Dorothy’s face flashed with embarrassment before smoothing back into its usual haughty mask.

“You did sacrifice a lot for this family back then. But let’s not forget—you’ve also enjoyed years as a wealthy wife. And all this time, you still haven’t given the family a son.”

She leaned forward. “And that terminally ill mother of yours—where would she be now without Carl?”

Carolyn said nothing. The house was so vast and quiet she could hear the clock ticking.

“No man can stand having pictures like that of his wife floating around. Your worlds are completely different now. You can’t help him anymore. Carl’s a CEO. His ties to the Dylan Group heiress grow stronger every day. Do you really want to drag him down?”

Carolyn’s hands clenched.

The chasm between her and Carl was already too wide to cross.

Her very existence was probably just a stain on his polished résumé.

Silence stretched. She didn’t even notice when Dorothy left.

Opening the bedside drawer, she took out the small-carat diamond ring.

Carl hadn’t worn it once since their wedding. She’d asked him about it, in the beginning.

He’d said it wasn’t appropriate for client meetings—such a modest ring might raise doubts about the company’s stability.

He’d already had someone else back then.

The lock turned.

Carl came home looking tired. His eyes immediately found the angry red mark on her cheek. His handsome brow furrowed, and his thumb brushed gently over the bruise.

His jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned to fetch an ice pack, wrapped it carefully, and pressed it to her face.

“There now, don’t be angry, all right? She’s the daughter of a major client’s CEO. This project is vital for me. You’re making things difficult. I was just humoring her.”

He held her close, apologizing softly.

She closed her eyes in his embrace, breathing in the unfamiliar perfume on his clothes. The truth couldn’t have been clearer.

“Fine,” Carolyn sighed. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

She seemed to forgive him.

For the next few days, he canceled every social engagement.

He moved around the kitchen in an apron that never quite fit, though his cooking swung from too salty to too bland.

The house no longer felt cold and empty. The kitchen smelled of life; the bed held another’s warmth. He stayed by her side almost constantly—a silent form of compensation.

Late in their bedroom, the air grew thick with careful heat. They held each other close, their kisses soft and slow.

“Carolyn,” Carl murmured, his hands tracing the curves of her body. “Let’s have a baby.”

“How?”

She frowned slightly.

In the next moment, his large warm hands gripped her waist, turning her onto the sofa. Their clothes seemed to vanish. His hot breath brushed her neck, sending a shiver through her.

Then Carl’s phone rang.

Karen’s tearful voice came through the speaker. “Carl, it’s my fault. I won’t see my ex again. I didn’t know he still had feelings for me. Please don’t be mad. Don’t punish me by having a baby with Carolyn—it would break my heart.”

Carolyn’s breath froze. Each word was like a red-hot needle, driving straight into her chest.

She was forced awake.

All the tenderness, the companionship, the afterglow—it was all a performance. Carefully staged by Carl. Meant only to provoke another woman he loved.

Carl stood up with practiced ease. “My assistant. Must be urgent. I need to head to the office.”

The door closed with a heavy thud. The room fell into dead silence, broken only by the roar of a sports car starting outside.

Her own phone rang urgently. Carolyn hesitated, then answered.

“I saw what happened online. Carl doesn’t deserve your kindness. You shouldn’t let your talent rot in a gilded cage. Still not ready to come with me?”

“I’m coming. Just give me a little time. There are still a few things I need to wrap up.”

“Good. I’ll arrange a top agent and a writing residency for you in Paris.”

Carolyn entered the immigration office with her documents in hand.

“Your application will take about a month to process, Ms Carolyn,” the officer told her. “It’ll go into effect automatically after that.”

When the official seal came down on her passport, a strange calm finally settled over her.

Carl hadn’t been home for days.

She was packing her suitcase when the hospital called.

“Mrs Carolyn? Your mother says she misses you,” the nurse said. “She’d like a visit.”

