I was forced to follow Bosco, watching him broadcast the news from beginning to end.

Everything I had suffered before my death was now laid bare before the public.

But no one knew the truth. And even if they did, no one would believe it.

The victim was none other than the woman who had dominated the headlines five years ago—the international anesthesiologist who abandoned her career, had an affair, and eloped.

Once the broadcast ended, Bosco hurried to a high-rise revolving restaurant in the heart of the city.

In the exclusive VIP section, a woman sat with her back to him, dressed with effortless elegance.

I recognized her instantly—Martha.

Bosco approached, greeting her with an affectionate kiss on the cheek before handing her a gift bag.

"It's for the baby. Our little one will look adorable in this."

Martha's eyes lit up with delight, though she playfully pouted. "You're in such a rush. I'm only two months along. We don't even know if the baby will make it yet."

He placed her hand against his chest, gazing at her with unwavering tenderness.

"No matter what it takes, I will ensure this child is born safely."

I never expected Bosco to cherish his child with Martha so much.

When I unexpectedly became pregnant, I had gone to him, heart brimming with joy. But he had met me with nothing but indifference, citing his career was unstable and that he couldn't afford to raise a child. He told me to get rid of it.

He hadn't even bothered to look at the ultrasound report in my hands.

I had once believed he simply didn't like children. But now, I understood—he just didn't want mine.

Martha tightened her grip around her glass, a faint crease forming between her brows.

"It's my fault for being so useless. Five years, and I still couldn't make you a father."

Bosco gently took the glass from her hands, letting her squeeze his hand instead.

"Don't say that. It was your sister who ruined you. She's the reason you've suffered so many miscarriages, endured so much pain."

"I only went to speak to her out of goodwill…" Her expression suddenly shifted, her shoulders trembling as she clutched her head in distress. "She's not my sister! She doesn't deserve to be!"

Bosco's heart ached at the sight, he pulled her into his arms.

"If I ever see that wretched woman again, I'll make her pay. I'll make her apologize to you! Alright, alright. Don't cry. You can't let this affect the baby."

I remembered that Martha had an incomplete uterine septum, a congenital defect that made pregnancy difficult and miscarriage likely.

She had once been deeply ashamed of it, even hiding it from her own family.

But to cover up her crimes, she had told everyone that I was the one who had injured her.

Now, I finally understood.

Out of sheer jealousy, she had stolen my healthy uterus.

I shook my head furiously, screaming the truth over and over again.

But no one heard me. No one responded.

At that moment, Bosco pulled out his phone and made a brief call.

"I told Phoebe you weren't feeling well, so you won't be attending her 60th birthday tomorrow. You know how much she dotes on you—when has she ever refused you?"

I had always been expected to attend Mom's birthday banquets back then because I had been the daughter she loved most, the one she was proudest of. Martha, on the other hand, could do as she pleased.

But now, things had changed.

For the sake of Martha's pregnancy, Mom had agreed without hesitation to let her miss her 60th birthday.

Martha sighed. "Mom loves me the most. Even if she says it's fine, she'll still be disappointed. She's already been disappointed enough by Abigail. That's why I'll go tomorrow."

A sharp, searing pain spread through my chest.

She had stolen my marriage and taken my life—now, she had even stolen Mom.

But no one knew.

As I watched in despair, Bosco tenderly wiped the tears from her face. "Martha, you're just too kind."

Rather than a birthday banquet, it felt more like they were hosting another wedding reception.

From the moment Martha entered the venue arm in arm with Bosco, they became the center of attention.

Mom sat beside them, watching them with a face full of affection.

I spotted my closest colleague, Faith Bowen, in the crowd.

Out of habit, I raised my hand to wave at her—only to see her walk straight past me and embrace Martha instead.

"Babe!" she called warmly.

She used to call me that.

"Martha, did you see the news? The one your husband reported yesterday? I think it happened at our hospital!"

For the first time, I eagerly anticipated seeing a flicker of panic cross Martha's face.

But to my disappointment, she remained perfectly composed. "Hmm... I think so too."

Faith shook her head. "I wonder if this will hurt the hospital's reputation. Our last PR crisis was five years ago when Abigail abandoned her job and caused an uproar."

That was the first time I'd heard Faith speak of me with such disdain. It was a bitter departure from her usual staunch defense of me, standing by my side no matter what.

Martha took a slow sip of tea. "I'm sure Abigail had her reasons."

Faith slammed her hand on the table in fury. "Reasons? What excuse could she possibly have for cheating on Mr. Sharp and walking away from so many patients?"

Her outburst drew the attention of everyone around.

"So many people were left waiting. Some were in critical condition and nearly died because of the delays. Others suffered complications from postponed exams. Even Mr. Torres was so furious that he fell ill."

Bosco chimed in then. "Fortunately, we had Martha. Despite her injuries, she stepped up to help that person to complete the urgent work."

Hearing the way he referred to me—never even saying my name—sent a piercing ache through my chest.

Eugene Torres approached, patting Martha's back.

"Yes, even though it went against protocol, it was lucky you acted in time. And later, you even proved with your skills that I made the right decision in letting you take Abigail's place."

The surrounding colleagues burst into applause, heaping Martha with praise.

Even Mom stood up, lifting her glass in a toast.

"Even though they're twins, this daughter of mine is far better than the other. That one might as well be dead."

Upon hearing the contempt in Mom's voice, I felt my heart twist in unbearable pain.

"But Mom… I am dead. If you knew, would you mourn me?"

Martha's eyes flickered with satisfaction before she turned to Bosco with feigned curiosity.

"Honey, if Abigail died, would you be sad?"

"No."

His response was immediate—so swift it felt rehearsed, like he had practiced it a thousand times before.

"She is shameless… Even if that illegitimate child had been born, it should have been trampled to death. She betrayed her profession and ruined so many lives. She deserved to die under the knife—to be cut open and gutted like the disgrace she was!

"Her death would be a blessing to humanity."

I stared at Bosco, listening to him predict my manner of death, and in a daze, I recalled the despair and agony of that moment.

"But my child was not illegitimate. It was your child, Bosco!" I shouted.

Tears of blood slipped from my eyes as I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Bosco, congratulations. You finally got what you wanted."