My daughter is gravely ill, and her medical bills cost a bomb. My husband gives up on treating her. Then, he turns and runs into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Chelsea Davies.

Amid my despair, my first love, Elliot Cox, transfers five million dollars to my account. He cares for my daughter with me. However, my daughter ultimately fails to escape death.

Six years later, Elliot and I have our own child. When I head to the hospital to visit one of my friends, I accidentally hear Elliot's conversation with a doctor.

"You and Ms. Baxter have your own child now, Mr. Cox. What if she finds out the truth of what happened back then?"

"Chelsea was gravely ill at the time; I had no choice but to pull some tricks to have the child's heart transplanted to her. Besides, Holly's pregnant again now, isn't she? It's high time she lets go and moves on."

Only then do I discover that my daughter was misdiagnosed on purpose. Elliot took her heart and had it transplanted in Chelsea's body.

Upon hearing this, tears slid down my face silently.

So, the baby in my belly right now wasn't the product of love between me and Elliot Cox. It was just a token of atonement.

The six years of feelings were just a charade for Elliot. It was all for the sake of his one true love, Chelsea Davies.

I gently touched my slightly rounded belly, smiling bitterly.

Six years ago, I couldn't save my daughter. Now, I didn't want to continue this doomed entanglement either.

In the hospital office, the doctor sighed softly, his tone carrying a hint of regret. "Alright, Mr. Cox. But is this really worth it? Chelsea is already married. You should move on with your life. After all, Ms. Baxter loves you so much. She's a good woman."

Elliot just paused for a moment before replying with conviction, "Why wouldn't it be worth it? I don't care about titles or labels. As long as I can stay by Chelsea's side, that's good enough for me. She can love whoever she wants. I just want her to be healthy and happy.

"As for Holly… Yes, she's wonderful. She's a great wife, and she'll be a great mother. But unfortunately, I don't love her. Love isn't something you can force."

Hearing Elliot say this, the doctor shook his head and didn't press further. "Ms. Baxter's pregnancy is unstable. She's had a hard life. She already lost one child. This time, please treat her and the baby well."

There was a long silence before Elliot finally responded with a soft hum.

I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound.

It wasn't until Elliot and the doctor left that I finally allowed myself to break down and cry.

So, my newborn daughter hadn't died of illness after all. Elliot had bribed the doctor to misdiagnose her just so Chelsea could have a fresh, healthy heart.

Back then, when my daughter had been diagnosed with a severe illness and admitted to the ICU, my husband at the time, Joshua Grant, hadn't wanted to deal with the burden.

He had walked away from the hospital and straight into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Chelsea.

Elliot had been the only light in my life at the time.

But looking back now, he had only offered his so-called help to ensure that Chelsea's heart was taken care of.

After I had divorced Joshua, Elliot had married me, probably just out of guilt.

When I stepped out of the hospital, it was pouring.

I didn't call a cab. I staggered forward in the downpour, completely drenched. I allowed the rain to mix with my tears. I had long since lost count of how many times I had cried.

By the time I got home, the housekeeper saw the sorry state I was in and rushed over.

"Mrs. Cox! Why didn't you call the driver? You're still pregnant. Getting soaked like this isn't good for you!"

Hearing the commotion, Elliot walked out of his study. Seeing my red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, a flicker of distress flashed across his face. He put down his mug of coffee and scooped me up in his arms.

His voice carried a hint of reproach as he said, "You're about to be a mother. How can you still be this reckless? What if you catch a cold? Worse yet, what if something happens to the baby? I don't even know what to say to you."

I glanced at him and murmured under my breath, "Elliot, I've been a mother before. I don't need you to teach me. If the baby dies, then so be it. It's not like I haven't lost a child before."

Elliot's steps faltered.

He frowned tightly but, in the end, said nothing.

The bathtub had already been filled with hot water. Elliot moved to help me undress, but I pushed him away.

He looked at me suspiciously as if wondering why I was acting so differently. After a long standoff, he finally left the bathroom.

I scrubbed myself over and over again with body wash, trying to wash away every last trace of Elliot's presence from my skin.

By the time I returned to the bedroom, Elliot was already fast asleep. Looking at the side profile of the man I had spent years with, I felt nothing but unfamiliarity.

In his sleep, Elliot reached for my hand. "Don't go. Stay with me forever. Chelsea."

His face was filled with endless affection and dependence—an expression he had never once shown me.

The next second, Elliot's phone lit up. It was a message from a contact saved as "Princess Chelsea".

I tried unlocking his phone a few times, but none of the passwords worked. I tried my birthday, Elliot's birthday, and even Chelsea's birthday, but none of them did the trick.

I had one attempt left.

I entered the date of my daughter's death.