Carolyn hailed a cab right away.

Her mother was having a good day, relatively speaking. She’d even asked the nurse to brush her hair.

Seeing her, the dark clouds in Carolyn’s heart lifted a little. She walked over, took the comb from the nurse, and gently worked through the sparse strands left by the chemo.

Afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, warm and quiet.

“Where’s Carl been lately?” her mother asked softly. “Did you two have a fight?”

“Mom, no, of course not.” Carolyn laughed lightly, though the words tasted like ash. “He’s just swamped at work. Big project.”

She couldn’t let her mother worry.

Her mother sighed. “You worked yourself to the bone for him back then—even drank yourself sick. Thank goodness he made something of himself. Things are finally looking up.”

Lost in reminiscence, Natalie didn’t notice the bitterness that flickered across her daughter’s face.

“Mom, I need to use the restroom,” Carolyn said quickly, already turning away before she gave herself away.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at the dark circles under her eyes. Her mind drifted back to when she first met Carl.

He’d transferred in during their senior year. The teacher seated him right behind her. He fell for her at first sight and pursued her with single-minded intensity.

She once mentioned craving buns from the north side of town. From then on, Carl woke at three every morning, braved the snow on his bike, and rode from the south end—a three-hour round trip—just to hand her steaming buns before homeroom.

When her grades slipped, he stayed up three nights straight, annotating every problem on three hundred of her practice tests with detailed solutions.

Thanks to his relentless tutoring, they got into the same university.

Then the nightmare hit. Carl’s father got hooked on gambling, lost Carl’s entire tuition, and racked up massive debts. Chased by loan sharks, he fell from a building and died.

That night, Carl told her he couldn’t go to university with her. He had to work in a factory to pay off the debts.

Carolyn couldn’t bear to see him throw his future away. A talent like his deserved more.

So she spent that summer working hostess jobs, drinking with clients, earning enough to cover Carl’s living expenses for four years.

A knock on the bathroom door snapped her back.

“Carolyn? Are you alright in there? You’ve been a while.”

She dried her face and stepped out. “I’m fine, Mom. Just got a call. I should head back—need to make dinner for Carl.”

Before she left, her mother said, “Invite Carl over for a meal tomorrow. It’s been too long.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.” She fought back the lump in her throat, hoping her mother wouldn’t see how pale she’d gone.

Back in the cold, empty house, she texted Carl: *Need to talk. Can you come home?*

He replied instantly: *Okay.*

He walked in at three in the morning, the air around him heavy with a woman’s perfume.

Seeing Carolyn on the couch, he said, “My assistant mentioned you visited Mom today. How is she?”

“She’s good. Says she hasn’t seen you in ages and wants to have a meal together. Are you free?”

“Sure. I haven’t visited her in a while either. I know a quiet private kitchen in the suburbs—the food’s light, good for patients. We’ll go there. Tomorrow evening work?”

She hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. She gave a small nod.

Carl looked at his wife’s gentle profile, her hair loosely tied back, a few strands falling lazily against her neck. A wave of tenderness washed over him.

He leaned in with a soft smile, aiming for her lips. Carolyn instinctively turned her head away. To cover the motion, she reached up to help him out of his coat.

“I’ll run you a bath. You should get cleaned up.” Almost pushing him toward the bathroom, she wanted to avoid any further contact.

As water began to run inside, she picked up the coat he’d just shed and tossed it into the laundry hamper.

A folded piece of paper slipped from the pocket. Her heart plummeted when she caught sight of the familiar hospital letterhead.

It was her mother’s hospital.

A cold dread gripped her. Had something happened to her mother’s condition?

Hands trembling, Carolyn unfolded the paper.

The words **‘Early Pregnancy Diagnosis Certificate’** stabbed into her vision.

And in the patient name field, printed clearly: **Karen Karen.**

She folded the paper along its original creases with numb precision and tucked it deep into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Just as her hand withdrew, the bathroom door opened.

