On that ill-fated night when my husband’s childhood sweetheart, Maisie, was found intoxicated and nearly assaulted, our lives took a twisted turn. Soon after, we both carried the shared weight of pregnancy. On the day I went into labor, Rowen Harris handed me divorce papers.

"Maisie is getting ready for her big return to the film industry. I need to give her and the baby a legitimate place in my life, or the scandal could destroy her career," he said.

I dragged my weakened body forward and signed the papers, outwardly composed despite my turmoil. In a previous life, I refused to let go. I went public with my daughter’s story, exposing Maisie Baker, the actress who knowingly became the other woman.

She faced relentless online harassment, lost all her endorsements, and the crushing weight of compensation demands led her to a tragic demise. Rowen Harris managed her affairs coldly, even as he enabled Maisie’s fans to publicly vilify me, attempted arson, nearly killing me and my child. Only when I saw him bolt the door did I understand he wanted us gone.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment he handed me the divorce papers.

Due to a premature birth, my daughter, Thalia, was immediately placed in an incubator. Just then, Rowen presented me with divorce documents once more.

"You know, Camille, before everything happened, Maisie was a rising Hollywood star. Her star has dimmed over these past ten months," he explained. "If news breaks about a child born out of wedlock, the backlash could obliterate her."

Having just brushed against death, every movement tugged painfully at my wounds. Being reborn on this day must mean that fate was granting me a second chance.

"I will agree to the divorce, but I want our child’s birth certificate issued first, and I demand alimony," I stated firmly.

Rowen had rehearsed arguments for anticipated resistance, but my calm acceptance threw him off balance, and he visibly relaxed.

"Alright, a million dollars then. Is that satisfactory?" he offered.

Despite his billion-dollar empire, he was only willing to give a million. Clenching the sheet, I understood pushing for more would be fruitless, and reluctantly nodded. He left to finalize the birth certificate, and after confirming everything was in order, I signed the papers.

With the agreement in hand, Rowen dashed off to be with Maisie without sparing a glance for our child. The neighboring hospital room buzzed with the celebration of new life. Meanwhile, I had neither family nor a partner to lean on.

Two days later, when Thalia was released from the incubator, I wrapped her carefully and prepared to go home. En route, my secretary called:

"Ms. Rice, don’t forget to share the company’s press release."

I hadn’t even collected the divorce certificate yet and was unworthy of the "Mrs. Harris" title. To preserve Maisie’s dignity, Rowen insisted that I announce the divorce was due to irreconcilable differences.

I agreed without a second thought, but with my phone’s battery nearly dead, I decided to post the statement once I was home. Arriving at the villa, I called for the staff to close all windows, yet no one responded. As I carried Thalia to her nursery, I overheard whispered conversations from the kitchen.

"How shameless, bringing home a child born from an affair."

"Mr. Harris is merciful for not pressing charges, and yet she brings the child here expecting a share of his wealth!"

I hesitated, a cold sweat forming under my thick coat. Had irreconcilable differences mutated into rumors of infidelity?

"What nonsense are you spewing?" I demanded, flinging open the kitchen door.

The staff, who once addressed me respectfully as "Ma'am," stared back with contempt-filled eyes. Itzel, their leader, had the audacity to spit at me.

"Who’s lying? The company’s already put out a public statement, and you think we can’t call you out for cheating on Mr. Harris?"

Rushing back to my room, I plugged in my phone to charge and opened social media. The headline was "Rowen Harris Announces Divorce."

"Due to Camille Rice’s infidelity during the marriage, Rowen Harris has officially ended their marriage. Official statement follows."

My head spun, a sharp pain lancing through my skull. Rowen was willing to tarnish my name for Maisie's sake! As I tried to explain the truth online, my phone buzzed, nearly waking Thalia.

It was a police officer on the other end, his voice filled with urgency: "Ms. Rice, the human traffickers have confessed! You were taken from Asheville!"

"We’re collaborating with the Asheville police to screen families who lost children. You need to go there within three days for a DNA test!"

