These memories only started piecing together bit by bit after I stopped taking psychiatric medication during my pregnancy.

Because of the love and warmth Quinton gave me, I was unwilling to dig into the painful past. But now, I've become a complete joke.

While Quinton was at work, I secretly went to consult a doctor, only to find out that my condition was more like the result of multiple deep hypnosis sessions.

When I got home, Quinton was sitting on the couch with a dark expression, surrounded by cigarette ends.

I pretended as if nothing had happened and hung up my bag. "Didn't we agree to no smoking in the house? Secondhand smoke is bad for the baby."

Quinton walked over and grabbed my arm. His veins bulged on the back of his hand as he did so.

He asked coldly, "You went to see a doctor?"

"What's wrong?" I replied, feigning composure.

"What? I'm a doctor, yet you went to someone else? You don't trust me?" he asked, his tone full of resentment.

I was about to answer when he suddenly scooped me up and silently carried me to the couch.

I took the opportunity to explain, "Aren't you busy? I just had a headache, and I can't take medicine, so I went to get a massage from the doctor."

He placed me on the couch and quickly removed my prosthetic leg, lowering his head to gently massage my stump.

I had no idea what he was thinking, so I said nothing.

Finally, he looked up at me and said, "If you really don't feel well, you should take care of yourself first. Should I prescribe you some medicine?"

"What nonsense are you talking about? The baby is already six months old. I can't take medicine! For the child, I'm willing to do anything, and so will you, right?" I shot back.

I cupped his face and tried to look into his eyes. But he pulled me into his arms and turned his head away.

"Of course. Not just for the baby, but for you too."

I listened to his steady heartbeat as he told a blatant lie. I sniffled and forced down the bitterness I felt in my heart.

…

Quinton suddenly took a long absence from work, saying he wanted to take better care of me.

But I knew he was just trying to keep an eye on me.

I leaned against the doorframe and watched him bustling around the nursery. I felt a little dazed.

Quinton held up a stuffed toy and waved it at me. "Honey, do you think the baby will like blue?"

"Probably."

Suddenly, Quinton's phone rang. He then lied to me without batting an eye. "It's a call from a patient."

I nodded. He turned and walked into the study.

Even though he spoke in a low voice, I still heard Winnie say she missed him.

After comforting Winnie, Quinton walked out and lied to me again. "Honey, something urgent came up at home. I need to fly back for a bit."

"Okay," I said as I closed my magazine.

Upon hearing this, he kissed my forehead almost reverently. "My wife is so understanding," he remarked before leaving.

After he left, I waited until the housekeeper fell asleep and sneaked into the study. I searched for a long time before finally finding that box in a hidden cabinet.

It was a locked box that he had once opened in a drunken haze. His eyes were reddened with emotion at the time.

Inside were countless photos of him and Winnie.

One of them, slightly faded at the edges and even laminated, was a childhood picture of them with an orange cat.

Quinton had never taken a photo with me, except for our wedding picture. Previously, when I asked him to take maternity photos with me as a keepsake, he refused and said he didn't like taking pictures.

It turned out he just didn't like taking pictures with me.

My nose stung, but my eyes remained dry—no tears came out.

At the very bottom of the box, there was an envelope. I held my breath and pulled it out.

Inside was a medical report confirming necrospermia. However, the identity details were all concealed.

Regardless, my intuition told me that this was definitely related to the baby in my womb.

After taking photos of both documents, I carefully put the box back.

…

Quinton was gone for half a month.

During that time, I tried every possible way to recover my memories.

Perhaps I wasn't skilled enough, but my memories became more and more chaotic. I even recalled a memory of being in an orphanage.

Just as I was feeling overwhelmed, Quinton returned.

During dinner, he suddenly suggested, "Honey, let me take you back to our country."

I was surprised and said, "Didn't you say that everything back home would remind me of painful memories and that going back wouldn't be good for my recovery?"

"You're much better now, aren't you? I want to change your environment—it might help with your condition. Besides, don't you miss your family and friends back home?"

As he spoke, he placed a piece of fish on my plate.

I pushed the fish aside. "Do I still have family or friends?"

"I've already bought the tickets. We're leaving tomorrow morning." Quinton had already decided for me.

The next morning, he forced me out the door.

After returning back to the country, he took me to the Scott residence. But those in the Scotts didn't welcome me.

"Wow, Quinton, you actually pushed your pregnant cripple back here. You went out of your way for a disabled person. Seriously!" Quinley Scott, Quinton's sister, clicked her tongue in disdain.

She glanced at my belly and rolled her eyes.

"Quinley, this is your sister-in-law!"

"I'll call her that if you actually treat her like your wife!" Quinley rolled her eyes again. "Or is she the main wife, and that other one is the second wife?"

Quinton slapped her after he heard this.

Quinley furiously retorted, "Why are you hitting me? I'm just speaking the truth!"

As I watched this ridiculous drama unfold before me, I clenched the armrest of my wheelchair tighter and tighter.

"Enough!" Quinton glared at Quinley.

"I'm going to see Grandpa. Take Jenny inside for me," he instructed.

Quinley didn't dare talk back, but she was clearly unwilling as she pushed me forward.

"You cripple, do you really like my brother?" she abruptly asked.

