After that night, Luke seemed like a changed man. He came home on time every day, cooked all kinds of pregnancy-friendly meals for me, took me on walks, and read me stories.

He acted like the perfect husband—attentive, gentle, and doting. It was as if that confrontation, the fish stew, and Ruby had all been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

My friends all said, "He's a guy—they all mess up. Since he's trying to make it right, you should just give him a chance."

I didn't argue. But I knew that some things, once broken, could never be fixed.

One day, I was coming back from a prenatal checkup when a white Beetle suddenly swerved out of control and hurtled straight toward me.

I was thrown into the air and slammed hard onto the ground. A searing pain tore through my lower abdomen before spreading through my entire body.

Before I lost consciousness, I saw bright red blood seeping through my skirt, staining the concrete beneath me.

When I woke up again, I found myself in the hospital.

Luke sat by the bed, looking haggard and grief-stricken. Not only were his eyes bloodshot, but his jaw was covered in dark stubble as well.

"Cynthia, you're awake," he said hoarsely as he took my hand.

Instead of responding, I just reached down and touched my now-flat stomach.

"The baby…"

Luke's eyes reddened instantly. "The doctor said we lost it."

In that moment, tears slipped silently down my cheeks.

The little life I'd been looking forward to meeting for the last three months was gone, just as I'd started to feel my baby move.

"Cynthia, don't be like this. We're still young. We can have another baby." Luke comforted me awkwardly, trying to pull me into his arms.

I turned away, dodging his embrace.

"What about the driver?" I asked.

Luke's body tensed.

"It was… Ruby. She's in the room next door. She was injured too," Luke replied quietly. "She said she mistook the accelerator for the brake."

I looked at him. "So, what do you plan to do?"

He fell silent. It was a long time before he raised his head, his eyes pleading.

"Cynthia, Ruby didn't mean to hit you. She was just promoted to deputy director and has her whole future ahead of her. If this goes on her record, she'll be ruined. Could we settle this privately?"

I looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

My baby was gone, and I'd nearly died. And yet, he was worried about whether the person behind this would ruin her future.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

"Luke, what is your heart made of? Stone?"

His face turned pale, and his lips were trembling so badly that he couldn't speak.

"Get out."

I closed my eyes. Even looking at him a moment longer made me sick.

Not only did he not leave, but he also did something that disgusted me even more. He put me under house arrest, all in the name of "helping me rest and recover".

He also took away my phone and wouldn't let anyone visit me. Every day, he personally brought me meals and watched me take the supplements he brought.

But I knew they were sleeping pills. I pretended to take them, hiding the pills under my tongue, and waited until he left to spit them out.

Ruby came on the third day. She told the nurse to leave, then locked the door behind her.

"Luke said you're not well, so I came to see you." She walked over to my bed, a smug smile on her face.

I kept my eyes closed and said nothing.

She leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Cynthia, you must hate me very much, right?"

"But so what? You lost a baby, while I haven't lost anything. Luke still protects me and loves me.

"Did you know that when the accident happened, the first person Luke ran to was me? He held me and said, 'Ruby, don't be scared.' Yet he didn't even once look at you."

My hands, hidden under the blanket, clenched into tight fists.

"You must really want to kill me right now. But too bad—you just took your medicine."

As she spoke, she pulled out a long, thin needle from her pocket.

"Do you think it'll hurt if I stick this into your hand?"

She grabbed my wrist with a smile and drove the needle deep into the back of my hand.

A sharp pain shot through me, and my eyes flew open. I stared at her coldly, as if she were already dead.

I startled her so badly that she froze, completely dazed.

In that split second, I summoned every ounce of strength left in me and slapped her hard across the face.

Ruby was shell-shocked. She stumbled back several steps, clutching her cheek and staring at me in disbelief.

"You're actually awake? And how dare you hit me?"

Just then, the hospital room door burst open, and Luke rushed in. The moment he saw what was happening, his expression changed. At the same time, he pulled Ruby into his arms protectively.

"Cynthia, what are you doing?"

Ruby burst into tears, looking utterly heartbroken.

"Luke, I'm so scared. Cynthia hit me," she said through sobs.

"It's okay. I'm here now," Luke murmured soothingly to her, but his gaze toward me turned colder by the second.

I looked at the back of my hand, where the needle had pierced through, and suddenly felt an eerie calm wash over me.

