During my wedding, which is livestreamed all over the world, my fiancé, Marvin Keller, calls me a shameless woman who's gotten pregnant out of wedlock. Then, he calls off our engagement and marries my father's illegitimate daughter, Delilah Lambert.

My mother is so incensed by this that she gets a stroke and ends up bedridden.

Amid my despair, my childhood friend, Tristan Wright, proposes. He tells me he's had a crush on me for many years and is willing to treat my child with Marvin as his own.

I'm moved by Tristan's promise and accept his proposal.

Three years after we get married, I give birth to a stillborn. My mother is still in a coma and doesn't seem like she'll ever wake up.

I'm hospitalized after getting into an accident for the eighth time. That's when I overhear Tristan's conversation with a private doctor. Finally, I discover the truth—he's never loved me.

"You orchestrated eight accidents just to make sure Delilah would inherit her family's fortune? Are you out of your mind?"

"I've done Lethia wrong with this, but I'll use the rest of my life to atone for my sins. She should be satisfied with that."

The familiar voice sent a shiver down my spine.

Lawrence Gray sighed softly and argued, "I just don't understand you. Mrs. Spencer treated you like her son, while Lethia gave you everything she had and helped you secure the power position of your family—simply out of love!

"Yet you killed her mother behind her back. You even took her newborn and gave it to Delilah simply because Delilah was too cowardly to endure the pain of childbirth!

"And now, you've even orchestrated eight car accidents so Delilah could inherit the fortune! Have you ever considered how Lethia would feel if she found out?"

Tristan Wright fell into a brief silence before saying, "She won't find out. If she does, I'll just pay with my life."

In frustration, he violently kicked a nearby plant and continued, "And I had to do what I did to her mother because she found out about the secret. For Lila, I'd do anything for her happiness.

"As for Lethia, though I'm filled with remorse, the most I can do is to spend the rest of my life making it up to her with love."

The sound of a falling object echoed through the rooms, and the conversation abruptly stopped. I bit my lip hard and ran back to the ward.

During our globally broadcast wedding three years ago, my fiancé, Marvin Keller, insulted me and called me shameless for getting pregnant before marriage.

He then called off the wedding and sought to marry my father's illegitimate daughter, Delilah Lambert.

My mother collapsed from the shock and became bedridden. In my despair, Tristan appeared. He professed his love for me and eventually proposed.

I believed him and agreed to marry him, but he ended up killing my mother for Delilah.

My child, whom I carried for nine months, was taken away from me just because Delilah said she wanted a baby.

Our three years of marriage, filled with so-called deep affection and care, were nothing more than compensation for the guilt he felt after hurting me.

A mix of anger and pain intertwined in my trembling heart.

Right then, a warm palm touched my heel, the pain pulling me back to reality.

"When did you fall? You're always hurting yourself when I'm not around. What will you do if I left you?"

My heart clenched as I listened to Tristan's gentle voice. None of the minor injuries I had suffered hurt more than the betrayal of the man who slept next to me every night.

He carefully held my ankle, preparing to disinfect and bandage it.

His phone rang at that moment. I had never touched his phone, yet I felt compelled to do it this time.

I picked up his phone and saw "Baby Lila" calling. A dry, uncomfortable feeling rose in my heart.

My contact name was always just "Lethia Spencer" on his phone, and he had never called me baby in our last three years of marriage.

"I twisted my ankle, Tristan. Marvin is on a business trip, so meet me at our usual spot."

Their usual spot?

I was stunned, and Tristan quickly snatched away his phone. With a peck on my cheek, he coaxed, "Hold on, Tia. I'll go answer the call."

He arrived by the window, and I couldn't eavesdrop on their conversation. All I knew was that he wore a smile he had never shown me before.

The dark circles under his eyes and the way he always rushed home in a disheveled state every morning seemed to tell a story.

Every night he was absent indicated he was with the woman he loved but couldn't have. They retreated to their secret hideaway and shared their feelings.

Meanwhile, I naively believed that his busy schedule—running between the company and the hospital because of my car accident—was what had him so overwhelmed.

