I was three months pregnant when the car crash happened.

In those final moments of fading consciousness, I frantically dialed Damian’s private, encrypted line—the one meant only for emergencies.

He never picked up.

By the time I was rushed into surgery, I received a crushing blow: Damian had forcibly reassigned my lead private physician to the South District. He needed the best doctor to treat his childhood sweetheart, Evelyn, who had just been widowed.

When I finally drifted awake through a haze of agony, my trembling fingers swiped open Instagram. I saw Evelyn’s latest post:

“I knew that no matter the distance or the time, Damian would move heaven and earth to reach me. He even brought his Chief Physician just to help me heal from my grief.”

In the accompanying photo, Damian—a man known for his cold, lethal eyes—was gazing at the woman beside him with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years.

While I was clawing my way back from the brink of death, fighting to save our child, my husband was playing protector to another pregnant woman.

A hollow, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Without a second thought, I slid the wedding band off my ring finger. I opened my inbox and hit "Confirm" on the invitation from the world’s most elite International Finance Institute.

If Evelyn is all he cares about, I’ll give them my blessing.

In seven days, I will vanish from his world forever—and I’m taking my baby with me.

Damian finally returned to the estate shortly after I sent my confirmation email.

I was sitting on the sofa when he walked in. The moment his sharp eyes landed on me, they frosted over with suppressed rage.

"Selena," he began, his voice tight. "Are you satisfied now?"

"I just received a summons from the Commission."

"They’re claiming that as the Moretti heir, I misappropriated family medical resources, leading to a shortage. Even the Don gave me a dressing down. In this entire family, who else would be petty enough to snitch on me but you?"

He strode over, looming over me like a shadow, his face twisted with disgust.

"Evelyn just lost her husband. She’s pregnant and vulnerable. You’ve never been a mother, Selena; you have no idea how hard it is for her. Stop acting out. Be sensible for once, okay?"

The corners of my mouth quirked into a ghost of a smile, though my chest felt like it was being hollowed out.

Evelyn lost a husband, so he became her guardian.

And me? I nearly lost our child, yet I was merely a "nuisance."

"I’m sorry. It was my fault," I replied tonelessly.

Damian froze.

He had clearly prepared for a screaming match—he was ready for the accusations and the tears. My sudden composure left him visibly unsettled, flickering between irritation and unease.

He exhaled a long sigh, attempting a pivot toward reconciliation.

"As long as you understand. Here—I picked this out specifically for you. Top-tier silk. You’ll love it."

He handed me a pink silk scarf from a high-end luxury brand.

My eyes burned.

Only half an hour ago, I had seen that very scarf on Evelyn’s feed. It was crumpled in a corner in the background of her photo.

Her caption read: “Damian keeps stuffing these dated rags down my throat. So tacky—I wouldn’t even give this to a beggar to use as a muffler!”

Meanwhile, Evelyn was wearing the custom ruby ring Damian had promised me for my birthday—a symbol of his gratitude for my ten years of devotion.

He had once told me, "This ruby represents my truest heart. Only the woman I love most is worthy of it."

Now, he was offering me Evelyn’s discarded trash as a "gift," while giving my promise to someone else.

"What is it? You don't like it?" he asked, frowning at my silence.

I folded the scarf neatly. "I love it," I lied, flashing a practiced, elegant smile.

He looked relieved. As he turned toward his study, he asked over his shoulder, "By the way, you were calling me like a maniac the other day. What was that about?"

I buried the cold deadness in my eyes. "Nothing. I just wanted to know if you were coming home for dinner."

The moment the door clicked shut, my phone rang. It was Professor Clark.

"Selena, I received your confirmation. You realize that once you join the Lausanne Institute, there’s no turning back. Are you certain?"

"I've never been more sure."

Professor Clark sounded delighted. "Excellent. I’ll have a team pick you up in seven days."

The moment I hung up, the surgical wound on my back flared with a white-hot intensity.

I curled into a ball on the sofa, cold sweat drenching my clothes. Outside, the world was ending; thunder rattled the windows and lightning tore through the sky. Damian emerged from his study, phone in hand, looking hurried.

"Damian... I'm so scared," a woman’s voice whimpered through the speaker. In the quiet living room, her feigned sob was crystal clear.

"The thunder is so loud... the baby is kicking... I’m scared I can’t protect him. Please, can you come over?"

"Damian." My fingers dug into the leather of the sofa until my nails nearly drew blood. "Don’t go."

He paused, looking back at me with blatant impatience. "Selena, I told you, Evelyn’s situation is delicate."

"I don't feel well either," I whispered, my voice trembling as sweat beaded on my forehead.

"Can’t you stay? Just long enough to call a doctor for me?"

The crash had left me physically shattered. The sudden drop in pressure from the storm made the pain unbearable. I felt like I was drowning in a frozen sea, and he was the only life raft in sight.

