On the day I lost our child, my husband made me sing opera—for his mistress's birthday.

John Weiss lounged on the sofa, one hand resting on Faith Harding's pregnant belly. He fastened a diamond necklace around her throat, the stones blazing under the light.

"Faith's become particular since the pregnancy," he said flatly. "You studied under the Mei school. Make yourself useful."

Faith glanced at me with barely concealed triumph, her voice dripping false modesty. "But Michelle used to be such a star. Having her perform for my baby seems like a waste. Maybe we shouldn't."

"She's being gracious," John cut in. "Don't spoil it."

My nails bit into my palms until the skin split. I kept my voice even. "I'll sing."

I delivered the aria flawlessly, each note scraping my throat like broken glass. The moment the last phrase died, I turned and climbed the stairs to my mother-in-law's quarters.

She was expecting me.

"Three years are up," I said. "I want a divorce."

——

When I first discovered John's affairs, I'd tried to leave. But my father's company was drowning, and I had nothing—no leverage, no money, no options. I went to her on my knees.

She rescued the business. The price was three more years as the perfect Mrs. Weiss.

Today, that debt was paid.

She settled into her chair with a sigh. "Three years, Michelle. Haven't you reconsidered? This life—most people would kill for it."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "It's not the life I want."

I had abandoned everything—my career, my city—to follow John to Harbor City. I had loved him. But that man was gone. The stranger downstairs had taken his place.

She turned away, disappointment settling over her features. "If that's your choice, then go."

I stepped into the hallway. A violent crash rang out from the master bedroom below.

My pulse spiked. I rushed downstairs and found my White Magnolia Award shattered across the floor—reduced to glittering debris.

John knelt among the shards. But he wasn't mourning my trophy. He was cradling Faith's hand, examining a tiny scratch on her finger with frantic concern.

I froze in the doorway. The scene blurred, merging with this morning's nightmare.

I had collapsed in the café. Agony had torn through my abdomen as blood soaked my dress. I'd gripped John's sleeve, told him I was pregnant, begged him to get me to a hospital.

He'd sneered. Called it a performance. Pulled Faith close to shield her from my "drama" and walked out without a backward glance.

By the time the staff got me to the ER, it was too late. Ten minutes, the doctor said. Ten minutes earlier, and my child would have survived.

Now Faith looked up at me, eyes glistening with rehearsed innocence.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I just wanted to see your trophy up close. I didn't mean to knock it over."

John drew her against his chest. "Don't apologize. You're the one who's hurt."

Then his gaze found me, and the tenderness vanished. "Why was something that fragile left out in the open? It's a hazard."

I stared at him.

Seven years ago, he'd scrapped a hundred-million-dollar deal and chartered a helicopter from Harbor City to Riverdale—just to watch me accept that award. After we married, he'd placed it on the mantle himself.

Your pride is my greatest pride, he'd told me then.

Now it was just broken glass.

When I stayed silent, irritation flickered across his face. "Never mind. There's something you need to know."

He rose, his shadow falling over me. "Faith needs proper rest during her pregnancy. She'll be taking the master bedroom. Pack your things. You can move back after the baby comes."

The cruelty of it punched the air from my lungs. He was giving my bed to the woman who'd mocked me while I bled.

"Fine," I said.

John went still. He blinked, thrown by my compliance. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

I didn't wait. I walked out of the house and dialed the number I'd memorized years ago.

"Mr. Simmons." My voice was steady at last. "Draw up the divorce papers."

The sigh on the other end of the line was heavy with regret. "Have you really thought this through? After all, you once gave up everything..."

I did.

Despite my parents' fierce opposition—even at the cost of severing ties with them—I had abandoned my career at its absolute zenith to marry into Harbor City.

Back then, John was a different man. To court me, he'd commuted between cities by helicopter every single day for three years. When the Weiss family disapproved, he stripped himself of his title as heir and followed me to Riverdale. Ignoring the ridicule of his peers, he worked construction, hauling steel pipes until his shoulders were raw, just to save enough for a diamond ring.

Even when I rejected his proposal and tried to break things off, he stood outside my apartment building for a year. Rain or shine, he waited—just to catch a single glimpse of me.

When I finally agreed to marry him and move to Harbor City, he bought a billion-dollar estate so I'd feel secure. When the tabloids branded me a gold digger, John stood before the cameras and declared to the world, "I was the one who begged her to marry me."

After the wedding, he treated me like royalty. I thought he was different. I thought happiness would last forever.

The illusion shattered on our fourth anniversary.

I'd spent days preparing Buddha Jumps Over the Wall—his favorite—and brought it to his office as a surprise. Instead of celebration, I walked in to find him and his secretary naked, entwined, kissing on the couch.

Something inside me snapped. I smashed everything in the office, screaming, demanding to know why.

He didn't flinch. He simply held the secretary behind him, watching me unravel with cold detachment. When I was too exhausted to cry, he slid a ten-million-dollar emerald bracelet onto my wrist.

"Michelle, isn't this what wealthy families are like?" His voice was devoid of warmth. "I thought you understood the terms when you married me."

He looked down at me, eyes hard. "You've cut ties with your parents and abandoned your career. Other than staying by my side, where else can you go?"

"Wake up. Do your job as Mrs. Weiss. I'll compensate you properly."

After that, depression swallowed me whole. The world faded into silent gray.

His mistresses came and went; eventually, I lost count. The "apology gifts" piled up until they filled an entire room. I went from agonizing heartbreak to sleepless nights, until finally—numbness.

