you're absolutely not allowed inside. If the missus sees you, it could trigger another episode."
Miss Harding? The missus?
Those two titles from her mouth landed like slaps.
Mockery flooded my eyes. I turned and headed straight for the stairs.
"You can't go up there! Mr. Delgado is busy!" The housekeeper's voice pitched higher with panic as she reached out to grab me.
"Get out of my way."
I shoved past her and took the stairs two at a time.
The master bedroom door was ajar. I pushed it open and walked in.
My brain whited out.
Where my custom double bed used to stand, directly facing the doorway, was an enormous waterbed.
On it, two bodies tangled together.
Alice's head was thrown back, moaning shamelessly. The man on top of her, driving into her with that perfect, powerful torso—I would have recognized him if he'd been reduced to ash.
I stared at the muscles of his back, the ones my hands had traced a thousand times. I watched the way he buried himself in her, lost in her, intoxicated. Time froze.
It wasn't until Alice's eyes locked onto mine—her moans sharpening into a scream—that I snapped back to reality.
So this was what the housekeeper meant by "Mr. Delgado is busy."
So this was how thoroughly he played along with her. All the way to the bed.
My vision darkened. My legs nearly gave out. I fought with everything I had not to turn and run. Then Dustin looked over his shoulder and saw me. The flash of panic in his eyes dissolved instantly into raw fury.
"Get out!"
Alice thrashed in his arms like a woman possessed. "Dustin Delgado, have you no shame?! You brought your mistress into our home?! I'll kill you, you bastard!"
She slapped him hard across the face, then snatched the ashtray from the nightstand and hurled it at my head.
Crack. Pain exploded across my forehead. Something warm slid down my cheek, and my vision went red.
The agony turned my whole body numb, as though someone had split my heart open with an axe. But Dustin didn't so much as glance my way. He held Alice's hand, his voice low and coaxing:
"Don't be upset, sweetheart. I cut things off with her a long time ago."
"Your hand's all red. Does it hurt?"
A crimson handprint blazed across his cheek, and he wore it like a badge of honor.
I stood in the doorway, blood streaming down my face—the picture of a disgraced mistress, wretched and deserving of every bit of it.
A laugh broke out of me.
I lifted my hand, wiped the blood from my face, and pulled my gaze away from them. When I spoke, my voice was as steady as if I were discussing quarterly numbers.
"Mr. Delgado, I just need your signature. I landed the new project for the company. Once you sign, it's officially in effect."
I pulled a stack of documents from my bag—the divorce agreement and my resignation letter tucked neatly between the project papers—and flipped to the signature page.
I'd nearly killed myself for Delgado Group these past few years. The most grueling projects, the most impossible clients, the most cutthroat negotiations—I'd brought in hundreds of millions for him, at minimum. Dustin knew my value better than anyone. There was no way he'd let me resign.
And the marriage?
I'd once been intoxicated by his ferocious possessiveness. He'd get jealous if I so much as glanced at another man. He'd pull me into his arms and growl, "You're mine. Only mine." But when he stopped loving, he'd sooner shred what he no longer wanted than allow it to slip from his grasp on its own.
So I wasn't sure he'd agree to a divorce.
As I held the stack of papers out to him, my fingertips trembled—terrified he might actually flip through and read every page.
3### Chapter 3
"Tell her to get out already!" Alice shrieked, her eyes bloodshot as she thrashed against him. She was naked, clinging to my equally bare husband, right in front of me.
The impact of that image defied words.
I dug my nails into my palms until the pain pushed back the wave of nausea. I had no doubt that one more second and I'd vomit all over them and that revolting pink waterbed.
Fortunately, Alice's frantic urging meant Dustin didn't so much as glance at the documents.
His pen slashed across every signature line, fast and careless, like he was swatting away a fly. Then he lifted his head and fixed me with a look that said get out. Now.
I didn't linger. I grabbed the papers, turned on my heel, and slammed the door behind me.
The bang echoed down the hallway like a declaration—three years of marriage, shattered beyond repair.
I made it to the top of the stairs before my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, curled against the wall, and crumpled into myself. A bitter laugh escaped, tangled with tears I couldn't stop and blood that hadn't yet dried.
A long time passed before I wiped the mess of blood and tears from my face and forced myself upright.
"Cecily."
