On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list.

Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock.

Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer.

After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive.

For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant.

Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child.

But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Connor's expression didn't waver.

"This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually."

I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably.

That night, I made an appointment for an abortion.

When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."

"You love Lindsey so much—why didn't you just marry her in the first place?"

Connor Presley's friend took a slow sip of his drink, his face full of confusion.

Pain flickered across Connor's expression.

"Because she loves Scott," he said. "I rushed into marrying Rachel only because I didn't want my presence to stand in the way of their happiness. True love isn't about possession—it's about letting go."

His friend let out a dry laugh, a trace of mockery in his tone.

"Just don't come to regret it."

Connor downed his glass in one swallow.

"Regret? Never. For Lindsey, I'd do anything."

I swallowed my tears and left before I broke down completely.

Back home, I filled the bathtub with icy water and lowered myself into it, forcing the cold to numb the pain clawing through me. The chill cut deep, but it was nothing compared to the agony burning in my heart.

I bit down hard on my lip, tears spilling unchecked. No matter how I cried, how I tried to purge the humiliation and heartbreak, I couldn't wash away the memories of what we once shared.

Three years ago, after that scandalous wedding disaster, I had become the world's favorite joke.

To outsiders, I was a shallow, gold-digging actress desperate to marry into wealth and power.

To them, this ending was nothing more than poetic justice.

When I was utterly alone—when the world turned its back—it was Connor who stood beside me, shielding me from the storm of ridicule.

When he slipped that ring onto my finger, his gaze had been filled with warmth and conviction. After I became pregnant, his care bordered on worship—he wouldn't even let me trim my own nails.

And now, I realized it had all been a performance. A grand illusion staged for Lindsey Remmington's sake.

How laughable.

I didn't know when I'd finally drifted to sleep, tears drying on my cheeks. When I woke again, I was lying in bed, feverish and weak.

Connor hovered over me, his face tight with worry.

"Rachel, you're a mother now. How could you be so careless? You're sick. What if something happens to the baby?"

Once, I would've mistaken that for genuine concern. Now, I knew—he wasn't worried about me. He was worried about their child.

A bitter smile curved my lips. I said nothing.

For years, I'd used my fame to promote his company, boosting its image again and again. I'd introduced him to investors, helping him remain the title of "Elluel City's richest".

I looked down at my scarred, weary body and felt an ache so deep it hollowed me out. I had given everything to this marriage—my love, my body, my career—only to realize I'd been nothing but a vessel for someone else's dream.

A marriage so polished on the surface, yet rotten with deceit and betrayal beneath—why should I keep it?

And this baby, tainted by its parents' betrayal and lies, had no place in my world.

"I must've fallen asleep in the tub," I said. "Filming's been exhausting lately."

That night, I told him I needed quiet for the baby and moved into another room.

Once the door was closed, I called my best friend—a lawyer—and asked her to draft a divorce agreement and finalize the division of assets.

The Presley family had been barely holding onto their fortune for years alone. Their title of "Elluel City's richest" was just a crumbling facade.

Once I took back what was mine, I wanted to see just how long he could keep up his charade.

Early the next morning, I quietly began packing my things.

The door suddenly swung open. Connor walked in with Lindsey. Their intimacy was impossible to ignore.

The moment he saw me, Connor instinctively stepped back from her, his expression flustered.

"Rachel, shouldn't you still be sleeping? Why are you up so early?" he stammered. "Uh… Lindsey came to visit you. We ran into each other outside, so I brought her in."

I suppressed the mocking curve of my lips and gave a faint nod.

Lindsey's gaze soon landed on the jewelry spread across the table. A flicker of jealousy flashed through her eyes. Tugging at Connor's sleeve, she pouted sweetly, "Connor, isn't that the Heart of the Ocean? The one worth millions? I've always wanted it! Can you ask Rachel to lend it to me for a few days?"

Connor brushed his hand over her hair with indulgent affection, then turned to me. His fingers pinched my cheek lightly as he said, "Rachel, let Lindsey have it. As her sister, you should be a little generous. You have so much jewelry anyway—one less piece won't hurt. If you want something new, I'll buy it for you."

His voice carried the same gentle tone he always used—the kind that wrapped cruelty in tenderness. Each soft-spoken word stripped away something that belonged to me and placed it into Lindsey's hands.

A deep ache welled up inside me, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

I ran my fingers slowly across the array of glittering jewels until they came to rest on the Heart of the Ocean. I looked up at Lindsey.

"You like it?" My voice was calm. "Then you can't have it."

"Rachel! You're mocking me!"

Used to always having Connor and our family shield her, Lindsey's face twisted with fury. She lunged toward me, trying to snatch the necklace, but I shoved her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor.

She opened her mouth, tears brimming, clearly ready to play the victim again and ignite Connor's anger. But before she could, I pressed a hand to my stomach and let a few tears fall.

"It hurts… my stomach hurts…"

The color drained from Connor's face. Panic replaced his earlier gentleness. Without a glance back at Lindsey's cries, he scooped me into his arms and rushed for the car.

For the first time, he ignored Lindsey—but only because of the child inside me… the child that wasn't truly mine.

As we drove, his phone buzzed over and over. When our eyes met, he stammered, "The company's been… busy lately. It's probably just work calling again."

I lowered my gaze, the pain in my chest sharper than any physical ache.

Work? No—it was Lindsey, sulking because he'd left her behind.

When I looked up again, my face was composed.

