When I woke up, the doctor was the first to speak.

"You lost so much blood and didn’t take care of yourself. You were found freezing in the snow. Do you realize you were on the brink of death when you were brought here?"

I closed my eyes, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

"Sorry..."

"Sorry? Why are you apologizing to us?" The doctor and nurses exchanged concerned looks. "You should be apologizing to yourself. You’ve pushed your body too far. If you don't take better care of yourself, you could lose your kidneys. It could even be fatal next time."

A sharp thought struck me. "Who brought me to the hospital?"

"Your wife. She cried for a long time when she dropped you off."

I froze, biting my lip to hold back the wave of emotions.

The door to my room opened, and the doctor added, "She's here now. Be more careful in the future. Don't take your health for granted."

I turned, expecting to see Serena, but my gaze locked onto someone I hadn’t seen in ten years: my stepsister, Gwen.

I felt a pang of embarrassment. "Gwen, it's been so long. What brought you back to Los Angeles?"

She wiped her red, swollen eyes and sighed. "I came for a multinational meeting. I didn’t expect to see you on the road to the winery."

I realized then that the car I had seen when I collapsed that night was hers.

She reached out, her hand warm as she gently placed it over mine. "Anthony, if you're tired, come back to me. Auntie’s gone, so you don't need to stay with a woman who doesn’t love you, just to avoid me."

I whispered, "I chose Serena because I love her."

Gwen sighed and placed a plane ticket on my bedside table. "Anthony, this ticket never expires. Whenever you're ready, just take it to the airport, and a private plane will bring you to me."

"You still remember my number, right? Call me anytime, and I’ll be there for you."

When she left, I gripped the ticket tightly for a moment before setting it down.

I opened my phone and bought the next available flight. Then, I called the place where Serena and I had signed our marriage contract.

"If you request a divorce unilaterally, we’ll strip you of all your assets, transfer everything to the woman, and you’ll face a one-year sentence. Think carefully."

I spoke quietly but firmly, "If it means I can get a divorce, I’m willing to do anything."

"Your divorce will be finalized in a week."

As soon as I checked my phone, I was bombarded with notifications—endless bills for hotels, nightclubs, and Smurfs that had been charged to my account.

Then, I saw a screenshot from one of my friends, showing Isaiah’s Instagram. From the night I collapsed in the snow until now, there had been over a dozen posts.

Serena had taken Isaiah on a vacation to an island.

In one photo, their little hands were overlapped, and the reflection in the window showed their blurred figures. Another showed Isaiah holding Serena’s hand as they cut a cake to announce the gender of their baby.

A comment from someone who knew us appeared: "Serena’s not even divorced yet, and here she is flaunting her relationship with the so-called ‘mistress.’"

Serena’s reply was cold: "Only the unloved are mistresses."

My heart twisted in agony, and a hollow smile crept across my face. Despair was the only thing left.

I checked out of the hospital, and while they were on vacation, I prepared to pack my things.

When I opened the door to my house, I was hit with the stifling air, and the floor was covered in Smurfs.

I trudged upstairs with a pale face, only to find that my master bedroom and studio had been completely transformed into a baby’s room. The walls were adorned with large maternity photos of Serena lying in Isaiah’s arms, her belly exposed. Their sweet smiles—those that had once been mine too—blurred my vision, filling me with a sickening sense of betrayal.

My belongings had been carelessly tossed into the garbage dump in the backyard, including our wedding photo. The one she had once placed so carefully on our bedside table, now lying discarded in a pile of dirt. The photo, my life, was now reduced to nothing.

I glanced at my scratched-up face, the marks and bruises, a cruel reminder of everything I had endured. Footprints from Serena's high heels marred the floor where our shared memories once stood.

I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the ache in my chest.

Forget it. There was nothing left to pack.

I grabbed my passport and some important documents, preparing to leave the place that had once been my home.

Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open, and there they were—Serena and Isaiah, both smiling as if they hadn’t just destroyed everything I held dear.

But when their eyes landed on me, their joy faltered.

Serena’s face twisted into an expression of hidden satisfaction, almost mocking. "Oh, aren’t you proud of yourself? I told you not to come back, and yet here you are. Did you see my honeymoon with Isaiah and feel jealous? Regretful?"

Her voice dripped with spite.

"It’s too late," she continued, her tone icy. "Even if you beg and cry, I won’t forgive you."

Isaiah, trying to force a smile, added, "Serena, this is your wedding room, after all. How can I come here? If your Anthony sees this, he might get angry again."

Serena shot me a sharp glance, her voice cutting like ice. "I’ve made myself clear. Even if I marry him, what does it matter? You’re the third party—the one who’s unloved. You’re not worthy of me having his child. Isn’t that right, Anthony?"

I was exhausted, my spirit crushed. I handed her the divorce agreement, my voice barely a whisper. "Sign this, and you can have everything you want—both in law and in your heart. You can be Isaiah’s wife."

Without a word, she let go of Isaiah’s hand and walked over to snatch the divorce papers from me. In an instant, she ripped them to shreds, the pieces falling like confetti, landing across my face.

I closed my eyes and listened to the venom in her voice as she gritted her teeth. "You want a divorce? You’re dreaming!"

"You’ve wasted years of my life, and now you think you can just walk away? No, Anthony. You’ll pay for this."

I let out a hollow laugh, my voice trembling. "As long as you sign the divorce, I’ll give you everything—every penny. I’ll leave with nothing."

Isaiah froze, his breath catching as he struggled to contain his excitement.