As I felt sorry for him, I started using my family connections to help him secure his power position in his family. Now, it seemed he was probably enjoying it all along.

"I need to go, Tia. Stay put at the hospital and wait for my return."

Without waiting for my response, Tristan left in a hurry with his phone.

As I watched his departing figure, scenes from my abduction resurfaced in my mind.

Back then, I was abducted because I secured a project for him. I called him for help, yet he pretended to be worried and took a whole day to rescue me.

Now, with just a twist of her ankle, Delilah managed to summon Tristan, who abandoned me—fresh out of a car accident. It was painfully clear how little he loved me.

My phone rang with a text notification. It was from Delilah.

"Your husband is my greatest support," she texted.

Attached was a photo of Tristan massaging her ankle and kissing the top of her foot.

My nose tingled, and as I turned off the screen, my eyes caught the sight of Delilah's pale wrist. It was adorned with an emerald bracelet.

This bracelet, unique and blessed, was something my mother had gone to great lengths to obtain—she spent three days and nights in deep reflection and devotion, hoping for my safety and happiness.

I used to think I was loved, but then, I understood all my pain came from him.

A bitter smile crept onto my lips, and my tears streamed down like a broken faucet.

Tristan was my beacon of hope at the start of my miserable life three years ago. After our marriage, I gifted the emerald bracelet to him in hopes of blessing him with a smooth-sailing life.

Yet, the bracelet disappeared in less than a week.

When I confronted him, he smiled and explained that he had put it away in a safe, not wanting to tarnish it from daily wear.

With the photo of proof before my eyes, I realized that what had once been a gift to him was now regifted to his unrequited love.

To reclaim the only item my mother had left for me, I tapped the dial button with my trembling finger.

Surprisingly, Tristan promptly answered my call.

I recalled that whenever he accompanied me for meals, shopping, or work, a special ringtone would always ring at the perfect moment. He would instantly answer, and it was always followed with some excuse that seemed just right to brush me off.

He must've had a unique ringtone for me, too.

"Hey, Tia. I'm back at the company to handle some stuff. Have you missed me already? I didn't know you were this clingy."

I stayed quiet momentarily and didn't call out his lies. Instead, I asked, "Is the emerald bracelet still with you, Tristan?"

There was a brief pause in his breathing, and after a moment, he spoke awkwardly. "Oh, it's locked away in the drawer in my study. Why did you ask?

"Right—it'll be our third anniversary in a few days. Are you planning a surprise for me, honey?"

"I… want to wear it to visit Mom. Could you come with?" I asked tentatively.

After a momentary daze, he replied, "Sure. We'll find time and visit your mother."

Was that so? Would I really see her again?

I switched off my phone, completed the discharge procedures, and went home. As I approached the study, the scent of jasmine greeted me.

Tristan's study was a place he never allowed me to enter, and he never liked wearing perfume. The scent probably belonged to Delilah.

Someone else had already taken over a place I never stepped into.

I pushed open the door and froze when I saw the photo on the desk.

Delilah was smiling brightly, lying in Tristan's arms. His eyes were filled with a genuine smile I had never seen before. And yet, there wasn't a single photo of us together.

I had once hoped to take wedding pictures with him, but he said he was afraid I would face even more gossip, so he chose to marry me in secret and kept everything simple.

As I looked back on it, it was clear he never intended to make our relationship public.

At that moment, the sound of the door opening came from the living room. I turned around and saw Tristan rush into the study, his face filled with panic.

He exhaled sharply as he looked at a certain spot and then fixed his gaze on me. "When did I say you could enter? Get out of here."

"Lethia, you know Tristan hates it the most when someone enters his study without permission. Shouldn't you better as his wife?" Delilah jeered.

Delilah crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, mocking me with her sarcastic gaze.

I simply glanced at her without refuting. As his wife, I was forbidden from entering his study, yet Delilah could freely do so.

Tristan walked out of the study. He looked ready to say something, but then he noticed I was upset. Instantly, he came to my side and said, "I was harsh earlier. Here, I bought you supper. Come join us."