After walking a distance, the wheelchair suddenly stopped.

Wait, weren't the Scotts supposed to only have the two of them—Quinton and his grandfather?

While supporting myself on the armrest, I struggled to turn around and looked at Quinley in confusion.

She let out a deep sigh. "We're all just pitiful puppets being controlled."

She suddenly frowned and knocked a few times on the armrest of the wheelchair, then sneered.

Then, she switched back to her usual indifferent demeanor and said, "Quinton really puts a lot of effort into you. This wheelchair and prosthetic leg must've cost him quite a bit."

"What do you mean?" I couldn't help but ask as I saw the hesitation in her expression.

However, she only smirked before turning to leave.

I stared at the spot where she had knocked before. I discovered a barely noticeable dent in the wheelchair's armrest. After opening it, I found a GPS tracker embedded inside. There was a similar mark at the lower end of my prosthetic leg.

…

The next morning, under his grandfather's orders, Quinton drove me to visit his parents' graves.

But after receiving a message, he suddenly pulled over and abandoned me by the roadside.

The wind in the suburbs was much harsher than in the city, chilling me to my core.

…

Quinton never came home even until late that night.

I took a deep breath and turned on the surveillance device I had secretly placed in Quinton's car. On the screen, a man and a woman were pressed together intimately, and their breaths were ragged and interwoven.

After a long while, their breathing gradually steadied.

Winnie gently rested her head on Quinton's shoulder. "Quint, it's almost time. The Whites have been keeping a close watch lately. Can this really work?"

"Don't worry. I'm here. I'll arrange for Jennifer to have a C-section as soon as possible," he replied.

Quinton's eyes were filled with warmth as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Winnie's ear.

With a self-reproachful tone, Winnie said, "It's all my fault for being in poor health and causing you so much trouble!"

"Don't say that. If it weren't for me back then, you wouldn't be in this situation. Besides, this is mainly Lester's problem."

Then, Quinton kissed Winnie's slightly parted lips once more.

I was overwhelmed with grief and rage.

Could they really decide my fate and my child's fate so easily?

Well, I don't agree!

…

The next day, when I opened my eyes, I saw Quinton's handsome profile looking apologetic.

"Honey, something came up at the company yesterday."

I nodded blankly.

He gently helped me up. "I brought you your favorite shrimp ravioli."

As he spoke, he thoughtfully helped me put on my prosthetic leg.

Sometime later, his grandfather suddenly announced he was unwell and asked Quinton to take over the company.

Quinton took on the responsibility and worked tirelessly day and night.

However, I was happy to be free.

While taking advantage of the chance to go to a prenatal checkup alone, I ordered a new prosthetic leg.

Unexpectedly, I ran into someone I wanted to avoid at all costs in the parking lot.

"Jenny, you're back? I missed you so much! You seem even more gentle now."

As he spoke, Lester's hand rested on my belly, teasingly saying, "They say mothers have a special charm. Seems true."

"Get lost!" I pushed his hand away.

He smiled playfully, leaning slightly to block the car door. "You're already a mother, and you're still so reserved?" he teased.

A sudden angry shout came from afar. "Lester! What are you doing?"

"How boring!" After he saw who it was, Lester let go of me.

Winnie, heavily pregnant, rushed over. Her face was twisted in anger as she shouted, "Jennifer, do you just love taking things from me?"

She then threw everything in her hands at me.

When she saw me dodge, she even started pulling at me.

"Enough! She's carrying a child!" Lester glanced meaningfully at my belly.

Winnie calmed down, and then she smiled at me coldly. "My dear sister, you must take good care of the baby in your belly.

"I heard Quinton say this baby was well-behaved? Then you better enjoy it while you can!"

I could no longer hold back my anger and pushed her away. "Don't even think about it! I will never give him to you."

Just as I was about to slap her, Quinton suddenly rushed over and shielded Winnie behind him.

His gaze was full of anger as he snarled. "Jennifer, are you insane?"

"You know very well who's the insane one here!" I shouted back.

I didn't want to argue with them anymore, so I lowered my gaze and opened the car door.

Winnie, teary-eyed, spoke up. "Jenny, you're my only family… I'll give you anything you want. Just don't be mad at me, okay?"

Quinton reached out to wipe Winnie's tears, but Lester slapped his hand away. "Mr. Scott, can you not tell who your actual wife is?"

Quinton's expression turned awkward at that.

After dropping me off at home with a darkened expression, he left in a hurry. For days, he didn't come back.

He sent me a text saying he was busy with work and told me to take care of myself and the baby. But what he didn't know was that Winnie was sending me photos of their dates in real-time every day.

In those photos, Quinton looked truly relaxed and happy in a way I had never seen before.

If it were a few months ago, I might have felt heartbroken by this betrayal. Now, I just wanted to escape as soon as possible.

After getting my new prosthetic leg, I placed the divorce papers I had prepared in advance on the table.

This year-long scam should also finally come to an end.

…

There were ten minutes left before boarding. I held my boarding pass and gently stroked my belly.

"Sweetie, you and I are finally safe."

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar figure. I felt my heart leap into my throat, and I hurried toward the crowded area.

Just as I was about to reach the boarding gate, a hand yanked my arm.

Then, a sharp pain spread through my forearm.