I turned. Dustin had followed me out. He'd thrown on loungewear, but it did nothing to hide the angry red marks across his chest—hickeys and scratch lines, vivid as accusations.
I thought he might say something. Ask about the documents. Ask whether the gash on my face needed tending.
"Don't come in unannounced again. It upsets Alice."
That was all. A cold warning. A dismissal.
"Don't worry." My voice came out so calm it startled even me. "I won't be around to upset your mistress anymore. I'm grabbing a few things and leaving, Mr. Delgado."
The word mistress landed like a slap. His expression curdled.
But I was already walking toward the guest room.
Dustin had moved all my belongings in there long ago—locked everything away so the sight of my things wouldn't upset Alice.
His gifts filled half the room. Plush teddy bears. Limited-edition Chanel bags flown in from overseas. A museum of devotion from a man who no longer existed.
Back then, he'd chased me like a man possessed. He knew I loved Chanel, so he had people ship the latest collections from abroad. He knew I loved teddy bears, so he'd bring one home from every business trip. I'd kept every single piece, imagining the day I'd have a child and could tell her the story of how her mom and dad fell in love.
I shoved it all into a suitcase. Fast. Without a shred of sentimentality.
A man's silhouette appeared in the doorway. "You're taking all of that?"
My hands didn't stop. "No. I'm throwing it away."
He paused, as if he'd misheard. "Throwing it away? All of it? These are gifts I gave you. You always treasured them. You said you'd keep them forever."
I didn't look up. I kept stuffing things into the suitcase. "People get tired of old things. That's human nature. Doesn't matter if it's a person or a possession—once it's old, you don't need it anymore."
Something strange crossed his face, a flicker of displeasure he couldn't quite mask. He wasn't used to this version of me. The Cecily who used to gaze up at him adoringly, who cherished every smile, every gift—how could she possibly throw his presents away?
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the housekeeper appeared in the doorway.
"Sir, the missus isn't feeling well. You should go check on her right away."
Dustin's expression shifted instantly to alarm. He tossed out a parting line without looking back: "Fine, throw them out. I'll buy you new ones. Finish packing and leave."
He was gone before the words finished hanging in the air. Hurried footsteps pounded up the staircase.
I smiled bitterly. He didn't need to tell me twice. I didn't want to spend another second in this house.
I crammed the last of it into the suitcase, grabbed only a small bag of essentials, and stepped out of the guest room. The moment I did, hushed laughter drifted from around the staircase landing—two of the household staff, voices low but not low enough.
"The missus really hit the jackpot, didn't she? He spoils her rotten. Cooks all three meals himself, carries the plates right to her. Honestly, his cooking's better than any restaurant."
My feet stopped moving.
"Right?" another voice chimed in. "Compared to Miss Harding, don't you think she's the one who acts like the real Mrs. Delgado? If you ask me, it's only a matter of time before the Harding girl gets tossed out for good."
"Shh, keep it down…"
"Oh, relax. She can't hear us."
I stood there, perfectly still.
Dustin used to refuse to set foot in a kitchen. He'd said a man's hands were meant for making money, not holding a spatula.
He was impossibly picky about food—he'd take a few bites of restaurant meals and push the plate away. So I cooked every meal myself, rotating through recipes to keep him interested. Some nights I'd spend three or four hours in the kitchen just to perfect a single dish he loved.
Yet somehow, in the year I hadn't known about, he'd taught himself to cook. For Alice.
All that tenderness I thought belonged to me had been given to someone else long ago.
No. Maybe it had never been mine to begin with.
The gossip continued, but I walked past as if I'd heard nothing, heading straight for the front door.
A slender, pale hand blocked my path.
Alice.
She wore an obscenely short lace nightgown, the hem barely grazing the tops of her thighs. The smell clung to her—that unmistakable, nauseating musk of what had just happened upstairs—and it flooded my nostrils.
I was about to tell her to move when she produced something from behind her hand.
A pregnancy test.
Two unmistakable red lines filled my vision, and the vein at my temple began to throb.
"I'm pregnant." Alice's smile spread wide, dripping with triumph and venom, like a snake flicking its tongue to show off a fresh kill. "Dustin was thrilled when he found out."
Her lips kept moving. "You saw it all just now, didn't you? To celebrate our baby, he was absolutely insatiable with me. That waterbed? He bought it just for me. Said it makes things more… comfortable."