"Darling, if you're busy, you should go. My stomach doesn't hurt that much anymore. I can go to the hospital myself."

"Really?"

"Of course. Don't worry, it's fine."

He pulled the car to the curb and leaned close, pressing his face against my belly. His hands lingered there, reluctant to leave.

"Baby," he murmured, "Daddy has to work now. I'll come see you later."

Then he lifted his head, kissed me tenderly on the lips, and whispered, "Rachel, you're so understanding. I'm so lucky to have you."

I watched his figure disappear down the street, then walked to a nearby café and opened the live feed from the home security cameras.

I had guessed right. The moment he returned, he pulled Lindsey into his arms.

Lindsey turned her tear-streaked face away, her voice trembling with hurt.

"You used to give me everything Rachel owned. Now she says she's in pain, and you just leave me behind. Don't tell me you've actually fallen for her!"

Connor shook his head in panic.

"I swear, I haven't. You'll always be the only woman I love. I was worried—just worried about our baby. She had meant to give the necklace to the baby anyway. Since it's for the baby, it'll go to you eventually."

Then he crushed his lips against hers, murmuring between kisses, "Don't be angry, sweetheart. Let's go shopping right now. Whatever you want, I'll buy it all."

Lindsey's tears vanished, replaced by a satisfied smile. She laced her fingers through his and headed for the door.

At that exact moment, the doorbell rang.

When I saw who was there, my heart clenched tight.

The deliveryman—careless, oblivious—had brought the envelope my lawyer had sent, full of the evidence collected for my divorce case.

And he had handed it straight to Connor for signature.

My fingers tightened around my phone, my pulse thundering in my ears.

Then, just as panic began to rise, the deliveryman's phone rang—it was my best friend.

She firmly reminded him that the package contained private materials and must be signed for by me personally. The courier immediately withdrew the delivery and called to confirm my new address.

I exhaled a long, shaky breath of relief.

That night, when I returned home, Connor rushed over the moment he saw me, his face lined with worry.

"How's the baby?" he asked anxiously.

His nervous expression pierced straight through me. Wordlessly, I handed him the medical report.

When he saw the words "normal", the tension melted from his face. He sat beside me, reaching for my hand.

"Darling, are you sure you're not mad at me?"

I caught the tentative note in his voice and gave a gentle shake of my head.

"Of course not. You're just working hard to give me and our baby a better life. I understand."

Relief washed over him. He pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"Thank you, baby. I swear, nothing like this will ever happen again."

Then, as if remembering something, he asked casually, "Oh, by the way, what was in that mysterious package today? Why couldn't I sign for it, even as your husband?"

My heart nearly stopped, but I forced a calm smile and summoned every ounce of acting skill I had.

"It's a film script from the production company. The project's confidential, so it's private by contract."

He nodded, fully convinced, and the last trace of suspicion faded from his eyes.

Leaning in, he kissed my forehead.

"Darling, your birthday's coming up. I've prepared a surprise for you," he said with a smile. "I promise—it'll be a birthday you'll never forget."

I nodded, keeping my expression soft and trusting. Just a few more days. I could keep pretending that long. If nothing else, I wanted to give our doomed love story a fitting final scene.

When my birthday arrived, the venue was filled with lilies and balloons—romantic and delicate.

Only, Connor had forgotten one small detail: my favorite flowers were vibrant red roses. Lilies were Lindsey's favorite.

My silence must have given me away, because realization dawned across his face.

"Sorry, Rachel," he murmured, guilt creeping into his tone. "I must've mixed it up."

I steadied my emotions, forcing a faint smile.

"It's fine."

The moment my calm expression registered, the remorse vanished from his eyes.

I brushed off his attempt to take my hand. "I'll go change," I said, slipping away.

But before I could reach the dressing room, Lindsey emerged—wearing my custom-made gown and the jeweled crown that was meant for me. She stood there, radiant and smug, like a queen basking in stolen glory.

The fury I'd been holding back finally ignited.

I strode toward her. "Who gave you permission to wear my things? Take them off. Now."

That gown and jewelry had been personally designed for me by a world-renowned designer—a private gift, crafted for my birthday. They meant something.

Lindsey pouted and ducked behind Connor, her tone soft and sugary.

"I just wanted to try it on, that's all. Rachel, you have so many beautiful dresses. I thought you wouldn't mind."

Her shamelessness made my blood boil.

"I do mind," I snapped. "Give them back."

Her lips trembled, and tears welled up as she whimpered, "Rachel, why are you so mean? I just wanted to try something pretty. I didn't mean any harm…"

I was done listening. I stepped forward and yanked the crown off her head.

Her eyes flickered with calculation. Then, all at once, she stumbled backward—deliberately knocking over the towering champagne display and collapsing to the floor in a cascade of broken glass and foam.

"Enough, Rachel! How could you treat your sister like this?"

Connor rushed to Lindsey's side, gathering her up with visible tenderness.

"Rachel, give the crown back to Lindsey and apologize to her!"

He stood before me, his tone commanding, his presence oppressive.

A bitter laugh escaped me as tears slipped down my cheeks.

"Today is my birthday. You got the decorations wrong, and now you expect me to give her my gown and crown too? Don't you think you've gone too far?"

Guilt flashed briefly in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I was wrong. I can apologize to you, but you should also apologize to Lindsey."

I met his gaze.

"She wore my clothes without permission. Why should I apologize?"

"Because you're her sister," someone snapped. "You should be the bigger person!"

And just then, I looked up to see my parents walking in arm in arm.