I'm the renowned owner of a wish-pawning shop in the underworld, where you can trade anything for the fulfillment of your deepest desires.

As we were approaching closing time, my husband, Ian Brooks, walked in—a sight that caught me off guard.

Hidden behind the curtain, I switched on a voice changer. "What would you like to pawn?"

He placed a photograph on the table and pointed to the woman in it. "I want to restore her sight."

Next, he tossed my prenatal check-up report onto the counter. "Pawn the three-month-old fetus in my wife's womb."

Staring at the photograph, I realized the woman was his childhood friend, his widowed sister-in-law.

I was stunned; my mind went blank. The child I carried was the one Ian and I had longed for over three years. Yet he was willing to trade away our child for someone else. Pain stabbed my heart, each pang sharper than the last.

When I didn't reply immediately, Ian's irritation surfaced. "Is that not enough?"

He frowned, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Then add my wife's memory—will that suffice?"

For a moment, I was immobilized, my heart feeling as though it was being pounded relentlessly. Fighting back the wave of anguish, I asked, "Are you truly willing to sacrifice your child and your wife's memories for this woman?"

"Yes, I have no other choice. Anyway... she won't blame me. I'll make amends with everything I have in the future."

Ian's words cut deep. When I still didn't respond, Ian grew more impatient. "I know the rules here. Don't worry; she's willing to give everything for me."

I clutched the prenatal report tightly, feeling the pressure turn my fingertips pale. No wonder he'd been indifferent to our child recently, steering clear of the topic entirely. He even asked me if I would do anything for him in the future, and I answered earnestly, "Of course."

Little did I know, that was my naïve hope.

Ian's impatience mounted. "Why the delay? Are the terms insufficient, or is the pawn shop's reputation mere talk?"

I bowed my head, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to spill from my eyes, and said hoarsely, "Fine, I'll do it."

"But let me ask you one last time. Once this is pawned, it's irreversible. Are you sure?"

Ian nodded without hesitation. "As long as she can see again, I'll do anything!"

A profound sorrow gripped me, making each breath a struggle. "Very well. In five days, the transaction will be complete. Your wife will lose the child, and her memories of you will slowly fade..."

A flicker of complex emotions crossed Ian's face, quickly replaced by determination. "I only need to know when Whitley's eyes will heal."

Bitterness welled up within me; I took a deep breath, striving to keep my voice steady. "In five days, her sight will gradually return until the transaction is finalized."

"Remember, if you change your mind within those five days, you can come back to me..."

Even to the end, I clung to hope.

"No need." Ian's refusal was blunt and resolute, showing no hesitation.

My heart turned to ash, and I fell silent.

By the time I got home, it was late, and the house felt empty. I curled up on the bed and slowly drifted into a troubled sleep.

I awoke to the sound of Ian returning home. Dawn's first light was creeping through the windows. He quietly opened the bedroom door, moving softly to avoid disturbing me. Seeing I was awake, he hurried over, gently holding my hand.

"You look so pale. Are you not feeling well?"

I looked up at him, disoriented by his presence after being apart for most of the day. His gaze was tender, genuinely concerned, making me doubt if the person I'd encountered last night was really him. But my eyes landed on the red mark on his neck, jolting me back to reality.

I turned away, unwilling to meet his gaze or speak, and slowly pulled my hand from his. Ian's hand lingered briefly before dropping to his side. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, his voice tinged with remorse. "I'm sorry for coming back late and not being there for you."

Closing my eyes, I refused to hear his empty apologies, hiding the tears ready to spill. Ian sighed again, softly touching my forehead.

"Is the baby giving you trouble again? Just rest at home for the next few days. Don’t worry about going out... Once things settle down, I'll spend more time with you."

His words were kind, but my heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. His concern seemed rehearsed, meant for Whitley's ears.

Suppressing the grief inside, I replied coolly, "No need."

Sensing my resistance, Ian hesitated, a hurt expression crossing his face. "Are you still upset about missing the appointment? I swear it won't happen again."

He held up his fingers as if making an oath, reminiscent of our early days together. Watching this man I had loved deeply, I forced a faint smile.

"Ian, do you really love me?"

He blinked, about to answer when his phone rang. Even without the speaker, I faintly heard Whitley's tearful voice.

I couldn’t make out her words, but Ian's face was filled with worry. "Wait for me, I'll be there soon."