Her eyes locked onto mine, hungry for the breakdown. Waiting for the tears. Waiting for me to fall apart and flee the way I always had before.
But I was eerily calm. I refused to give her what she wanted.
My lack of reaction infuriated her.
Frustration radiated off her like heat from a furnace, so intense her smug smile began to crack at the edges. She leaned closer, voice dropping to something more vicious.
"Oh," she murmured, soft and poisonous, like an old friend sharing a secret. "I know what will break you."
She brought her lips to my ear and spoke slowly, savoring every word:
"For instance… that baby you lost six months ago. Did you really think it was an accident?"
Every muscle in my body locked.
My blood turned to ice water.
"What did you just say?"
4### Chapter 4
Something snapped inside my head. I lunged forward and seized Alice's arm, gripping so hard my knuckles went white. "What do you mean it wasn't an accident? Explain yourself!"
In that instant, I understood. This woman wasn't insane. She hadn't lost her memory. Every single bit of it was deliberate.
"Please, Cecily, stop! Don't do this to me!"
Alice's voice transformed in a heartbeat. Terrified. Fragile. A trembling little doe cornered by a predator. Then she grabbed my wrist, angling her body as though I were the one shoving her, and threw herself headfirst into the wall.
Before I could even react, Dustin came charging out of nowhere and slammed into me. I hit the floor hard, the impact rattling through every organ in my body.
"Alice, are you okay?" His voice shook. His hands flew over her head, her face, her body, searching frantically for injuries.
"Oh God, she's lost her mind..." Alice curled into his arms, whimpering weakly. The posture, the expression, every micro-movement polished to perfection, as if she'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
"That vile woman attacked me," she sobbed, her voice choked with tears yet every syllable bitten off with surgical precision. "She grabbed my head and slammed it into the wall. She kept screaming that she's your wife. My head hurts so much..."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. So innocent. So pitiful.
Dustin turned to look at me. His gaze cut like a blade dragged across bare skin. I opened my mouth, but my throat sealed shut. Not a single word came out.
"I didn't," I finally managed, my voice cracking. "I didn't slam her. She did it to herself. She's lying!"
The fury in Dustin's eyes only deepened.
"So now you're calling her a liar? Calling my wife a liar?"
"Wife?" I couldn't stop myself from repeating the word. My expression must have been grotesque. "Dustin, who exactly is your wife?"
He shielded Alice behind him. Only her eyes were visible past his shoulder, fixed on me, glittering with undisguised triumph.
"Shut your mouth!" The rage in his dark pupils had become something uncontainable. "You've gone too far, Cecily. Alice is fragile enough as it is. How could you be this cruel to her?"
"She slammed herself into that wall!"
The words tore out of me in a ragged scream, my voice splitting apart.
Then I remembered what Alice had said moments ago. My head snapped up, and I couldn't stop myself from hurling the question at the bastard standing in front of me.
"My baby. The one I lost. Was that really an accident?!"
"Enough!" Dustin sucked in a breath and grabbed me by the collar, hauling me close. His voice dropped to a snarl only the two of us could hear.
"Whatever Alice told you, she's mentally unstable. You can't take the words of a deranged person seriously."
"That baby." His gaze cooled degree by degree until there was nothing left but ice. "You have no one to blame but yourself. You were pregnant and still went running around in the middle of the night. That's what caused the miscarriage. Who else is there to blame?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did he really not know why I'd gone out that night?
It was this woman, this fraud playing her little madness charade, who had insulted one of his biggest clients to his face, called the man a backwater hick, and sent him storming out on the spot.
To salvage a deal worth hundreds of millions a year, I'd dragged myself out into the pouring rain in the dead of night to beg forgiveness.
I knelt outside that hotel entrance for three solid hours. My knees were raw and bleeding by the time the man finally relented, saying he'd give Delgado Group one more chance, for my sake alone.
And in Dustin's mouth, that became me "running around." Whatever warmth was left inside me turned to ash.
"Lately, you've really disappointed me." He looked down at me the way someone looks at a disobedient pet, his eyes brimming with nothing but impatience. "Someone take her to the basement. She can stay there until she's reflected on what she did wrong."
A violent tremor ripped through my body. Did he not know I was afraid of the dark?
I clutched the hem of his jacket, begging. "No! Dustin, don't you remember? I'm afraid of the dark."
