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.

Back then, my parents took pity on Lindsey for being an orphan, and they decided to adopt her.

She was sweeter, softer, and far better at playing coy than I ever was—and before long, she'd captured my parents' hearts completely.

At first, I was genuinely happy to have a little sister. I never imagined she'd turn around and accuse me, again and again, of bullying her.

Each time, I tried to explain. But whenever my parents saw Lindsey hiding behind them, eyes brimming with tears, they refused to believe a word I said.

Over time, they became convinced that I was the spoiled, temperamental one—and that Lindsey was the poor, innocent victim.

So they tried to make it up to her in every possible way.

Now, as they lovingly smoothed her dress and fussed over her hair, their affection for her was plain to see.

"If Lindsey likes it, why can't you let her have it?" my mother chided gently. "You already have so many jewels that your safe can't hold them all. Why fight your sister over one crown?"

Watching them stand protectively in front of Lindsey, it felt as if I were the outsider—an intruder in my own family.

My eyes burned as I fought to keep my voice steady, though the hurt bled through every word.

"When I was getting married, Lindsey got involved with Scott, and you asked me to give up my fiancé for her. Now you want me to give her the dress and crown my best friend had custom-made for me. Why? Just because I'm the older sister, I have to swallow every humiliation? Tell me, who's your real daughter?"

"You…"

My parents faltered, their mouths opening and closing, but no words came out.

That was when Connor stepped between us, his eyes dark with disappointment.

"Rachel, I didn't expect you to be so petty. Everyone came here to celebrate your birthday out of goodwill. Why did you have to ruin it for everyone?"

In that moment, my heart turned to ice.

These were the people I had loved most in the world, yet they had chosen the cruelest moment to drive a knife straight through me.

I gave a cold, brittle laugh and placed the crown in Connor's hand.

"Fine. She can have it."

His expression softened instantly.

"Rachel, I'm glad you've come around," he said, his tone gentler now. "You should go home and rest. Let Lindsey take your place at the birthday party. Don't worry, next year I'll throw you an even grander party."

"As long as you're all happy," I said softly.

I wiped away my tears, turned around, and walked out.

When I got home, I packed up every last one of my belongings, leaving behind only two things on the table: a divorce agreement and a medical certificate of abortion.

That night, Connor never came home.

The next morning, he called me over and over, his voice erupting with fury when I finally answered.

"Rachel, you've gone too far! How could you divorce me over something as trivial as last night's birthday party? You even got rid of my child! Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to that baby? How could you be so heartless? How can someone like you call herself a mother?"

I cut off his hysterical shouting and said calmly, "Connor, I understand Russian."