My heart, shattered by Rowen’s betrayal, soared with hope; tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Since being taken at five years old to this city, my life had known no peace. I once believed marrying Rowen would offer me a new start, only to find another nightmare.

But now, there was a chance to find my birth family. My daughter would have relatives who loved her!

Hanging up, I quickly packed a few clothes and turned toward the nursery to gather Thalia’s things. Just as I grasped the doorknob, the main entrance of the villa swung open.

"Camille, who gave you permission to come in here?"

Rowen Harris narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed.

"I just want to grab some clothes for the baby."

"Everything in that room is for Maisie's child. If you need something, you'll have to buy it yourself."

Every item in the nursery had been chosen carefully for my child, yet he intended it all for Maisie Baker's baby, even though that child wasn’t biologically his. Suppressing the disappointment swelling inside me, I chose not to argue.

Itzel Patterson suddenly intervened, grabbing my arm and pulling me away.

"Mr. Harris wants us at the wellness center to look after Miss Baker."

The pain from my still-healing wound shot through me. In desperation, I shouted at him, "I just gave birth too, Rowen. I need to recover!"

Without even turning, he retorted,

"Well, you’ve done physical work your whole life; you're strong enough to handle this."

With that, he climbed into his luxury car, and I was bundled into a van headed toward the wellness center.

When we arrived, Maisie Baker lay comfortably amidst a group of caregivers. As soon as she noticed me, she struggled to sit up.

"Sister-in-law, please have a seat. I know childbirth is exhausting..."

Rowen gently pressed her back down and glanced sideways at me:

"She could probably run a marathon with a broken leg; what's this in comparison?"

"Camille, if you take good care of Maisie, I'll give you an extra hundred thousand dollars. Tempting, right?"

An extra hundred thousand was indeed tempting. I bit my lip. "No, my child is at home without anyone to look after her."

A flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes, but Maisie quickly gripped his hand.

"Rowen, if Sister-in-law doesn't want to look after me, let her go. I don't want to make things hard for you."

Rowen held her hand reassuringly and turned to me with disdain:

"You're lucky I even thought of you for this. You're an orphan without money or connections. Marrying me brought me no benefits, and now you can't even pretend to care. At least making sure Maisie’s comfortable would make you useful."

He seemed oblivious to my pallor as he was used to belittling me. Instead, he directed Itzel to head back. However, Itzel detested me for supposedly climbing too high by marrying into the Harris family, and I knew she wouldn’t put any heart into caring for anyone.

Rowen, uninterested in listening further, insisted I feed Maisie postnatal meals.

Turning toward the tightly shut door, I realized I couldn’t leave. Exhausted and starving, I resigned myself to feeding Maisie.

Just as the spoonful of soup neared her lips, she suddenly recoiled, emitting a sharp cry: "Ah, it’s boiling hot!"

Rowen grabbed the soup bowl, hurling it at me, and the sticky chicken soup splattered across my body.

"What kind of tantrum is this? You scald Maisie, and you won't get a bite to eat today!"

Maisie clung to him, tears streaming down her face:

"Rowen, don’t be angry. Sister-in-law didn't mean to..."

"Stop calling her your sister-in-law. Tomorrow, I’ll take her to get the divorce papers sorted!"

Abandoned on the sideline and dripping with chicken soup, I didn’t have a single person to express concern for me.

The next day, Rowen took me out of the wellness center to finalize our divorce. Once we stepped out of the civil registry, he got into his car alone.

"I need to buy Maisie the latest handbag. You find your own way back."

With a grim face, he added,

"Camille, if you don't reach the wellness center in half an hour, you know the consequences."

The luxury car roared away, and I immediately hailed a cab back to the villa.

As soon as I entered the front door, I heard the sound of a baby crying from a small room adjacent to the courtyard. That was where the security guards stayed!

I rushed in, finding Thalia tossed carelessly on a filthy single bed.

Despite my maternity bag and formula being right there, her face was pale, and her cries were weak.

She probably hadn’t had a drop of milk since yesterday, nor had a diaper change!