After we married, once he found out about my fear, Dustin always left a light on for me no matter how late I came home. He never let me go near dark, cramped places like the basement.
Now he was going to lock me in there. For her.
Dustin pried my fingers off one by one, staring down at me from his full height. His voice held no trace of warmth. "Of course I remember."
"But if I don't do this, how will you ever learn your lesson? How will you stop tormenting Alice?"
No matter how I struggled, I couldn't earn a single look of mercy from him.
All he saw was that insignificant red mark on Alice's forehead.
He couldn't see the blood on my face. The swollen handprint. He could only see Alice.
A wretched laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
I gasped for air like a fish dragged onto dry land, my body limp, boneless, as the bodyguards hauled me into the basement and tossed me inside.
The heavy door groaned shut. In the last sliver of light, I saw Alice nestled in Dustin's arms, peering over his shoulder at me, her lips curving into a smile as sweet as it was venomous.
I closed my eyes in despair.
Darkness swallowed me whole. I spiraled into endless panic, endless terror, until consciousness slipped away entirely and everything went black.
5### Chapter 5
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the hotel. I had no idea when or how I'd been brought here.
Sunlight sliced through the window. I stared at the ceiling for a long time before the memories pieced themselves together. The basement. The darkness. Passing out. They'd tossed me in there like a broken piece of furniture they no longer had use for.
Dustin's messages sat waiting on my phone.
"Letting it slide this time. Alice's condition is unstable. You'd better not provoke her again, or I'll make sure you learn your lesson."
"I'm taking her abroad for treatment. I won't be able to go to your prenatal appointments."
I'd barely finished reading when my phone buzzed again—the notification tone I'd set for priority alerts. Alice had updated her social media.
In the photo, a man's familiar back filled the frame. A woman rested her head on his shoulder, the two of them nestled together against a backdrop of glaciers and penguins in Antarctica.
The caption was only a few words: "With you, to the ends of the earth."
I stared at that photo for a very, very long time.
When we got married, I'd made a list of all the places I wanted to visit with Dustin. Every time I brought it up, he'd say the same thing: "Sure, Cecily. Once I close this deal, we'll go."
"Cecily, just let me get through this busy stretch, and we'll go."
"Once the project launches, I promise I'll take you."
"Once..."
So I waited. And waited. I waited past our wedding anniversary. I waited through a pregnancy and a miscarriage. I waited as time slipped through my fingers like water and love dissolved like smoke, and still, not once did we take that trip for two.
The first place on my list had been Antarctica. To see the penguins.
He'd gone to Antarctica after all. With Alice Dotson.
How absurd.
I closed out of Alice's page and tossed my phone onto the bed. A notification popped up on the screen: Your scheduled termination procedure is today at 3:00 PM.
I rushed to the hospital. The nurse glanced around when she saw me alone, professional concern settling across her face. "Where's your family? You may need someone to look after you post-op."
"My husband is dead."
I said it calmly. She blinked, then her expression softened into sympathy.
She helped me change into a surgical gown, her hands gentle as she guided me onto the gurney.
The ceiling tiles slid past overhead, one by one, as I was wheeled down the corridor. Harsh white light carried me into the operating room.
The surgical lamp blazed down, so bright it made my eyes ache. I closed them. Cold instruments probed inside me. A tiny life, scraped away from my body. Tears blurred my vision once more.
The next time I surfaced, it was the sound of voices outside my room that pulled me back.
"To help Mrs. Delgado carry the baby to term, Mr. Delgado actually flew in the best specialists from all over the world to our hospital. I heard he even got certified as a nutritionist, just to make sure the Delgado heir is born healthy."
A second woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "But I heard this 'Mrs. Delgado' is actually his sister-in-law? So what about his real wife? That poor woman..."
"Shh! Do you want to get fired? That topic is off-limits at this hospital. Keep your mouth shut!"
Footsteps retreated. The corridor fell silent.
I lay on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. Motionless.
My child had never once had his father present for a single prenatal checkup. Not one, right up until the termination.
Her child was given the best of everything the world had to offer.
I slowly turned my head toward the television mounted on the wall. An entertainment segment was playing. A private jet sat on a runway, and Dustin was helping Alice down the stairs, a procession of bodyguards, attendants, and medical staff trailing behind them.
