Isabella lowered her head and saw blood flowing beneath her.

Her stomach had been twisting in waves these past few days. She had thought hunger had damaged her body.

So this was her baby saying goodbye.

"Isabella."

Daniel instinctively moved to rush over, but Emily clung hard to his arm.

"Daniel. I'm the wife you're going to register your marriage with. Isabella is just the toy you keep outside. If you protect that bastard child today, what happens to our children in the future? Do you want them to repeat your old path and be tormented to death by illegitimate children?"

The words illegitimate child pierced Daniel's weakest nerve like poisoned needles.

Daniel closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were utterly indifferent.

"She sold blood for more than a year to pay my medical bills. Her body is badly depleted. Find a good doctor. Prescribe a mild abortion medicine. Don't damage her body."

His gentle tone left Isabella dazed.

Two years ago, Daniel had been framed by his father's illegitimate son, had his legs broken, and was thrown out of the Lawson family.

She was the one who picked him up.

During that time, his trauma response was severe.

Whenever she went out, he grew anxious, afraid she would abandon him.

Every night when she returned, she would see him dragging his injured legs around clumsily to make late-night food and please her.

His voice had been so tender it made her heart soften at once.

She spent two years helping him recover, walking him out of the shadows.

Now his voice was still gentle, but he was ordering servants to prepare abortion medicine for her.

Her consciousness sank.

When she woke again, her head was wrapped like a mummy. Even the lightest touch brought bone-deep pain.

Just then, her phone chimed. An encrypted message came in.

"Isabella, the family conflict will be settled in seven days. Get ready. We'll bring you home then."

She gripped the phone and stared at those words again and again.

Seven days. She only had to survive seven more days, and she could go home.

"Ms. Sullivan, Mr. Lawson is waiting downstairs."

The servant gave the notice and turned to leave, with no intention of helping Isabella up.

She could only brace herself and sit up on her own.

Such a tiny movement sent a sharp cramp through her abdomen, and waves of warm blood poured out of her body.

In that moment, she knew her child had left her completely.

Tears slid down and vanished into the cold floor.

Isabella bit her lip hard, refusing to let herself cry out loud.

Only after the pain passed did she get up and go to the bathroom to clean herself.

When she reached the living room, she saw Daniel sitting on the sofa, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

It left Isabella momentarily dazed.

Half a year ago, Daniel's legs had regained sensation and he was undergoing rehabilitation.

To raise money for his treatment, she would go to an illegal clinic to donate blood after working at night.

No matter how late it was, Daniel would sit on the sofa and wait for her.

Later, he suddenly disappeared.

In the bitter winter, she handed out missing-person flyers on the street and ran to the police station every day.

Until she saw Daniel on the giant screen in the plaza, now the head of the Lawson family.

She was terrified.

The family conflict had not been settled, and her identity could not be revealed.

As a hair salon girl, how could she stand beside someone as dazzling as Daniel?

She was anxious and uncertain, losing five pounds from worry.

Just then, Daniel came to find her covered in injuries.

"Isabella, I told you I would love you for the rest of my life and give you a life of wealth and honor. I did it. Come home with me now, okay?"

All her questions and anger vanished the instant his bandaged hand closed around her wrist.

Only after arriving at the Lawson family did she learn that he had endured family punishment and confinement to be with her.

He had nearly died, all to be with her.

He loved her so much that he could give up his life for her.

So why had he cheated with his adopted sister, who had just returned from overseas, in less than a month?

"The etiquette teacher is here. Do some intensive training. I don't expect you to master everything. Just don't make a joke of yourself at the wedding."

Daniel's cold voice sounded, and only then did Isabella realize there were two other people in the living room.

One was an elegant woman in a professional suit, and the other was Emily.

Isabella did not want anyone to see her disgrace. She quickly lowered her head and let her tears roll into the bandages.

"All right."

As for elite etiquette, she had graduated with perfect marks before she was ten, and by her teens she had been a model socialite in Portwell.

But what did that matter?

Twenty-eight years of upbringing and refinement.

In the end, for one man, she had reduced herself to a salon girl.

For the sake of saving a few cents, she had argued until her face turned red in the market.