Unexpectedly, it worked.

How could I have forgotten? The day my daughter had died was also the day Chelsea had been given a second chance at life with my daughter's heart.

So, that was how Elliot had been quietly loving Chelsea all along.

The chat showed that Chelsea had sent a few photos. In them, her smile was brighter than the spring sun. She clung to Elliot's side like a child, and though Elliot's posture was a little stiff, he still made a heart sign with her.

"Elliot, it's always more fun going to the amusement park with you. Joshua is way too boring. You promised to take me for a photoshoot tomorrow. Don't bail on me. Love you!"

Elliot and Chelsea looked just like a couple in their honeymoon phase. Meanwhile, I felt like a fool, peeking into someone else's happiness.

Something occurred to me then—tomorrow was the day Elliot had promised to go with me to my prenatal checkup.

So, which one mattered more? Our child or the woman he loved?

I stayed awake the entire night.

I was betting on him. If Elliot chose to go to the appointment with me tomorrow, I would give him one last chance for the sake of the new life growing in my belly.

The next morning, Elliot was up early, getting ready to leave. His face was lit with excitement.

Just as he was about to step out the door, I grabbed the corner of his shirt. "Elliot, where are you going? Didn't you promise to come with me for my checkup?"

The smile on Elliot's face faded. He hesitated for a long moment before gently patting my hand.

"Holly, I'm sorry. I have a really important meeting today. I won't be able to go with you to the hospital. You're always so understanding. I know you'll support your husband while he's hard at work, right?

"Besides, you said it yourself yesterday. You've been through childbirth before. You don't need me there. Everything will go smoothly."

I kept my head down and didn't say a word.

Elliot smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Be good, alright? I'll bring you back a gift."

With that, he walked away without looking back.

Watching his retreating figure, I finally gave up for good.

I checked the latest flights to Norbury and called my best friend, Roxanne Bilbury.

The flight was scheduled for the night after tomorrow. Once I got to Norbury, I would say goodbye to everything here forever.

I put on a light layer of makeup to make myself look less worn out. Then, I went to the best law firm in the city for a consultation about the divorce process and to investigate my daughter's wrongful death due to medical misdiagnosis.

The lawyer quickly drafted the divorce papers.

But if I wanted to hold Elliot and Chelsea accountable, I needed more evidence.

That evening, I personally prepared a candlelit dinner and opened two bottles of Elliot's prized red wine.

When Elliot walked in and saw me sitting quietly at the dining table, he froze for a moment, then smiled knowingly.

"Holly, you should let the housekeeper handle this. You're my wife. You're meant to live a life of luxury, not do these things yourself."

He smiled and pulled me into his arms. We were so close that I could catch a whiff of the floral, sweet scent of perfume on him—one that unmistakably belonged to another woman.

I asked Elliot when he had started wearing such an overly seductive and tacky fragrance.

He looked guilty. Lowering his head, he sniffed his collar and quickly explained, "Oh, I had a meeting with the CEO of Griffin Group today. I must have picked it up from her by accident.

"What's wrong, Holly? Are you actually suspecting me? Are you still mad about me missing your checkup? I already explained myself. I thought you'd understand."

A guilty conscience always spoke first.

I had only asked a simple question, yet he had immediately responded with a flood of accusations.

Seeing that I remained silent, Elliot changed the subject. He pulled out a delicate emerald necklace and fastened it around my neck.

"Holly, don't be mad. I got this just for you. It's one of a kind. Do you like it?"

Under the candlelight, the emerald shimmered a deep, mysterious green. It was beautiful. I traced the cool, smooth surface of the necklace with my fingertips.

Throughout the six years of marriage, Elliot would give me jewelry after every fight.

But no amount of gold or diamonds could change the fact that he had betrayed me. It couldn't bring back my daughter, who had been murdered.

Seeing me finally smile, Elliot began to eat the food I had prepared.

He kept complimenting my cooking. Yet, in the end, he only had a few bites. After all, a man who has already indulged somewhere else wouldn't have much of an appetite at home.

During dinner, I kept refilling Elliot's glass, and before long, he was completely drunk and passed out on the bed.

Seizing the moment, I slipped into his study, searching for any evidence related to my daughter's death.

After digging through his files, I finally found one. It was an organ transplant agreement from six years ago. In it, Elliot had signed his name as my spouse, authorizing the transplant.

No wonder he had been so eager to marry me back then. It had never been about love. He had just done it to ensure Chelsea's early recovery.

I took photos of the document and put it back exactly as I found it.

Then, I scheduled the email to be sent to Elliot's inbox the moment my flight took off. It included the photos of the organ transplant agreement and the signed divorce agreement.

Once I left, he would wake up to the truth, and I would be gone.