"Sources say Delgado Group CEO Dustin Delgado has spared no expense in chartering a private jet for a global trip to pamper his wife during her pregnancy. The couple's devotion has left the public green with envy..."
I remembered an urgent meeting once that required a fourteen-hour flight. I'd mentioned it offhandedly: "It'd be nice if we could take the private jet. It'd be so much more comfortable."
He'd looked at me with open disapproval. "Cecily, if you can't handle a little discomfort, how are you going to set an example for the employees at Delgado Group? As CEO, I have to lead by example."
Now I understood. He wasn't principled. He simply didn't think I was worth making an exception for.
Over the next few days, Alice posted more from their travels.
Notre-Dame Cathedral. She leaned into Dustin's arms, Gothic spires rising behind them.
The Pampas grasslands. He grilled steak for her with his own hands. She photographed his busy silhouette and his smoke-flushed face.
The Great Rift Valley in East Africa. He crouched on the ground and caught her vomit in his bare hands. The photo was blurry, as if taken candidly, but the caption dripped with pride: "Morning sickness hit. He panicked and just caught it with his hands."
Every landscape I'd fantasized about a thousand times, every destination I'd never reached—Alice Dotson had claimed them all.
I was more certain than ever. Alice knew exactly what she was doing. She'd been faking her illness the entire time. All of it, to steal Dustin from me.
Finally, the sixth day arrived. Tomorrow evening was the time my father and I had agreed upon.
The sun was sinking. I stood by the window, slid the wedding band off my ring finger, and dropped it into the trash can with a sharp clink.
Out of nowhere, a large hand with pronounced knuckles reached past me and fished it out bare-handed.
"Cecily, you threw away our wedding ring?" Dustin's fingers were smeared with filth from the trash, but he gripped the ring tight, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Why?"
His little vacation with her was over, then.
"No reason." My voice was flat. "You stopped wearing yours a long time ago."
I glanced at his ring finger. Our wedding band was long gone. In its place sat a custom-made matching ring—the one he'd spent a fortune designing as a set with Alice's.
"I've told you over and over, Alice and I are just putting on an act." His voice rose, edged with the kind of anger that comes from being caught. "Do you have to be this unreasonable?"
Unreasonable. In the past, those words would have gutted me. I would have been devastated, drowning in hurt.
But now, even feeling hurt was just another form of self-destruction.
"You're right. I'm being unreasonable." My tone was as flat as a weather report. "Happy now?"
He froze, as if he couldn't believe those words had come out of my mouth. Then irritation creased his brow, and he changed the subject with blunt force. "I don't have time for this. The family banquet is tomorrow. Be there early."
I paused. "You still need me there?" The Delgado family banquet—that symbol of status and belonging.
"You are carrying my child, after all. Come quietly, and don't stir up trouble with Alice."
The way he said it, like he was granting me a favor. As if I really were the other woman, permitted to attend only because I happened to be carrying Dustin Delgado's baby, and even then, I had to sneak in through the back door.
It didn't matter. This would be the last time anyway.
Dustin fixed me with a hard stare. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes—a thread of unease he couldn't quite name.
I nodded.
"Alright. I'll be there on time."
He exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders so subtly it was almost imperceptible.
6### Chapter 6
Time slipped by, and before I knew it, the night of the Delgado family banquet had arrived.
I stepped into the grand hall on the hotel penthouse floor, and the room blazed with light. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a brilliant glow over every smiling face. A champagne tower rose impossibly high, and a string quartet played softly in the corner.
Dustin and Alice stood at the center of the crowd in matching silver evening wear, looking like a picture-perfect couple under the lights.
Alice clung to his arm, wearing a poised, gracious smile.
Guests raised their glasses one after another, faces bright with flattery, compliments pouring out like a tide: "Mr. and Mrs. Delgado are truly a match made in heaven! So handsome, so elegant together!"
"I heard Mrs. Delgado is expecting again? Congratulations!"
"Look at how Mr. Delgado dotes on his wife. What a lucky woman!"
Everyone was offering their blessings, as if every single person had forgotten that Alice was the wife of Dustin's late elder brother, not his. No one dared ask whose child she was carrying.
I watched the whole spectacle and felt nothing. No pain. Just the absurdity of it all.
I turned and walked toward an empty corner.
"Cecily."
Dustin caught up and grabbed my arm.
"Are you upset? You know the guests only said those things because they're afraid of setting Alice off again."
