My stepdaughter, Hannah, handed me a bowl of a harmful concoction during her coming-of-age celebration. Everyone around us knew it was her "prank," yet no one stepped in—even my husband, Zachary, just watched, indifferent and cold.

With a forced smile, I accepted the bowl and drank it. Almost immediately, a stabbing pain shot through my lower abdomen. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard Hannah's spiteful tone.

“Do you really think having a child will make you my mother’s replacement?” she sneered. “The only reason Dad married you is that I needed a free babysitter.”

“If you even think about taking my mother’s place, you can get lost!” she snapped.

Clutching my stomach, I took a deep breath. “No need to worry. You’re an adult now, and I’ve done my part. Tomorrow... I’ll leave.”

Hannah hesitated briefly before laughing mockingly. “Oh, stop pretending. You went through all that to marry my dad, and I should believe you’ll just walk away?”

“With my mother’s face, you couldn’t even wait a hundred days after she passed before slithering in; shameless!” she accused, her voice dripping with contempt. Feeling too weary to argue, I paled and turned away. The drink burned down my throat, bringing with it waves of agony. Warm blood started to seep from me.

With trembling hands, I reached for my phone, trying to dial emergency services. But Hannah knocked it away. "You think you can head to the hospital? Dream on!"

"I won't let someone like you contaminate our family's bloodline! You'll never have a child in this lifetime," she declared.

As pain surged through me, a servant who had always been kind couldn’t hold back. "Miss, she’s bleeding non-stop. If she doesn’t get to the hospital, it could be fatal."

"Shut up!" Hannah snapped, hitting the servant across the face. "Who gave you the right to call her 'Madam'? The only woman of this house is my mother!"

Spoiled and indulged, Hannah had grown arrogant over time. Looking at the child I’d raised, I felt a deep emptiness in my heart.

Noticing my trembling gaze, Hannah yelled, “Don’t look at me like that!”

"If you do, I'll make sure you regret it!" Her face twisted with youthful fury, she resembled a cornered animal ready to lash out.

I lowered my eyes, hiding my disappointment and tears, and walked away silently. The bleeding didn’t stop, and I realized I urgently needed hospital care. But the heavy blood loss left me weak; after a few steps, I collapsed.

Hannah smirked as she watched me helpless, then turned to head upstairs. I watched her retreating form, recalling the times I held her as a baby. Back then, she was a fragile infant, her mother having died in childbirth, her cries barely audible. I felt an overwhelming urge to protect her the moment I saw her.

Marilyn, Zachary's mother, noticed my resemblance to Reya and offered me an enticing deal to marry Zachary. Driven by the desire to care for this vulnerable girl, I had accepted, pouring all my love into raising her. Yet after years, she showed no affection, only deep-seated animosity.

I laughed bitterly, accepting help from a servant, and managed to get to the hospital. In the sterile, antiseptic surroundings, I learned I had lost the baby and would likely never conceive again. Tears fell, but soon relief came over me. At least another soul wouldn’t suffer.

On the way back from the hospital, I encountered Zachary. Seeing him reminded me of the cold detachment in his eyes during the celebration. He had observed Hannah’s cruelty without intervening, and after I fell, he had retreated to his study, shutting himself away.

Now, he lounged, reading the newspaper, barely acknowledging my presence. “Today’s incident wasn’t Hannah’s fault,” he said. “You married me for money at my mother’s offer to take care of her.”

“Her spoiled, arrogant demeanor is on you,” he casually remarked, dismissing Hannah’s nearly fatal actions and shifting blame onto me.

I lowered my gaze, hiding any emotion. After a long silence without response, he unusually glanced my way. “Is your health improving?” he asked.

“Our child is gone,” I replied.

Zachary glanced at me, then stood, loosening his tie as he approached. “It’s better this way. It keeps things less complicated,” he said, the meaning behind his words unmistakable.

Though his mother had initially proposed the marriage, it was Zachary who agreed. It was all due to my striking resemblance to Reya, a face he cherished despite feeling nothing for me. He spent every night with me, refusing any precautions, leading to my pregnancy. Being an orphan, I couldn’t bring myself to terminate it, so I carried the child until today.

But today, on the day of my miscarriage, he still intended to share a bed with me?

Seeing Hannah dismiss others with such indifference, it became clear she’s just like him!

I frowned, suppressing the disgust rising within me, and pushed the man invading my personal space away. His face registered shock, then anger, as I calmly spoke.

“My promise to your mother, to stay until Hannah came of age, is fulfilled. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

After more than a decade with them, Zachary never once mentioned marriage. It seems they both saw me as nothing more than a live-in nanny. Perhaps it’s just as well; leaving will be less complicated without any emotional ties.

His face darkened immediately.

“Ainara, are you still upset with Hannah?”

I lowered my gaze, unwilling to speak. He assumed he’d hit the mark and snorted coldly.

“When did you become so petty? Hannah’s still just a kid. What could you possibly hold against her?”

“Besides, you grew up an orphan. Where do you think you’ll go after leaving the Smith family?”

He thought he had me cornered, his words dripping with condescension. I took off the bracelet around my wrist and placed it on the table.

“Once I leave the Smiths, I’m going back to the shelter.”

The day I married Zachary, I knew he had no real affection for me. He and Reya were childhood sweethearts from prestigious families, perfectly matched in every way. When he welcomed me into the house, it was only because I reminded him of her and to care for Hannah.

So, I always kept an escape plan in mind. As soon as I got the agreed-upon payment, I’d leave and return to the shelter, where I truly belong.

What I don’t understand is why, even after fulfilling my responsibilities and our agreement, Zachary refuses to let me go.

“Mr. Smith, I’ve fulfilled my promise to your mother. Hannah has grown up.”

“I’ve been with the Smiths long enough. Rumors are spreading. Staying here without any acknowledgment would be disrespectful to your late wife.”

Zachary stared at me for a while, then suddenly his eyes softened with a hint of amusement.

“So that’s what’s bothering you. You don’t need to worry. Reya was always generous and wouldn’t mind.”

“Ultimately, you just want to officially marry me. That's merely a formality.”

“If you continue to be obedient and treat Hannah well, I might even...”

“No.”

I shook my head. “You misunderstand. I don’t wish to marry you, nor do I want to be legally tied.”

As soon as I finished, his eyes stormed with dark emotions. In the past, I’d have been terrified, fumbling for a way to calm his anger.

But I’m tired of living a life filled with humiliation.

“I don’t want to stay at the Smith residence any longer.”

“I want to return to the shelter, to care for the children with Ms. Stephens.”

“Hannah is an adult now and clearly has no use for me, given her disdain.”

“As long as Mr. Smith provides the agreed compensation, I will leave...”

With a loud crash, Zachary swept everything from the table onto the floor.

“Silence!”

“It seems we’ve treated you too well, making you think you can just come and go as you please!”

“I’ll tell you this: without my permission, you won’t leave the Smith residence!”

With that, he turned and left, ordering a few servants to lock me in the room. The heavy door shut with a resounding thud, leaving me with nothing but water that night.

The servant tasked with watching over me apologized, explaining that Zachary ordered me to be starved for a few days as punishment. I was stunned by his shamelessness, not expecting him to not only break our agreement but also resort to such vile means to torment me.

My body was still weak from a recent miscarriage, and I lay on the bed, contemplating ways to escape.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room, I heard a commotion outside the door.

“What? She’s really trying to leave? And Father has locked her up?”