Carl approached, steam still clinging to his skin from the shower. He slipped his arms around her from behind, his hands beginning to wander.

The moment his touch grazed her waist, her body went rigid. She pushed him away.

“I’m sorry… I don’t feel well.”

His hand froze in mid-air. *Don’t feel well*—the words doused the flicker of his arousal like a bucket of ice water.

“Right. Get some rest, then.” His tone held a barely concealed edge.

He retreated to his side of the bed and switched off the lamp.

Carolyn closed her eyes, her mind already churning. One month left. Her mother was too frail to travel, so she had to find a new assisted living facility. And then—

Carl’s phone on the nightstand chimed with a flurry of notifications, then shrilled into a ring.

He snatched it up. Even from across the bed, Carolyn could hear the voice on the line.

“Sir, Miss Karen is insisting on seeing you. She won’t take her medication otherwise. Please, you must come at once—”

Before the sentence finished, Carl threw back the covers, grabbed his jacket, and strode for the door.

“Don’t forget dinner with your mother tomorrow,” Carolyn reminded his retreating back.

What Carl did was no longer her concern—but she wouldn’t let her mother down.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Go directly and wait for me.” With that, he was gone.

He didn’t even notice he’d put his jacket on inside-out, or that he was wearing mismatched socks.

So this was her. The reason he left night after night. The one who could throw the always-impeccable Carl into such disarray.

Seeing the first hints of dawn at the window, she gave up on sleep. She rose and went down to the kitchen.

When she walked into the living room with a bowl of noodles, she stopped. Carl was entering from the foyer, a young woman cradled in his arms. His movements were impossibly gentle, as though he held the world’s most fragile treasure.

He looked up and saw her. His step hitched; his tone turned formal, detached. “You’re up. This is Karen, Mr. Dylan’s daughter. Her leukemia has relapsed. Her condition was unstable at the hospital—the doctor recommended home care. Her parents are away, so I’ve brought her to stay for a few days.”

Carolyn’s gaze settled on the girl named Karen. Sickly pale, clinging to Carl’s side, she looked the picture of frail innocence. But when their eyes met, Carolyn saw straight through it—an unmistakable flash of triumph.

So this was the person. The one who summoned Carl night after night. The one who could make him lose all composure.

Countless needles seemed to prick her heart; a bitter ache rose in her throat. “Alright.”

Karen tugged lightly on Carl’s sleeve. “Carl… the doctor said I need plenty of natural light and a calm environment to recover. A sunny, quiet room would be best… Do you think… Carolyn would mind?”

Instantly, every servant in the living room looked their way. A shock passed through them. “That’s the master bedroom!”

Carolyn’s fingers tightened slightly around the bowl. She lifted her eyes and said, clearly, “I do mind.”

The three words darkened Carl’s face instantly. He looked at her, his gaze pressing down with undeniable force. “Karen’s health is the only priority. Not the slightest risk can be taken. You’ll move to the guest room. Temporarily. She takes the master suite.”

He was doing this. In front of everyone. For another woman. Stripping her of the last shred of dignity she held as the lady of the house.

A chill shot from her feet to the crown of her head. The heartache drowned, swallowed by a crushing wave of humiliation. She could see the servants whispering behind their hands.

“Fine.” Her own voice sounded unnervingly calm. “Prepare the room for Miss Karen.” Resistance was pointless. For her mother’s sake, she would swallow this bitterness.

Watching the servants clear her things from the master suite, a fresh wave of sorrow washed through her. After a long moment, a quiet thought surfaced. *It doesn’t matter. Soon I’ll be gone. None of this will be my concern.*

“We have dinner with your mother tonight. Will you… still be able to make it?”

Carl grunted in acknowledgment.

“Then I’ll go see her at the hospital first.”

Carolyn picked up her simple bag and walked out. She hailed a cab, slid in, and gave the driver the address of the hospital.