"Oh, and what about the pregnancy?" I turned to face him, a bitter smile curling my lips. "Your brother's been dead for years. Did he crawl out of his grave to get her pregnant?"
The color drained from Dustin's face. A vein throbbed along his neck.
"What kind of attitude is that?" His voice was barely controlled, fury simmering beneath every word. "Can't you show even a shred of the grace expected of Mrs. Delgado?"
His eyes were black with something dangerous, a pressure that made it hard to breathe. But I didn't back down. Not this time.
My hand drifted to my flat stomach without thinking. The smile on my face turned bitter. I wanted to ask him why I should show grace to the woman who had cost me my child.
But the words wouldn't come.
Something in my eyes must have reached him, because a flicker of unease crossed his face. His anger dimmed, just slightly.
"Cecily, I know you've been wronged."
He reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist. I flinched, but he was already leaning down, his burning lips pressing toward mine.
"Ahhh!!"
Before I could push him away, a scream tore through the entire hall.
I turned and saw Alice standing a few yards away, her face white as paper.
"What are you doing?!" Her voice was shrill enough to pierce eardrums. "You shameless homewrecker! Why do you keep throwing yourself at my husband? Why?!"
Then something wild flooded her eyes, and she spun and bolted toward the terrace.
"Alice!"
Dustin shoved me aside without a second's hesitation and chased after her. "Alice, don't do anything stupid!"
The force of his push sent me stumbling several steps before I caught my balance. The crowd surged past me, rushing toward the terrace.
Alice had climbed onto the ledge. Wind whipped her gown at that height, the fabric snapping like a flag. She stared straight at me, her eyes filled with nothing but hatred. "Cecily Harding, you worthless tramp! You keep seducing my husband, so I'll die right in front of you!"
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Dustin stood a few steps away from her, his eyes full of regret and raw terror.
"Baby," his voice shook, and he inched forward with agonizing caution, "please come down. Just come down, and I'll never see that woman again."
Alice gripped the railing and shook her head like a woman possessed. "I don't believe you! Dustin Delgado, you bastard, I will never believe you again!"
"What do I have to do? Tell me. I'll agree to anything!"
Everyone held their breath, completely taken in by her flawless performance.
And I stood at the back of the crowd, suddenly so exhausted I just wanted to leave.
"I want that filthy whore on her knees! I want her to apologize and admit she's the homewrecker who stole another woman's husband!"
What?
I looked up in disbelief, only to watch Dustin take a deep breath and turn to me, his voice like ice. "Apologize to Alice. Now."
"Tell her you're the other woman."
My breathing stopped. My heartbeat stopped. My blood froze solid.
Seconds of silence passed before my entire body began to tremble. "Dustin Delgado, you want me to kneel before the woman who stole my husband and announce to everyone here that I'm the mistress?"
Dustin seized my arm. "Yes. Now."
My eyes flooded with red. "Never."
The word ground out through clenched teeth, soaked in blood and tears, carrying the last scrap of dignity I had left. Dustin froze for a split second. In that instant, I wrenched free of his grip and turned on my heel.
I tore down the corridor, burst into the restroom, and locked myself in the last stall.
I had never imagined Dustin would do this to me. Even if the love was gone, I never thought he would make me stand before a room full of people and let my dignity be trampled into the ground.
The tears came anyway.
I sat on the closed toilet lid, buried my face in my knees, and fought to steady my breathing, telling myself that this man was not worth a single tear.
Slowly, my heart rate settled. I was about to leave when the restroom door slammed open.
"Don't be mad, baby. I promise I'll have that woman gone by tomorrow. Out of this city for good."
Dustin's voice. Low, urgent, threaded with appeasement.
My hand on the stall door went slack.
"If you ever see her again, I will disappear, and you will never find me."
"I swear on my life." His voice dropped to barely a whisper, but it was deadly serious. "You're the only one I love. Have you forgotten what I did to her so you could get pregnant again?"
What did that mean?
What had he done to me? My mind went blank. I wanted to scream, to burst out and grab him and demand the truth.
The last thread of reason kept me rooted in place.
The sound of rustling clothes, fabric tearing, and then Alice's aggrieved whimper melted into soft laughter and a low moan.
"Fine," her voice was liquid, boneless, "I'll believe you one more time."
