"Phoebe, stop messing around. This meeting is really important," Nathan's voice, unusually flustered, broke through the receiver. "Besides, there's no way I can get home in ten minutes from the office."

Phoebe's response was cold and simple. "Your time starts now."

Then she hung up.

A few minutes later, Clara, half-dressed, was shoved out of the car. Nathan sped off, his Maybach disappearing from the garage in the blink of an eye. That left Clara standing there, humiliated, clutching her belongings against her bare skin.

Phoebe adjusted her seat, settling into a more comfortable position, and turned on her headlights. The bright beam fell directly on Clara.

The darkness hid many things, but light has a way of exposing what shouldn't be seen. Clara, caught off guard, wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "Who? Who's there?!"

Phoebe couldn't be bothered to answer. She simply drove past, her car sweeping smoothly by.

Through the open window, Clara caught a glimpse of Phoebe's cold and striking profile. That was the breaking point. She snapped, screaming after her, "Old hag! Do you really think you've won? Keep dreaming! Your husband is already sick of you. He told me more than once that your flabby body disgusts him!"

The only response was the dirty trail of exhaust fumes.

By the time Phoebe arrived home, Nathan was already in a rage. "What a bunch of useless idiots! You can't even tell me where my wife went. What do I even keep you around for?!"

She stepped into the living room without a word. The moment he saw her, the anger drained from his face. In two long strides, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. His voice trembled slightly. "Phoebe, thank God you're here. I thought you really left me. You scared me half to death."

Phoebe tilted her head up, studying his face. Her voice was calm but unreadable. "Are you that afraid I might disappear?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "Phoebe, you're the most important person in my life. I can't lose you. And now that you're carrying my child, I need you even more."

His voice was sincere, his gaze deep and affectionate. If Phoebe hadn't just witnessed what happened in the car, she might have believed him.

"Promise me," he whispered, his grip tightening around her hand, his tone raw with desperation. "Never leave me. I can't live without you. If you go, I'll lose my mind."

A sharp, aching pain curled through her chest. With tears stinging her eyes, Phoebe thought bitterly, 'Then why cheat on me?'

He clung to another woman, yet begged her to stay—how much of what he said was true, and how much was just a lie?

Noticing the redness in her eyes, Nathan panicked. "Why are you crying?" His voice softened into a coaxing murmur. "Who upset my Phoebe? Tell me, and I'll make them pay."

Phoebe shook her head. "It's nothing. Just pregnancy hormones acting up."

But Nathan still wasn't reassured. He insisted on calling the family doctor to check on her.

When the doctor arrived, Nathan sat nearby, but his mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing at his phone, and each time he did, the hunger in his eyes grew stronger. It didn't take much for Phoebe to understand—Clara was messaging him.

Her own phone buzzed soon after. It was a text from Clara. [Hey fatty, want to bet I can make your husband leave you for me anytime I want?]

The message had barely registered when Nathan stood up, voice tight with urgency. "Phoebe, something came up at work. I need to go back."

On reflex, Phoebe reached out and caught his hand. "Don't go. My stomach hurts. I'm scared. Can't you stay with me?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. His phone buzzed again. Whatever he read there sealed his decision. Gently, he pulled his hand away, smiling as he tried to soothe her. "Dr. Shannon is here. If anything happens, you're in good hands. Besides, I'm not a doctor. I'm not much help. Be good and listen to him. I'll be back soon."

Without waiting for her response, he turned and left in a rush.

At that moment, something inside Phoebe broke beyond repair.

She swallowed the tears burning her throat, picked up her phone, and sent a message to her brother in the military. [Ian, I want to disappear.]

Phoebe couldn't understand it. How had their relationship come to this?

From the moment she and Nathan met, fell in love, and eventually married, they had always been the couple everyone envied.

When he proposed, holding her hand tightly, he had promised her with such solemn sincerity, "They say men change after marriage, but don't worry, Phoebe. Even after we get married, I won't change. I'll spoil you, indulge you, and make sure you'll always be the princess in our fairy tale."

And after they married, he had kept his word. He treated her with the same devotion as when he had first pursued her. Every day, he sent her flowers and often surprised her with thoughtful gifts. Whatever she wanted appeared on her bedside table the next day without her even needing to ask.

It was as if he could read her mind.

Even her closest friends, the ones who always viewed things with a skeptical eye, praised him, calling him a one-in-a-million husband.

But this one-in-a-million husband had still cheated on her.

Was it really, as Clara had claimed, because her body had changed after she became pregnant? Had her weight gain and stretch marks made her less desirable?

Phoebe lowered her head, gazing at her swollen belly. Faint stretch marks curled across the taut skin.

Ugly. They were ugly. Yet before the pregnancy, she had a slender waist and pale, flawless skin, just like Clara. Her stomach had been flat, without the heavy roundness or the unsightly lines marring her body now.

