By the time I signed the agreement and returned home, the snowstorm had stopped, but the biting wind had cut through me. Numbly, I climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.

The party was over, and the dining room was a mess. Even the turkey I had hoped to eat was unfinished, discarded on the floor.

Stephen sat at the table, smoking. The moment he saw me, his face darkened instantly. He grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at me.

I was only a year older than Daisy! Why did I have to put up with so much?

Every time I reacted to something Daisy said, Stephen would immediately take her side, belittling me along with her.

"Daisy's right, you know. Why are you so petty? Can't you take a bit of truth?"

I was angry and disappointed. I went from being a pampered lady to a despised woman.

I had fought with him, trying to hold onto the little dignity I had left in this marriage. But now, I didn't want to argue anymore.

It was pointless to fight for a relationship that was rotten beyond repair.

The ashtray hit my stomach, and the pain was sharp and bitter.

He must have thought that my silence meant I accepted my fault.

With a smug smile, he said, "What are you standing there for? Can't you see how messy the table is? Hurry up and clean up."

I supported myself with one hand on the counter and glanced at the floor. It was covered with the remnants of their dinner—spilled wine mixed with cream, everything a mess.

They complained about me being in the way when they were celebrating, but when it came to cleaning up the mess, I was the only one left to do it.

I had no intention of cleaning. I was just going to my room to freshen up and then join the kids for opening Christmas presents.

But when I twisted the bedroom door handle, Daisy walked out, wearing an alluring black lace nightgown.

She feigned surprise when she saw me.

"Alison? Oh, I didn't know you'd be home. I didn't have anything to wear, so I borrowed yours. You won't mind, right? You're pregnant, so you can't wear it anyway."

"Why are you here?"

"It's snowing heavily outside. I was worried about her going home in this weather, so I let her stay over. You're not going to start a fight over this, are you?" Stephen explained casually.

At that moment, I looked into the living room. Daisy had already joined the kids, and they were opening Christmas presents together under the tree.

The floor was covered with torn wrapping paper, and the kids were laughing joyfully, bouncing around the tree.

"Thanks, Ms. Daisy! This gaming console is so cool!"

"And this watch—we can do video calls with it!"

They carefully hugged the electronic gifts Daisy had brought, their faces lighting up with uncontainable joy.

As for the gifts I had spent so much time preparing—the scarves and hats I had knitted over months—those were just discarded in a pile of scrap paper, left unnoticed.

"Mom, these are so old-fashioned. We don't want them."

My youngest son looked at me and didn't even try to hide his disgust. "Ms. Daisy's gifts are way better!"

"Mom, Ms. Daisy's going to take us skiing this year. You're so fat now, so you should just stay home."

In that moment, it felt like my heart was being squeezed, and the pain made me breathless.

"Alison, don't be upset. I'm glad the kids like their gifts. It's not a big deal, really," Daisy said.

"But you've stolen my chance to spend Christmas with my kids! You've crossed the line. You're not welcome in my house!" I yelled.

Without thinking, I grabbed the gifts Daisy had given the kids from their hands. The children cried out loudly, protesting.

Stephen immediately intervened, pushing me to the floor with impatience. His voice dripped with annoyance. "Stop with that sour expression! Do you really want to ruin the kids' Christmas with your ridiculous jealousy?"

I pointed at Daisy, my voice shaking. "She's clearly trying to cause problems between us. Are you just going to ignore it?"

He scoffed, his expression cold. "Stop with the drama. The kids don't like your gifts. Should I make them lie and pretend they're grateful for those ugly things you made? And just because you're pregnant, do you think the whole world should revolve around you?"

He turned to Daisy. "Why don't you head to the bedroom and get some rest? You've had a rough night."

He guided Daisy to the bedroom while the kids followed, their eyes filled with fear as they looked at me, their mother.

At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. I picked myself up from the floor and went straight to the bedroom.

I didn't notice the surprise flicker in his eyes as I left.

I thought that with Daisy around, Stephen wouldn't even spare me a second glance that night.

But to my surprise, just before I was about to fall asleep, I heard soft footsteps, and then he quietly entered the room.

His warm hand brushed against my waist. "Does it still hurt?" he asked with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"I've already cleaned up the house. Why can't you just let things go? There were so many people here tonight and you're making a scene over a joke. You're not thinking about the baby—calm down, please."

"You still care about this baby?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm.

His movement froze for a moment.

As he leaned in to kiss me, I grabbed his hand and placed it on my belly, tracing the stretch marks there.

He jerked back, startled.

Realizing his reaction had been too intense, he opened his mouth to apologize just as his phone rang.

In the quiet room, I could hear Daisy's distressed voice on the other end.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Greene. I must have upset Alison. I shouldn't stay here anymore. I'll leave and go home, you don't need to worry about me—ah!"

The phone call was abruptly cut off with a scream.

Stephen panicked completely.

He quickly threw on his coat and yanked me off the bed.

"If anything happens to Daisy tonight, it's on you! You're the one who caused this!" he snapped.

"It's not like I told her to go out at night! How is that my fault?"

I struggled to free myself, but he dragged me out of the house and shoved me into the car.