There was no time to hold Itzel accountable—my priority was changing Thalia's diaper and feeding her.

Once I had burped her, Thalia gave me a sweet smile. My eyes welled up as tears fell onto her blanket.

Maisie's child had a dozen caregivers, while mine was neglected, deprived even of milk.

"Don't worry, Thalia. Mommy will take you away from here."

Suddenly, someone banged on the door. As I opened it, Rowen's hand struck across my face.

"Camille! You dare bring so many hooligans into our home?"

I held Thalia tightly as Rowen Harris pushed us into the mansion. Maisie Baker, bundled warmly and accompanied by several caregivers, followed closely behind.

Inside, I was shocked to see several rough-looking men sprawled on the floor, their faces flushed from what seemed like a night of heavy drinking. The house was a mess, resembling the aftermath of a wild party. The bedroom and study were also occupied by people sleeping, and incredibly, the master bed had five people on it, some not even wearing clothes.

I was frantic. "It wasn't me! I haven't been near this place!"

Itzel Patterson appeared, her voice thick with a sob, saying, "Mr. Harris, a crowd of hooligans broke in last night. They claimed Miss Rice gave them keys and invited them to have some fun..."

"They even complained about the child being a nuisance and tossed her into the guard room..."

I was trembling, vigorously shaking my head. "I don't know them! I was at the hospital yesterday. How could I have given them keys?"

"Yes... She was with me yesterday, Rowen. Why not wake them up and ask?" Maisie tugged at Rowen’s sleeve. His furious expression softened immediately, and he ordered someone to wake the nearest man.

"Who let you in?!"

The thug blinked groggily and said, "A woman named Camille Rice gave us a key, said the mansion was empty, and invited us over... Hey, bring some more whiskey!"

In his hand was my set of keys, the one with my teddy bear keychain. I instinctively patted my pocket, only to find it empty.

"It's not me. I lost my keys. It's not me!"

"Still denying it? Poor Maisie was concerned about you and insisted on coming home. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known about your disgusting scheme!"

"You were planning an orgy in the mansion with these people!"

Growing more impatient, Rowen instructed Itzel to lock me in the guard room. Behind me, Maisie cooed sweetly, "Rowen, she's just being silly. Why get so upset?"

"She won’t learn unless she's taught a lesson. This house is filthy now; let's stay somewhere else."

The guard room door was locked, and through the glass, I watched them leave with a triumphant flourish. Maisie, surrounded by everyone, cast a smug smile my way.

As night fell, I finally calmed Thalia down and got her to sleep, but then the lights suddenly went out. I figured it was a power issue and reached for my phone to book a train ticket. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a lock clicking, and in the moonlight, Maisie appeared. Without Rowen around, her eyes were full of malice.

"Wanting a million after the divorce, Camille? I really underestimated your shamelessness!"

I immediately hugged Thalia and backed away, but the cramped room offered no escape.

"Maisie, I have no quarrel with you. Why do you keep tormenting me?"

"No quarrel? If it weren't for you, I would have married Rowen!"

I furrowed my brow. As an orphan, I knew I had no right to marry someone like him. Last year, I happened to save his grandfather, Maxwell Hayes, during a heart attack. Grateful, he pressured Rowen to marry me. Rowen agreed, and we got our marriage license.

There was no wedding, just a single line in the company announcement. After the marriage, Rowen treated me as an outlet for his frustration, tormenting me until I could barely get out of bed. Within a month, I was pregnant.

I thought having a family would bring stability, but Maxwell passed away a week before I gave birth, leaving me with no support. So Maisie believed I'd taken her place as Mrs. Harris?

"But now you have what you wanted. Why can't you just let me be?"

"No! If you and Rowen hadn't married, I wouldn't have gone drinking at the pub, and I wouldn't be stuck with this unwanted child!"

"It's all your fault! Camille, I want you gone!"

She grabbed a baton from the table and lunged at me. I quickly dodged. The next moment, she let out a piercing scream and deliberately crashed into the bedpost, collapsing to the floor.

Rowen burst in:

"Camille! Are you out of your mind?"