"Luke, take a good look—I'm your wife, and I just lost our baby. So, I'm the one who needs protecting the most," I stated the facts calmly.

He seemed to be caught off guard by my words, for his expression flickered with guilt and unease.

But Ruby, who was still nestled in his arms, only wept harder.

"Luke, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come to see Cynthia. I was just worried about her."

Her act of innocence made whatever guilt Luke had just felt vanish in an instant.

He turned to look at me with a frown. "Cynthia, Ruby just came to see you out of kindness. Why do you have to be so aggressive?"

I trembled with rage at the self-righteous look on his face.

But I knew there was no reasoning with this man anymore.

I pointed at Ruby and said coldly, "Get her out."

Ruby bit her lip pitifully, her eyes glistening as she looked at Luke.

"Luke…"

He patted her back gently and said, "Why don't you head out first?"

Ruby glared at me resentfully, looking back with every step as she walked away. Soon, only Luke and I were left in the room.

He turned to face me, exhaustion and helplessness written all over him.

"Cynthia, can you please stop being so difficult?"

It was that same line again. In his eyes, all my pain and despair were just me being difficult.

"Luke, I'll say it one more time—I want a divorce."

"It's never going to happen." His refusal was absolute. "I'm not divorcing you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you," he replied.

I laughed.

"You love me? Is loving me cheating on me during my pregnancy? Or defending that murderer after I lost my baby? Or locking me up here and controlling me with sleeping pills?"

With every word I spoke, Luke's face turned a shade paler.

Not wanting to drag this out any longer, I lay back down. I needed to recover my strength so that I could leave this mess behind.

Seeing that I'd fallen silent, Luke seemed to relax a little. He came over and straightened the blanket around me.

"Cynthia, just rest well. Once you're better, we'll go home and forget all this, okay?"

I closed my eyes and didn't answer.

In the days that followed, I stopped resisting and asking for a divorce. Luke thought I'd finally given in, so he let his guard down.

The day I was discharged from the hospital, I froze the moment I got home.

The watercolor painting that had always hung on the wall by the entrance—My father, Owen Roth, had drawn it for me before he died—was gone.

"Where's the painting?" I asked in a trembling voice.

Luke's eyes flickered away.

"Oh, that… A few days ago, an important client came by. He really liked it, so I lent it to him for a while."

"Which client?"

"Why do you need to know? He'll return it in a few days," he retorted impatiently.

Just then, his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID, his expression shifting, and stepped out onto the balcony to take the call.

I followed him. Standing behind the door, I clearly heard him say in a lowered voice, "Ruby, didn't I tell you not to contact me for a few days?"

"What? The painting got stained? How?"

"Alright, alright, don't cry. It's just a picture. If it's ruined, it's ruined. I'll figure something out. Don't overthink it. Just focus on getting better."

My mind went blank, a deafening buzz drowning out everything.

After hanging up, Luke turned and immediately met my cold, despair-filled eyes. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"C-Cynthia, you heard all that?"

Instead of answering, I simply turned and stormed into the kitchen.

When I came back out, there was a knife in my hand. The moment Luke saw it, his face went pale.

"Cynthia, calm down! What are you doing?"

He stumbled backward in fright, widening the distance between us.

I said nothing. Instead, I just took one step after another, drawing closer to him with the knife in my hand.

One thought consumed me. "Kill him, then Ruby."

Just as I was within striking distance, the doorbell rang. Its shrill sound pulled me back from the edge of madness.

Seizing the opportunity, Luke dashed over to open the door.

Standing at the entrance was Ruby. She was carrying a framed piece, wearing that fake apologetic look on her face.

"Luke, I'm so sorry. I brought the painting back. I didn't mean to stain it."

Her eyes shifted, and then she saw the knife in my hand and Luke's pale face.

Her expression instantly twisted in terror.

"Cynthia, you—"

Before she could finish, I'd already lunged forward.

Luke seized the moment while my focus was on Ruby and snatched the knife from my hand.

Seeing the madness in my eyes, Ruby stumbled backward and fell to the floor. The frame slipped from her grasp and shattered on the ground.

I looked down. A large, glaring coffee stain had seeped into the paper like an ugly scar. That serene, graceful landscape was ruined beyond recognition.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed the porcelain vase from the entryway cabinet and hurled it at Ruby's head.

Ruby shrieked, blood instantly streaming down her forehead.