I was still wearing that thin nightgown, shivering from the cold as I sneezed uncontrollably.

But he didn't seem to care.

He floored the gas pedal, driving as fast as he could.

Ten minutes later, we saw Daisy's figure lying on the side of the road.

He immediately rushed out of the car, scooping her up and driving like a maniac toward the hospital.

As he sped down the road, he kept muttering, "If anything happens to Daisy, you'll pay for it!"

While Daisy was being checked at the hospital, pain suddenly coursed through my abdomen.

The whole night's chaos had taken its toll, and my body couldn't handle it anymore.

I broke out into a cold sweat, bracing myself against the wall to keep from falling.

After what felt like forever, Stephen finally noticed me.

But instead of concern, his voice was cold and mocking. "Stop acting, Alison. Daisy fell, not you. I can't believe you're like this! You look so put-together on the outside, but you can't even tolerate a young woman!"

Later that night, I sent a message to my lawyer. [Please help me file for divorce as soon as possible.]

Stephen passed by me, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? I asked you to help, not hide away!"

At that moment, Daisy cried out from the hospital room. Stephen dragged me inside.

He pointed at Daisy, his voice harsh. "Apologize to her."

"Alison, if you hadn't caused trouble tonight, Daisy would have been safe at home instead of getting hit by a car on Christmas!"

His shameless words made me laugh in disbelief.

"I caused trouble? Didn't you hear her attacking me personally? Stephen, I'm carrying your child. When she insults me, it's an insult to you too. Are you really that dense?"

For the first time in five years, I yelled at him.

Stephen's eyes burned with rage.

Before he could speak, Daisy, still lying in bed, began to cry.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I just wanted to surprise the kids. I thought a little joke would help them bond with you, Alison. I never meant to make you upset. Please don't fight because of me. It's all my fault. I'll quit my job and leave as soon as I'm better. I won't show my face in front of you ever again."

Stephen gritted his teeth, trying to control his fury.

"I'll say this one last time, Alison: Apologize. Stop holding grudges against Daisy. I've told you so many times already."

I stared at him, our gazes locked for what felt like an eternity. Without saying a word, I turned and left the room.

As soon as I stepped outside, his voice rang out behind me. "Go ahead and leave, but don't you dare come back! Alison, sooner or later, you'll come crawling back to me, pregnant and begging!"

Tears slid down my face, and I quickened my pace, the onlookers' curious eyes following me.

Outside, the snowstorm raged again. With my heavy, eight-month-pregnant body, I made my way out of the hospital.

The hospital was in a remote area, and after waiting for what felt like forever, I couldn't catch a cab.

I wondered if the baby could sense my struggle, as it finally calmed down and stopped squirming.

On Christmas night, while others were celebrating with their families, I, alone, trudged three miles to the nearest hotel.

By the time I checked in, it was already 4:00 AM. My clothes were covered in frost from the snow and wind. The hotel clerk was shocked when they saw me, immediately draping a warm coat over my shoulders.

While paying, a notification popped up on my phone.

I glanced at it—it was a post from Daisy.

In the live photo, Stephen was serving her a steaming mug of ginger tea, gently pressing on her swollen ankle.

The caption read, [Sweet words can't compare to actions in the early morning. On Christmas night, someone who truly cares for you will never say they're tired. Thanks for your kindness, boss.]

The post had already gained quite a few likes.

All of them were from Stephen's friends who came over for Christmas.

They had always looked down on me, but they treated Daisy with extra care.

It wasn't hard to imagine what Stephen had said about me behind closed doors, painting me as the one who'd always been overly generous, always trying too hard.

Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a few comments popped up.

[Wow, I've known him for ten years and never got to drink this tea?! Not cool!]

[If I remember correctly, didn't someone once say they'd never do anything for a woman? Now look what he's doing! Looks like Daisy's got some serious influence!]

Each comment felt like a blow to my dignity and pride as his wife.

Of course, I was the cheap one. After five years of marriage, three kids, buying cars and houses for him, and even investing three million dollars into his career, I still had no formal wedding, and here I was, pregnant with our fourth child.

No wonder he didn't appreciate me.

I gave a bitter smile, turned off my phone, and collapsed onto the bed.

I used to be terrified of him asking me to pick him up from the hotel after a night of socializing. I'd never dare silence my phone back then.

Now, I set it to "Do Not Disturb".

I slept until noon the next day. When I finally woke up, I saw his countless messages.

[You didn't come home? Where are you? Send me your location.

[Alison, can't you see my texts? Stop playing dumb. Don't push it!

[Daisy isn't mad at you anymore about what happened yesterday. She wants to take you and the kids to see the new Christmas movie. It's a chance to clear the air. You'd better not throw tantrums like this again in the future.]

His tone made it seem like offering me a chance to explain was the greatest favor he could do.

I rubbed my tired temples, thinking that clearing things up with him would be a good idea, since it was bound to happen sooner or later. So, I sent him the hotel location.

When the car pulled up outside, the window on the passenger side rolled down. Stephen took me in with a disapproving look, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You're going to the movies in a bathrobe? You don't even look like a boss's wife. Are you trying to embarrass me? Daisy defended you all night. Are you really going to pick a fight again?"