After hanging up, he began to dress, casting a guilty glance at me. "Whitley needs me; something's come up."

My heart sank with familiar pain. "Today is the anniversary of my parents' passing. You promised to be there."

He frowned, annoyed by my questioning. "Whitley can't see, and my brother asked me to look after her. How can I ignore that?"

"When did you become so cold?"

Whether it was my heart or the baby, sharp pain struck, forcing me to turn away so he wouldn’t see the tears.

Realizing his words might have been too harsh, he paused, softening slightly. "I’ll make it up to you once Whitley's situation is handled."

Then he rushed out, leaving the room quiet except for my heartbeat.

When I returned home from visiting my parents' graves, it was already dusk, and Ian still hadn't come back. He hadn't called or sent a message all day because of his visit to the antique shop.

Occasional sharp pains shot through my belly, and I no longer felt the baby's heartbeat. My memories were starting to blur. Exhausted from the day, I drifted into a deep, hazy sleep filled with a long, vivid dream.

In the dream, I saw a boy who was kind, always understanding and supportive. We had once promised by the sea to stay together forever, never to part. Yet, his face was unclear, always shrouded in mist. I also dreamed of a little girl with pigtails wearing a floral dress. I reached out to touch her, but no matter how hard I tried, she remained out of reach.

Eventually, Ian shook me awake. As I opened my eyes, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his eyes full of concern. "Did you have a bad dream? Don't worry, I'm here..."

Leaning against Ian's chest, I took deep breaths, realizing I was drenched in cold sweat. The sunlight pierced my eyes painfully as I pulled away from his arms.

"I dreamed something terrible happened to the baby, Ian. I heard the wish antique store can make miracles happen. Please, take me there. I want this baby to be born safely."

Ian's face changed instantly, and he instinctively blurted out, "No." Realizing his abruptness, he quickly added, "That's just a rumor; we don't know if it's true. Besides, pawning requires an equivalent exchange. You only get one chance in a lifetime. It's not that simple."

"If it's possible, I'd want to save that chance for when you face greater danger in the future."

"Stop worrying so much. I promise to make sure our child is born safely."

Ian's words were full of emotion, but my heart felt like it was being squeezed, the pain unbearable. He was lying. He had already pawned my unborn child for Whitley; how could he ensure the baby's safe birth now?

Watching Ian, I found it almost laughable, recalling the day I found out I was pregnant. Back then, he was overjoyed, eyes alight with anticipation, holding me tightly. "Daniella, I promise to protect you and the baby with my life."

Words that once echoed lovingly now seemed to mock my foolishness. Pain seized my heart, leaving me breathless, my mind blank. Even when he suggested inviting Whitley to stay, I didn't object.

Seeing my despondent state, Whitley couldn't hide her sneer. She waited until Ian was away before lowering her voice, "I heard Ian tried everything to fix my eyes, even went to the antique store."

"And the next day, my eyes started to improve. Guess what he pawned?"

I stared coldly at her, silent. Seeing me unmoved, Whitley's smug expression wavered. "You know, Ian has liked me since we were kids. If it weren't for his brother, we would have been together long ago."

She leaned in suddenly, grabbing my hand tightly. "If you don't believe me, I'll make sure you see the truth today."

Pain shot through my wrist, and I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, only to see her suddenly stagger backward, losing her balance and falling heavily. The crash echoed as Ian rushed downstairs, his face full of worry as he helped Whitley up.

"Whitley, are you hurt?" Whitley clung to his sleeve, her voice tinged with tears. "I just wanted to say hello to Daniella. I didn't think I'd upset her..."

Hearing this, Ian's brows furrowed, his gaze turning to me, filled with reproach. "How could you push her?"

I was stunned, a wave of bitterness washing over me. "I didn't push her; she..."

"Enough!" Ian cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Stop making excuses. Whitley's too kind to fall on her own. It's you who's always so petty and jealous!"

His words extinguished all my grievances, leaving only despair. The tears and words bottled up inside vanished in an instant.

Whitley continued to sob quietly, her shoulders trembling, looking utterly pitiable—except when she glanced at me with a look full of provocation.

Anyway, I was leaving soon. Let it be.

I didn’t argue further and went upstairs, dialing Greyson’s number. "When the time comes, come and get me."