A pause. Then she spoke again, a note of testing in her tone. "But what if she finds out the truth about her little brat's miscarriage?"
Dustin's voice went cold.
"Don't worry about that. It's been six months. I've already told every doctor to keep their mouths shut. No one would dare tell her."
A chill crawled from the soles of my feet to the crown of my skull.
I stared down at my stomach. Alice's words from before crashed back into me. She had said my miscarriage was no accident.
At the time, I'd dismissed it as another one of her provocations. But what if the truth was far worse?
7### Chapter 7
"I still can't believe she was in the dark this whole time," Alice laughed. "You told her the miscarriage happened because she went out in the middle of the night, and she actually bought it."
"That's what she owed you as a mistress," Dustin scoffed. "She'll swallow whatever lie I feed her."
My body could barely hold itself upright, but I forced myself to keep listening.
"Sweetheart, you terminated that little bastard and extracted the fetal stem cells just to repair my womb." Alice's voice dripped with syrupy sweetness. "I'm truly touched. As long as you promise never to go near that tramp again, I'll forgive you."
I clamped my hand over my mouth so hard my fingers nearly tore through my lips.
Thunder cracked through my skull, one bolt after another, shredding everything I thought I knew.
The baby I believed I'd lost on that rainy night—lost by accident, lost through my own carelessness—had been murdered by its own father.
To repair his fake wife's womb.
So that woman, that fraud who'd been playing insane, could carry his child instead.
"I'll give you anything you want. You're carrying the Delgado heir now, so you can't get too worked up, understand?"
Alice smiled, sweet as poison. "Fine. I won't hold it against her anymore. After all, it was her baby that made it possible for me to conceive yours."
Breathing became almost impossible. My vision blurred again, and for one terrible instant, I thought I was dying.
Through the crack in the door, I could see them at the vanity counter—clothes disheveled, bodies tangled together. Alice's nails raked down the hard muscles of Dustin's back as they moved in a frenzied rhythm.
Then she saw me.
The moment our eyes met, her moans grew louder, more theatrical.
"Slow down—didn't that little mistress ever satisfy you, baby?"
Dustin's mouth swallowed her cries before she could say more.
I collapsed onto the toilet seat like a hollowed-out shell, every last drop of life wrung from my body.
An eternity passed before they finally finished. Alice told Dustin to leave first.
Then a knock came on the stall door.
"Come on out." Her voice was thick with lazy satisfaction. "He's gone."
I pushed the door open and stepped out.
She stood there, deliberately, unhurriedly pulling her dress down from her chest—putting on a show, displaying the fresh marks scattered across her skin.
"I'm going to keep you as the dirty little secret forever." Her voice was feather-soft, as casual as commenting on the weather. "So if you know what's good for you, walk away from him on your own."
Her gaze dropped to my belly. "You think you'll actually carry his child to term? No. I'll make you taste that loss all over again. Every brat you lose will be nothing more than a sacrifice on the altar of my love with my husband."
Pure, white-hot fury shattered whatever was left of my restraint. I swung my hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had.
"You vile woman—give me back my baby!"
"Ahhh!"
She crashed to the floor, and her shriek pierced through the entire restroom.
Dustin burst in within seconds, bodyguards and a crowd of guests flooding in behind him.
He saw Alice crumpled on the ground, sobbing. He saw the vivid handprint blazing across her cheek. His eyes turned bloodshot in an instant—a beast provoked beyond reason.
"What did you do to her?!"
He scooped Alice up, passed her to a bodyguard, then turned and bore down on me in long, furious strides.
A tearing pain ripped across my scalp. Dustin seized my hair and wrenched it back so hard my entire face was forced upward.
"I'm done going easy on you, Cecily. Apologize to Alice. Now."
I thrashed in his grip, my scalp screaming with pain, but I didn't care anymore.
"She's not insane! She never lost her memory!" The words tore out of me in a raw, desperate scream. "Dustin, listen to me—she's been faking it from the very beginning! Believe me!"
"Enough!"
His roar detonated like a gunshot, and the room went dead silent.
My heart hammered so violently I could hear it pounding in my ears.
"I don't know what she's talking about," Alice whimpered in the bodyguard's arms, crying so pitifully, so helplessly. Her voice hitched like a startled fawn's. "Sweetheart, I'm so scared. Why won't she just leave us alone? I only told her I'd give her a generous sum if she'd walk away from you, and she said she'd kill me and my baby."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Every condemning stare landed on me, as if I were the monster in this room.