Serena grabbed my wrist, fury and disbelief flashing across her face.

"I don’t want your dirty money!" she spat. "Where do you think you're going? Gwen’s back, and you can’t stand being in this house anymore, can you?"

"What does Gwen have to do with this?" I couldn’t keep the frustration from spilling out. "Do I really have to sit here and watch you two parading around together?"

I glared at her, my words cutting. "Do you have some kind of sick need to make this public? Is it not enough that I’m already here, watching you two flaunt your happiness?"

Her breath hitched, but then a flash of realization crossed her face. She smiled knowingly.

"Are you jealous?" she asked, her voice laced with mock sweetness.

She let go of my wrist and walked over to Isaiah. "You know, every time I went out on a date with Isaiah, you always drove me there, remember?"

The memory struck me like a punch to the gut. I remembered how, after her miscarriage, I’d taken extra care to make sure she wasn’t overexerting herself, worrying about her health. I’d been naïve enough to believe I was protecting her, but it turned out I had been facilitating their affair.

"You knew all my needs," she continued, her voice a sickening whisper. "You knew when to pass me the Smurfs, when to hand me the wet wipes..."

I clenched my fists, the pain in my palms a reminder of how much I had suffered. "Don’t go too far," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

She sneered, her words dripping with venom. "I’m not the one who sleeps with one woman one minute and marries another the next."

My hands trembled as I listened to her unfounded accusations and the venomous rumors she spewed. The weight of her words cut through me like a blade, and it took every ounce of strength to quell the searing pain in my chest. Numbly, I pushed her away and walked out, hoping to escape the suffocating atmosphere she had created.

As I passed by Isaiah, his leg shot out, blocking my path. I didn’t have time to react, and before I could brace myself, I tumbled down the stairs. The sickening sound of bones snapping was accompanied by a searing pain that seemed to consume me entirely.

I blacked out, only the heart-wrenching scream of Serena echoing in my ears.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was Serena’s haggard face, drained of its previous beauty. Her eyes were swollen and bruised, the mask of perfection she once wore now shattered. For a brief moment, I saw something in her eyes—was it pity?

"You're awake," she said softly, her voice cold. "The doctor said your internal injuries are severe. Your kidneys... they've been removed. You won’t ever have children."

I stared at her, too numb to feel anything but an overwhelming fatigue. She hesitated before continuing, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "The medical records show you were rushed here yesterday. You didn’t just leave, did you? What were you trying to do?"

I reached for my phone, intent on calling the police, but she grabbed my hand to stop me.

"I’m calling the police," I said in a flat, cold tone. "Isaiah pushed me down the stairs. He should be held accountable."

"I've already punished him," Serena replied, her lips pressed tightly together. "Can you please stop making this harder?"

"Punished him?" My voice was strained. "How?"

She faltered, avoiding my gaze. "I told him... not to get into my bed tonight."

The chill that ran through me almost made me laugh, but it came out more as a bitter, hollow sound.

She frowned at me, visibly frustrated by my lack of reaction. "Can you stop being so sarcastic? You’re useless now. The doctor said you’ll have a hard time ever having children. Why don’t you just look forward to Isaiah giving me one? How do you plan to punish him, huh?"

I didn’t say anything, and her tone shifted, softening in an almost awkward way. "It’s my fault this time. I know you wanted a child. I couldn’t give you one, but when you’re better, I’ll ask Isaiah to let you be the godfather. I’ll make it right."

I remained silent, my mind racing with thoughts of what had been lost, of everything she had stolen. Her patience wore thin. "What’s with this silence? What are you so upset about?" she demanded, her voice rising in anger.

"You think I don’t know?" she continued, her eyes blazing with fury. "You married me because Gwen wanted you. She climbed into your bed, and you were afraid the truth would come out—afraid it would ruin your mother’s chance at marriage. That’s why she picked me as the scapegoat, right?"

She took a breath, gathering her anger. "You made a fool of me, Anthony. You ruined everything we had. My wedding, my marriage… You wanted me to stay quiet, didn’t you? I only had a trainer. Every time I got pregnant, I had to abort it to save your image!"

I felt my chest tighten as she went on, fury and bitterness lacing her every word. "And behind my back, you were sending those texts to Gwen, betraying me, betraying everything we built! If Isaiah hadn’t told me, I would have been played for a fool!"

"I didn’t!"

The words barely escaped me before her gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She suddenly reached between the sheets and pulled out a plane ticket. My heart sank as I saw the private jet ticket—ANTHNYAIR’s private jet—the one Gwen had named after me.

Serena’s eyes filled with rage, her hand gripping my hair as she slapped me hard across the face.

"Don’t you dare lie! This boarding pass—this ticket—was from Gwen! She wanted you to leave me, to run off with her! You still think I’m stupid enough to believe you didn’t have an affair?"

Her words cut deeper than the slap. It felt like everything had fallen apart at once, and I was powerless to stop it.

"I won’t let you go," she hissed, her grip tightening. "If you think you can leave me for her, think again. You belong to me, Anthony. Even if you die, you’re mine. I won’t let you be happy with anyone else."

She shoved me violently, and I fell off the bed, the IV bottle crashing to the ground. Glass shattered, and blood seeped from the wound beneath me. I winced in pain, my vision blurry.

"Serena, are you really this insecure?" I whispered through the pain, struggling to keep my voice steady. "You think you’re not worthy of love, don’t you?"

She stood over me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were wild, a mixture of anger, hurt, and something darker—resentment.