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.

"You..."

Before I could finish speaking, the door swung open, and the servant hurried in.

"Miss, Mr. Isaiah... he's vomited blood. He's in a bad state. You need to come quickly."

Serena’s face shifted instantly, her concern sharpening into something else. She rushed past me without a second glance. "If it weren’t for you, Isaiah wouldn’t have felt so guilty. He wouldn’t have collapsed like this. Come with me, now! You need to comfort him."

She grabbed my arm, dragging me through the hallway to the VIP ward, where I found Isaiah, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted in guilt. He was on his knees, as if ready to beg for mercy.

"Serena, I swear, I never meant to hurt Anthony. I was just trying to dodge him—he was about to hit me, and I didn’t expect him to fall down the stairs. He’s saying I pushed him, but I didn’t."

My heart twisted as I locked eyes with him, and in that moment, I saw his satisfaction hidden behind the act. He feigned weakness, his voice shaking. "If Anthony still holds this against me, then I’ll kneel. I’ll apologize, I’ll do whatever it takes."

I met his gaze, my blood boiling, but I said nothing. Serena rushed forward, regret painted all over her face as she wrapped her arms around him. "It’s not your fault," she murmured, her voice filled with fake compassion.

Then, with surprising force, she grabbed me, dragging me to kneel before him. "This is all his fault," she spat, shoving my head down.

She grabbed Isaiah’s hand and slapped it across my face, the sting biting through my skin. The old wedding ring on his finger scraped against my cheek, leaving a raw mark.

"It's because of him that you're like this, Isaiah," she hissed. "Hit him back."

Isaiah feigned innocence, drawing his hand back. "Isn’t this a bit much?" he asked, pretending to hesitate. "But if you slap him, one slap will cost you a Maserati. If you keep hitting him until he bleeds, I’ll get you a villa."

"Really?" Serena’s eyes lit up.

"Really," Isaiah smirked, raising his hand to strike me.

I recoiled instinctively, but I wasn’t quick enough. His hand barely missed my face, and in the process, he almost threw out his back.

Serena’s expression darkened, her patience thinning. She turned to the bodyguard by the door and nodded, signaling him to move. Before I could react, a sharp pain exploded in my leg as it was kicked out from under me. I screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground.

"Now he can't dodge," Serena muttered, her voice cold. "Hit him. Do it."

The world around me blurred, my ears ringing with the sound of her orders. I was dizzy with pain, my vision swimming as I lay on the cold floor. Isaiah’s greedy smirk was the last thing I saw before my vision faded.

When I finally hit the ground, Serena pulled Isaiah's hand over and exhaled in fake sympathy. "Does your hand hurt, my dear?" she cooed. "I’ll blow on it for you."

He looked at me, his voice dripping with mockery. "What about Anthony?"

Serena's gaze turned to me, her eyes narrowing. "He doesn’t deserve it," she sneered. Then, with sudden determination, she walked toward me. "You want to leave me? Fine. I’ll give you a chance."

I wiped the sweat from my brow, heart pounding. "What do you want from me?"

Her laugh was low and unsettling. "Mr. Crisp, the famous man from Orlando, must be worth a lot of money, right? If you were put up for auction, you’d fetch quite a price, wouldn’t you?"

My blood ran cold. "You’re insane!"

She didn’t answer, instead gesturing for someone to bring a contract and tossing it in front of me. "Sign it," she ordered. "Sign the agreement to be an auction item."

I shook my head, refusing, despite the tightness in my chest. "I won’t sign it."

Serena’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "So you won’t? Then let’s see what happens."

With a wave of her hand, someone stumbled into the room, kneeling before me.

My eyes went wide with shock.

It was Ashlyn. The same Ashlyn who had given me her coat that night at the winery. The same Ashlyn who had been Serena’s best friend for years. The woman who had stood beside Serena at our wedding.

But now, she was unrecognizable. Covered in blood, her clothes tattered, she knelt before me, her head lowered in submission. She began to kowtow, begging for mercy.

"Are you out of your mind?" I gasped, staring at Serena. "She’s your best friend! How can you do this to her?"

Serena’s eyes glinted with malice, her expression cold. "What? Are you feeling sorry for her?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Mr. Crisp from Orlando is truly something else—first, he seduces his stepsister, and now my best friend? She stood up for my husband, so I punished her."