How ironic. She had been willing to sacrifice her figure and endure all the discomfort of pregnancy to give Nathan a child, and in return, he betrayed her.

"Madam, this is fresh black-bone chicken soup with fish maw. Your mother-in-law said it's good for the baby. Please drink it while it's hot," the housekeeper said, carrying a tray toward her.

Alongside the steaming bowl of soup, there was a plate of shelled walnuts and a heaping dish of grapes.

Her mother-in-law had heard that eating grapes during pregnancy would give the baby large, beautiful eyes, while walnuts were said to boost brain development. Determined to have a smart and adorable grandchild, she had instructed the housekeeper to ensure Phoebe ate them every day. If she didn't, the phone calls would come immediately.

"If you didn't know better, you'd think I was forcing poison down your throat," her mother-in-law had once said, her voice half-joking but sharp beneath the surface. "I'm doing this for my grandson. You're not a young girl anymore, you're a mother-to-be. You can't be selfish. It's not just about your preferences now. You need to think about the baby. I'm doing this for your own good. Don't act like I'm trying to hurt you."

Those words echoed relentlessly in Phoebe's mind. Before, no matter how much she disliked the food, she would have forced herself to eat it just to avoid conflict.

But now—

"Take it away," she said, turning her face to the side. "I'm not hungry."

"Even if you're not hungry, you should still eat. Your mother-in-law had this flown in from overseas. It's organic and supposed to be good for the baby," the housekeeper insisted, pushing the tray closer to her.

Just then, Phoebe's phone vibrated again. Another message from Clara.

She had sent an address, followed by a taunting question. [Hey fatty, dare to come?]

Phoebe tightened her grip on the phone.

There was nothing holding her in this house anymore. She might as well go and see for herself.

She drove in silence, following the address Clara had sent. It led her to an auction house.

Frowning, she wondered why Nathan would choose a public place like this to meet his mistress. But before she could think further, she spotted Clara stepping into the front row, arm-in-arm with an elegant woman draped in expensive jewelry.

That woman was Bethany Marshal—Phoebe's mother-in-law.

"Clara, if you see something you like, just say the word. I'll buy it for you," Bethany said, holding Clara's hand with a motherly warmth Phoebe had never witnessed before.

"Mom, why are you so kind to Clara but always cold and sharp with Phoebe?" Nathan asked with a sigh. "Phoebe is your daughter-in-law, and she's carrying your grandchild. Can't you treat her better?"

"Because Clara doesn't stir up trouble and turn you against me like Phoebe does," Bethany snapped, her face darkening.

"Mom, I've told you many times, Phoebe never—" Nathan tried to explain, but Bethany had no patience to listen.

"Enough, Nathan," she cut him off. "We came here to shop and enjoy ourselves. Can't you stop mentioning Phoebe? It's killing the mood."

"Alright, alright. I won't bring her up," Nathan said, raising his hands in mock surrender. With a light smile, he added, "Today, I'm just here to serve Her Majesty and Her Royal Highness. I'll pay, I'll swipe my card, and I won't say another useless word."

The phrase "Her Royal Highness" pierced through Phoebe. Once, she believed she was the only princess in Nathan's heart. Even if he had betrayed her now, at least the love he once gave her had felt irreplaceable.

But it was never irreplaceable. Anyone could be his princess.

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. Without a word, she turned to leave.

At that moment, Nathan saw her.

"Phoebe? What are you doing here?" His face turned pale, and his eyes darted toward Clara, betraying his discomfort. "When... when did you get here?"

Phoebe met his gaze calmly. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Didn't you say you had urgent work at the office?"

"Nathan came to meet a client here. What's the problem?" Bethany interjected, her tone sharp and impatient. "You're pregnant. Stop being so suspicious and focus on taking care of the baby."

"Mom, stop blaming Phoebe," Nathan said, trying to soothe her. "If she doesn't feel secure, it's because I haven't done my job as a husband. If I'd given her enough reassurance, she wouldn't need to be suspicious."

As he spoke, he gently cradled Phoebe's hand and placed it over his heart. "Phoebe, I really did come here for business. The client is upstairs. If you don't believe me, I'll take you to meet him."

His eyes held hers, deep and unwavering. "When we married, I promised to love and cherish you forever. I swore I'd never lie to you, and I meant it. I will never break that promise."

Phoebe wondered how he did it—standing there in front of his mother, his wife, and their unborn child, speaking such bold-faced lies without a trace of guilt. Wasn't he afraid of the consequences?

"Then who is she?" Phoebe asked, turning her eyes toward Clara.

"She's Nathan's cousin," Bethany said smoothly. "Her family moved abroad years ago, so you wouldn't know her." With a sudden smile, she added, "By the way, Nathan, Clara just returned from abroad and doesn't have a place to stay. Why not let her live at your place for a while?"

She paused deliberately, then turned to Phoebe with a saccharine smile. "Phoebe, you don't mind, do you?"