Damian wavered for a second.

"Does Selena want to take the Chief Physician away again? Just like last time?" Evelyn’s pouting voice came through the phone.

Damian’s expression instantly turned to stone.

He stepped toward me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up. His voice was laced with mockery. "The other day you went crying to the Commission because I moved the doctor, getting me a lecture from the Don. Now that Evelyn actually needs help, you’re staging a stomach ache."

"Selena, your jealousy has made you hideous."

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat.

He couldn't see how pale I was. His entire world was centered on a woman who was "scared of thunder."

"I’m not acting, Damian. I’m really—"

"Enough!" he snapped, shoving me back. "Evelyn just lost her husband. I’m all she has left. Can’t you learn to be a little more graceful instead of resorting to these petty tricks?"

"I’m staying out tonight. Don't wait up."

He left without looking back. As the heavy front door slammed shut, my heart shattered into the abyss.

He didn't know about the accident. He didn't know that to save our baby, I had endured a gash on my back so deep it showed bone—or that I had undergone the stitching without general anesthesia to protect the pregnancy.

And now, he was rushing to comfort another woman carrying another man's child.

I touched my belly, tears falling silently onto the floor.

Damian used to stroke my stomach with such tenderness. "Selena, when will you carry my heir? If it’s a boy, I’ll teach him to rule the family. If it’s a girl, I’ll give her every beautiful jewel in this city."

I had planned to give him the news of my pregnancy as a birthday surprise.

Now, I only wanted to take my child and leave.

The storm raged on. I picked up my phone; the screen lit up with a notification from a "Special Favorite" on Instagram.

It was Evelyn.

The photo showed a luxurious bedroom. A man was half-kneeling by the bed, his back to the camera, holding a steaming cup of milk.

Even from behind, I knew that silhouette better than my own.

The caption was a taunt wrapped in a brag:

"I told him I was scared of the storm, so he rushed over to comfort me and even warmed my milk himself. Such a good boy."

Good boy.

Those two words were a blade that twisted in my chest.

When I had practically begged him to stay after my "accident," he saw me as a burden. Yet, at a single mention of thunder from Evelyn, he abandoned everything to play the role of her "loyal dog."

The next day, when Damian returned to the estate draped in the morning chill, he was met with my hollow, expressionless face.

Sensing a shift, he tried to act casual, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Selena, I told you not to wait up."

He reached out for an embrace, but I subtly stepped aside.

The deadness in my eyes seemed to unnerve him. Even though I was standing right in front of him, he felt a sudden, inexplicable distance—as if I were already fading away.

"Selena, I know I’ve been preoccupied lately," he said, a rare note of guilt in his voice.

"The day after tomorrow is your birthday. I promise I’ll cancel all Commission meetings. I’ll spend the whole day with you, okay?"

I forced a small, thin smile onto my porcelain-pale face. "Okay."

Damian let out a sigh of relief.

When my birthday arrived, he was unnervingly energetic, as if overcompensating for his absence. Throughout the drive, he talked incessantly about the family’s future expansion, trying to spark the "loyalty" I was supposed to feel as a Moretti.

He took me to an exclusive restaurant.

But just as the main course was served, his phone buzzed violently.

He glanced at the screen, and his brow furrowed. That fleeting warmth in his eyes was instantly replaced by sharp, frantic anxiety.

"Selena, I have to take this. It's an emergency family signal."

I nodded silently, a cold dread settling in my gut.

Sure enough, Damian returned a moment later, his face a mask of practiced regret.

"I am so sorry, Selena... something happened with Evelyn. I have to go check on her..."

"Okay," I said, cutting off his list of excuses before he could even start.

Damian blinked, his apologies catching in his throat. He looked almost foolish.

"Family security comes first," I said tonelessly. "As the heir, it's your duty to protect our people. I understand."

A look of immense relief washed over him.

He hurried out the door, a draft of cold air trailing behind him.

"Selena, don't worry! When I get back, I’ll throw you a celebration that will be the envy of the whole city!" his voice called out as his tires screeched against the gravel.

There won't be a next time, Damian.

I sat alone, slowly cutting into the cake that symbolized my birth.

I was an orphan who lost both parents. In the Mafia world where bloodline is everything, I had been the lowest of the low—no name, no pedigree. Even the beggars looked down on me.

The first bit of warmth I ever felt was from a teenage Damian.

Back then, he had smiled and said, "You poor little thing, why are you crying in an alley on Christmas Eve?"

"Now that you’ve found me, you’ll never be alone again. Every Christmas, every birthday—I’ll be right by your side."

From that moment, I gave him my heart, my soul, and my absolute loyalty. I saw him as my only salvation from the dark.

But in the end, he chose Evelyn. He left me behind.

A tear fell onto the expensive chocolate cake. I took a bite. It was bitter, salty, and not sweet at all.

You lied to me, Damian. In the end, I'm still alone.