"With a temper like that, she's clearly unfit to be Mrs. Delgado," someone murmured.
"Poor Miss Dotson. If she loses another husband and child, she won't survive it." Another voice, sympathetic and resolute.
"If you ask me, Mr. Delgado should just—"
The voices crashed over me in waves, and Dustin stared at me like I was his sworn enemy, his gaze cold as a blade.
"Get on your knees. Bow your head. Beg Alice for forgiveness."
A violent tremor racked my body.
"No—Dustin, I'm carrying your child!"
I stumbled backward, both hands pressed protectively over my stomach, grasping for any last shred of his mercy—even though the baby was already gone.
But he only stared at me, nothing in those eyes but frozen contempt.
"Do it."
He didn't want me. He didn't want our child. I'd known it for a long time, but the knowing didn't stop my heart from ripping apart.
The next second, a bodyguard clamped down on my arms and forced me downward. I refused to yield. A boot slammed into the back of my knee.
The pain was blinding, as if the bone had split in two.
"Ahh!" I screamed as my knees hit the floor.
Someone grabbed my hair. "Bow. Apologize."
The grip was merciless, treating my skull like a ball to be bounced off the ice-cold tile.
"Never!" The room spun around me. I wanted to fight back, to run. But I was powerless.
The guard gripped my head and drove it into the floor again and again.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack…
Blood ran down—warm, sticky—streaming along my brow and into my eyes. The world dissolved into a blurred wash of red.
Through that red, I saw Alice.
She was curled in Dustin's arms like a frightened rabbit, her body trembling delicately. But behind those wide, tearful eyes, triumph glittered like a blade catching light.
Dustin bowed his head and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, his touch impossibly gentle. He stroked her hair, slow and tender, as though she were something infinitely precious.
What a perfect couple.
What a magnificent love story.
The blood kept flowing, dripping onto the floor one drop at a time—a libation poured in honor of their magnificent love.
My screams faded to nothing. Not because the pain had stopped, but because I had nothing left. My lips were bitten through, my throat shredded raw. All that remained was the ragged sound of my breathing—like a fish gasping on dry land.
"Mr. Delgado, she—she's badly hurt." Someone spoke up, hesitant and uneasy.
Dustin finally lifted his head and looked at me. He saw it—the horrifying blood, the split flesh of my forehead.
"Just apologize," he said after a pause, something unreadable flickering through his voice, "and I'll let you go."
I stared at him and the woman in his arms. Every syllable cost me everything I had left.
"Over… my… dead… body."
Alice whimpered again, soft and pitiful.
"Let it go. Even though she wanted to kill me, I can't bear to watch this." She buried her face against his chest, her shoulders quivering. "Let's just leave. The baby's kicking—I don't feel well."
Dustin's voice turned impossibly tender. "You're too kind. That's exactly why she walks all over you."
Then he lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a bride on her wedding night.
As he passed me, he stopped. His words fell like ice.
"If there's a next time, you won't get off this easy. Cecily—for the sake of the child in your belly, I suggest you learn your place."
Then he carried her out and disappeared through the door.
The bodyguards dispersed. The crowd scattered.
I lay on the freezing floor like a discarded rag, thrown aside without a second thought. They stepped over me, every single one of them, and not a soul reached down. My body was heavy as stone. Even the agony in my chest had gone numb—or maybe it hurt so much that feeling itself had shut down.
I tried to get up. I couldn't move.
My eyelids grew heavier. Heavier. The red behind my eyes dimmed, then darkened to black.
Am I dying?
"Cecily? God damn it—Cecily! Who did this to my daughter?!"
A furious roar tore through the darkness like a crack of light. That voice—so familiar, so impossibly far away, as if it were reaching me from inside a dream.
I fought to open my eyes. Blurred shapes rushed toward me, frantic footsteps closing in.
Then a figure bent down. A face, hazy through the blood, carved with fury and heartbreak.
My father.
His hands were shaking as he reached for me, so careful, so terrified of causing more pain, as he gathered me into his arms. His eyes were red. Tears streamed down a face I had never—not once in my life—seen cry.
"Daddy's here. Daddy's taking you home."
I could finally go home.
The darkness swallowed me whole.