The following day marked the anniversary of the deaths of both my parents and my daughter.

Bruce drove me to the cemetery. He was holding my hand tightly on our way.

His touch used to be my only comfort and strength.

But it felt so intense that it made me want to take my hand back now.

Just as we arrived at the cemetery gates, Bruce's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and his gentle expression shifted slightly at that moment.

He quickly released my hand and stepped aside. He spoke in a low voice, yet I could still hear him clearly. "Don't cry. I'll be there soon."

The tone of urgency and concern was something I'd never felt from him before.

Bruce returned with a guilty look on his face. "Vera, something emergent happened in the company. There was an accident at the construction site in the southern suburbs, and someone died. I have to handle it right away."

I looked at him quietly. "Do you remember what day it is today? Are you going to lie in front of my parents and our daughter?"

A flash of panic and guilt quickly crossed Bruce's eyes.

He emphasized it. "Vera, this is truly urgent. It's a matter of life and death. Please don't make a fuss. You can go in and visit their graves alone. I'll ask the driver to pick you up afterward."

With that, he turned and walked away briskly, leaving me at the cemetery entrance.

I stood before the three cold tombstones and slowly placed my daughter's favorite strawberry candies one by one on her grave.

Tears finally fell, blurring my vision.

I recalled the time when Bruce was first adopted by my parents. He was small and frail, timid and insecure.

My father taught him to read and write. My mother fed him. They had helped him become who he was now.

He once expressed deep gratitude to my parents and vowed to treat me well forever.

I remembered our wedding day when he swore in front of my parents.

"Don't worry about Vera. I will never fail her. I will die a miserable death if I do."

The vow still echoed in my ears, yet the man who swore it had betrayed me in the most brutal way.

Just then, my phone vibrated abruptly.

It was from the same anonymous number.

I received no taunting words, just a video.

I trembled as I opened it.

It only showed two entwined naked bodies.

The background sound was a woman's seductive moans and Bruce's passionate groans. "You little temptress, such a seducer. You lied about Caiden being sick and worried me to death. Just wait. I will punish you today."

My heart hurt so much that I could hardly breathe.

It turned out his "construction site accident" was just an excuse to rush into the arms of this temptress.

He couldn't even wait to pay respects to my family.

I closed the video and gently touched the cold photo of my daughter on the tombstone.

My other hand rested on my slightly rounded belly. "Sweetheart, I have a baby now. We won't forgive him, will we? We will never, ever forgive him."

After leaving the cemetery, I hailed a taxi to the old apartment in the city center.

That used to be the home I shared with my parents. After Bruce and I got married, we lived there. The tragic incident had happened there.

Over the past six years, I had suffered severe post-traumatic stress disorder and deep depression, so I dared not set foot there.

Bruce feared that it would trigger my memories and worsen my condition if I revisited there, so he bought a luxurious riverside apartment to help me start anew.

Everyone praised him as a devoted husband who was so nice to his depressed wife and a good guy.

I used to think the same.

Now, looking back, I realized how laughable it was.

Bruce and I were getting divorced.

Before leaving this city, I wanted to return and take one last look at the place that held all my happiness and all my sorrow. It was like a formal farewell.

As the taxi turned into the alley of the old neighborhood, my heart clenched suddenly.

A black Maybach was parked downstairs. It was unmistakably familiar to me.

Wasn't Bruce supposed to be handling the emergency at the construction site in the southern suburbs?

His urgent matter was there?

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. I thought I had run dry of tears for him.

Yet when the harsh truth confronted me once again, tears ran down uncontrollably.

With trembling hands, I dialed Bruce's number.

The phone rang for a long time before he answered. His voice sounded husky with desire. "Vera? What's wrong?"

I struggled to suppress the lump in my throat and tried to keep my voice as calm as possible. "Bruce, I... I miss Mom and Dad. I'm almost downstairs at the old apartment. I want to go up and take a look."

Instantly, the sound of clattering dishes and a sudden commotion erupted on the other end of the line.

Bruce's tone shifted to extreme panic. "No, Vera. Don't go up. You're pregnant now. You are not well. What if seeing things stirs up emotions and harms the baby? We've been through so much to have this baby. Please, be good and listen to me. Go home now. I'll be right back after handling things here."