Just when I'd gathered the resolve to divorce him, disaster struck my father's company. My father, a proud man with a failing heart, regarded that business as his life. To save him, I accepted my mother-in-law's deal: three more years at John's side.

I'd endured those three years. I should have left the moment the contract expired.

But recently, on our seventh anniversary, I let my guard down. Under the influence of alcohol, I mistook the current John for the man who used to love me. That night resulted in a pregnancy—a child now gone, lost to his cruelty.

"I've thought it through," I said into the phone, voice steady.

I hung up just as Faith walked toward me, a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hands.

"Michelle, I'm sorry." Her voice dripped with faux sweetness. "I came to apologize."

John had many mistresses, but few were like Faith. She wasn't just passing through—she wanted the crown.

I looked at her affected expression, fighting the urge to retch. "Save your acting. You don't need to waste energy scheming against me anymore. John and I are getting a divorce."

Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "That's not what I mean..."

John, who had followed her in, saw her tears and his expression darkened. He snatched the teacup from her hand, strode over, and gripped my jaw, forcing my head back.

I stared at the steam rising from the cup, panic seizing my chest.

"No..." My voice trembled as I clawed at his hand. "John, I've trained since I was six. My voice is my life! Please—"

He didn't let me finish.

"Michelle, Faith is pregnant." He tipped the cup. "This is my first child."

Scalding liquid poured down my throat, burning everything in its path.

"I won't allow you to upset her. I won't tolerate any risks to them."

"This is the price you pay for making Faith suffer."

I stared into his eyes—eyes that were once my entire world, now sharp as blades. There wasn't a trace of the man who had once loved me.

I wanted to scream that I didn't do it. I wanted to demand a divorce right then and there.

But the tea Faith had tricked me into drinking had been scalding. Agony seared my throat, a relentless, stabbing fire that choked off my words.

Suddenly, Faith's face drained of color. She clutched her abdomen and crumbled to the floor.

"John... save our baby... it hurts..."

He didn't hesitate. Didn't even look at me. He scooped her up and rushed toward the car, his only focus on getting her to the hospital.

Pain radiated through my body, so intense I nearly blacked out. I stumbled after them, needing medical attention for my throat, hoping he would at least drive me to the emergency room.

But the engine roared to life. As the car sped away, the side mirror clipped me, sending me sprawling onto the pavement.

From beginning to end, John never glanced in the rearview mirror.

A laugh bubbled up in my chest, but when it tore from my throat, it came out as a grotesque, rasping croak. The sound was alien. Broken.

Seven years of marriage. The love I had sacrificed my career, my family, my dignity for. What a magnificent joke.

Fighting waves of dizziness, I hailed a taxi and dragged myself to the hospital alone.

The examination was a death sentence.

The doctor explained that a simple scald could have healed. But the tea had been laced with toxins. My vocal cords were chemically burned. They would never recover.

My voice—the voice that had won the Magnolia Drama Award, the voice of a generation—was gone.

My legs gave out. I slid to the cold hospital floor. Tears fell in heavy, silent drops.

Just then, my phone buzzed. The manager from the café.

"Ms. Chapman? We reviewed the surveillance footage. The water on the floor that caused you to fall... the lady sitting across from you splashed it deliberately."

My grip on the phone tightened.

That morning, Faith had threatened me. She said if I didn't meet her, she would send a sex tape of her and John to my father. My father, who suffered from severe heart disease.

I thought it was just a meeting. I thought I could handle her.

When I slipped and fell earlier, I suspected she had a hand in it. But this? This wasn't a prank. This was attempted murder.

My chest heaved violently, air rasping through my ruined throat.

I found out she was admitted to the second floor of the same hospital. Clutching the printed divorce agreement, fueled by a rage that burned hotter than the poison, I stormed toward her room.

I reached the doorway, ready to throw the truth in their faces.

Slap!

Before I could take a step inside, a heavy hand struck my face. The force whipped my head to the side, stinging tears springing to my eyes.

John stood there, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot and terrifying. His lips trembled with fury.

"Michelle, if you can't tolerate Faith, fine. But why did you have to harm the child?" He loomed over me, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Do you know you nearly caused a miscarriage? You drugged her!"

He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. "We've been married seven years, and you never gave me a child. She's carrying my firstborn, and you can't even tolerate that?"

The sheer audacity left me paralyzed.

I shoved the divorce papers against his chest. Since I couldn't speak, I pulled out my phone and typed furiously, fingers trembling.

Are you blind? I never touched her! What does her child have to do with me?

She killed my child!

She destroyed my throat!

He slapped me again. Harder. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

"Stop making excuses! You called her to the café. She drank the water you gave her. Are you suggesting she tried to kill her own baby?"

From the bed, Faith let out a weak, hiccupping sob. She looked fragile, the picture of innocence.

"John... don't blame Michelle." She wept softly. "She did it because she loves you. She's just jealous. I'm the one who upset her. If hurting me makes her feel better, I'll bear it. I don't want to come between you two."

As the last word left her lips, she went limp. Unconscious.

"Faith!" John rushed to her side, pressing the call button like a madman.

Only after the doctor confirmed she was stable did he turn back to me. His expression was cold. Devoid of any humanity. He signaled his bodyguards.

"Hold her down."

He pointed to the floor beside Faith's bed.

"Kneel. You aren't leaving this room until she wakes up and you beg for her forgiveness."