As I looked at the bag of obvious leftovers, I furrowed my brows and snickered. "I don't want to eat anything that came out of nowhere."

His expression shifted before he inched closer. "Lila queued for a long time just to get you this. Can you be less aggressive?

"Anyway, she sprained her ankle today. It wouldn't be safe for her to be outside alone, so I took her in for the night. Don't be mad, okay?"

I didn't want to say anything else and simply nodded as a response. I rose to my feet and prepared to leave, but he suddenly wore a darkened expression and tugged at my wrist.

With a low voice, he warned, "What kind of tantrum are you throwing right now? She's your sister, no matter what. Even if she'd taken your ex-fiancé from you, you only have yourself to blame. Why pull a long face at her?"

When I heard those words, I was too stunned to react. I knew he didn't love me, but I didn't expect he wanted me to be nice to my stepsister and blamed me for what happened three years ago.

I delivered a harsh slap across his face, intending to leave.

"Where are you going? Lila has something to discuss with you."

Tristan blocked me in my path, his eyes oozing with adoration when he looked at Delilah. His gaze conveyed anger when he turned to me, but he suppressed it because she had a favor to ask.

He had never treated me like this before.

Once, when I needed help from someone, he deliberately sabotaged my collaboration with them because of some past grudge. As a result, I ended up paying a hefty penalty for breaching the contract.

He claimed he couldn't stand that person and told me not to work with them. Now that he felt the same hostility toward me, he was surprisingly willing to tolerate it for Delilah's sake.

"Lethia, you're a game designer, too. Soon, I'll be joining a contest at my new company, and I'll need you to teach me some theoretical knowledge. I appreciate your help in advance," Delilah said.

After she finished speaking, Tristan didn't wait for me to mention that the car accident had caused me to lose my memories of game design and immediately pulled me back into the study.

"Tia, I was wrong earlier. Let me apologize to you. Now, will you please teach Lila everything you know?"

He then flung my hand away and pinched Delilah's cheek. "Go on in. She won't hurt you with me around."

A wave of helplessness washed over me as I took in his worried expression.

After Delilah playfully cast him outside the door, she turned to me and sarcastically said, "I know you can't teach me anything. It must feel awful to have lost your memories, right?"

As she spoke, she skilfully switched on Tristan's laptop, which he never let me touch. "I bet you didn't know you lost your memories because Tristan wanted me to win first place in the competition.

"He removed your memories without batting an eye, just so he could give me your precious designs."

I stood frozen in place upon hearing this, while Delilah looked at me with contempt and scoffed. "Idiot."

I ignored her mockery and followed her wandering figure around the study. The walls were filled with pictures and sketches, all expressions of Tristan's unspoken longing—for Delilah, not me.

At that moment, I felt like an outsider, stumbling into a memory that belonged to their close connection. Delilah picked up a carefully drawn sketch and walked over to me.

I froze. The profile in the drawing was identical to mine, except for a mole at the corner of the eye.

I had seen this drawing before on Tristan's desk. He had gently pulled me into his arms, smiling as he tapped my nose and said, "I drew this specifically for you, Tia. Do you like it?"

Delilah looked at me, her tone filled with mockery. "Did you think he was drawing you? No, silly. He was drawing me while waiting for my dance class to finish.

"Just like your mother, you're a piece of useless garbage. Your mother couldn't keep her man from my mother, and you'll naturally follow her footsteps."

She continued, "I'm feeling generous tonight, so I'll let you on to something—I was the one who caused your public humiliation.

"You were an arrogant heiress, while I had to wear the label of the illegitimate daughter of a homewrecker! Nobody cared about the truth that Mom knew Dad first!

"I should've had everything you had! So, tell me, how did it feel like going from the revered young heiress admired by everyone to a shameless bitch?

"Even your homewrecking mother is dead! And your child—right, even your child is mine now."

As a buzz pierced through my head, I glared at Delilah with my bloodshot eyes and screamed, "Shut up!"

"Considering how miserable you are, I'll let you in on another secret. Go to the summit of Echofall Peak, and a surprise might await you there. After all, you're about to lose everything soon," she said with a smile.