His voice was filled with urgent concern. He seemed to genuinely care for the baby and me.

But I could only feel irony. "I'm just downstairs. I'll take a quick look and leave."

Without waiting for his response, I hung up the phone and quickly hid in the shadow of the alley wall.

In less than three minutes, the door to the apartment building opened.

Bruce emerged, holding the little boy from the video.

He was clutching Rosalyn with the other hand.

The three of them rushed out and looked flustered.

I saw clearly that Rosalyn was actually wearing a silk dress with intricate embroidery. It was my mother's favorite one.

And the little boy held my daughter's beloved rattle.

It was my home, my parents' home, the place where my daughter passed away...

But it had become the love nest of my husband and another woman.

Bruce's supposed "fear of triggering my memories and worsening my condition" and his excuse of not wanting me to go back to a place of sadness turned out to be just a convenient excuse for keeping his mistress hidden away.

I raised my phone and snapped dozens of photos of the glaring three people and the Maybach's license plate.

Watching them get in the car and flee, I leaned against the weathered wall. I couldn't support myself and slowly slid to the ground.

So, when the heart was truly broken, it became numb to pain.

As soon as I returned home, I immediately called Martin. "I've got the evidence. Please come over, and we can sign the authorization."

While waiting for the lawyer, the doorbell rang.

I assumed Martin had arrived early and opened the door.

But there was the last person I wanted to see.

It was Rosalyn.

She stood at my doorstep and held the hand of a little boy. She looked smug.

She looked me up and down with disdain. "Vera, did you enjoy the video? Were the photos clear? You really know how to keep calm. I thought you would have blown up at Bruce yesterday."

She walked into the living room as if she owned the place. She surveyed the apartment where I'd lived for six years. "This place is nice. It is a river-view flat with great scenery. But Bruce told me that this apartment would eventually be transferred to my son, Caiden."

Her triumphant expression made my stomach churn.

"Get out," I said coldly.

Rosalyn seemed to have heard the most ridiculous joke and laughed wildly. "Vera, don't be so angry. It's bad for your health."

She heaved her breasts deliberately and leaned closer. She whispered, "Let me tell you the truth, Vera. Bruce never loves you. He only pities you because your family is gone, and no one wants you. That's why he took you in out of kindness. He says it feels like being with a shell of a person when he is with you. He feels suffocated with despair. He only loves me and his son, whom I gave birth to."

Each of her words pierced my heart.

I slapped her hard across the face with all the force I could muster.

Rosalyn went with the push, stumbling back dramatically.

Her head hit the sharp corner of the coffee table with precision.

Blood instantly flowed from her forehead.

"Help! She's killing me!" Rosalyn screamed, and her voice was piercing through the ceiling.

Just then, the apartment door burst open, and Bruce rushed in.

His face was full of urgency.

As soon as he saw Rosalyn lying on the floor, covered in blood, his eyes turned red.

He shouted at me, "Vera, have you lost your mind? How did you become so vicious?"

Rosalyn sobbed uncontrollably in his arms. "Bruce, don't blame her. It's all my fault... Caiden missed you and kept crying at home. I had no choice but to bring him here to see you... She might have had another episode. She wasn't intentional..."

While speaking, she winked at Caiden.

Caiden suddenly charged at me and knocked me to the floor with all his might. "Bad woman, don't bully my mommy."

I fell backward uncontrollably and hit the floor hard.

Immediately, a warm liquid surged from beneath me.

"My belly... It hurts... My baby..." I groaned in agony, and cold sweat beaded on my forehead.

Bruce glanced at me struggling and then at Rosalyn, whose forehead was still bleeding profusely.

He hesitated for a short moment.

He said to me coldly, "Vera, enough. Stop pretending!" "I've done everything I could to accommodate your depression over the years. Why aren't you satisfied? "Rosalyn is bleeding badly. She needs to go to the hospital immediately."

With that, he picked up Rosalyn, who was sobbing, took the hand of the smug-looking boy, and stormed out without a backward glance.

He left me alone on the cold floor, and blood continued to flow beneath me.

My vision blurred, and my consciousness began to fade.

Just as I was about to faint, the door opened again, and a familiar figure appeared against the light. "Vera."