She smiled bitterly and walked to the spot the etiquette teacher indicated.

Seeing Isabella so obedient, Daniel quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

For the past three months, Isabella's scenes had been too ugly.

Catching him cheating, smashing things, screaming hysterically like a madwoman without reason.

She had turned him into a joke among the upper circles and made him lose all face.

He stood and walked out. As if remembering something, he suddenly turned back to look at Isabella.

"You said you wanted the wedding decorated with 9, 999 Juliet roses. I had them air-shipped from Belleterre. I'm going to set up the sea of flowers now. You and Emily stay home properly. Don't make trouble."

At the words Juliet roses, an indescribable sorrow spread through Isabella.

Juliet roses meant a love that protected.

The day she gave herself to Daniel, she had lain against him and said, "Daniel, when we get married, I really want a sea of 9, 999 Juliet roses."

Back then, she had wanted them to stay together forever and never part.

But she knew one rare Juliet rose cost over a million dollars.

A poor boy like Daniel could never afford it.

So she had thought that once her identity was public, she would give Daniel that wedding herself.

She would become his family and love him for life.

Now that wedding was about to come true.

But she had become Daniel's toy, not even worthy of being called his mistress.

Her lips moved. She wanted to say something, but no words would come.

She could only watch Daniel's back disappear through the door as her eyes slowly stung.

Seeing her like this, Emily gave a cold snort and turned to the etiquette teacher.

"Put her in a posture brace. Straighten that back she uses to serve men. Otherwise she'll stand like trash and walk around looking like she's waiting for someone to take her to bed."

Isabella clenched her fists.

She wanted so badly to rush forward and smash that smug face into the floor.

But when she remembered the seven days and nights in the basement, the abortion medicine, and the hair scattered across the floor, she loosened her fists and let the etiquette teacher strap the brace onto her body.

The belts were pulled painfully tight. The wooden rods dug into her spine and arms, and every breath brought a cutting ache.

Emily walked up to her. After admiring her for two seconds as if looking at a dead object, she lowered her voice.

"Bitch, Daniel is mine. If you fight me again, next time it won't be as simple as confinement and shaving your head."

Isabella's gaze rested on the empty space ahead. Her pupils were unfocused, as if her soul had already left this body.

"I don't want him anymore. Let me go. You can be the bride."

The moment the words left her mouth, her eyes stung.

A month ago, she had still thought she would never let go of Daniel's hand in this life.

But now, she had said it herself—she no longer wanted him.

In that instant, she found it all unbearably absurd.

She had spent two years dragging Daniel back from death, turning him into a part of herself.

In the end, she did not even know when she had reached this point.

Had it begun when he shook off her hand at the proposal?

Or when he said the wedding would be hers, but the marriage certificate would be Emily's?

Or even earlier?

As early as the first time she saw him smiling at Emily through a restaurant window, had she already begun losing him?

The echo of her own words hummed inside her chest, shaking her whole body.

Emily, however, seemed to have heard the funniest joke in the world and laughed aloud.

"I was always Daniel's wife. Who needs you to give me anything?"

She took a step back, her eyes full of contempt.

"Don't tell me you think he keeps you because he loves you. Stop being naive. He keeps you because you're obedient enough, tolerant enough, so tolerant you don't make a sound even after your child was aborted. You're just a shield."

The word shield sawed back and forth across Isabella's heart like a dull blade.

She remembered the period right after Daniel returned to the Lawson family, when she could not sleep at night.

She had been afraid he would vanish again, afraid everything was a dream, afraid she would open her eyes and find herself back in that room without him.

He had noticed, held her, and said, "Isabella, don't be afraid. I'm here. I will never leave you again."

Leaning in his arms, she had thought he was still the same Daniel. He had not changed.

But now she knew.

He had changed.

Or more accurately, he had never changed at all.

He had only acted out the Daniel she wanted in front of her.

The real him could watch coldly as someone shaved her head clean.

The real him could order someone to brew abortion medicine for her in a voice as gentle as if he were saying good night.

From beginning to end, he had only been using her.

She had been too naive, mistaking the performance for truth and even dreaming of spending her whole life with him.

Without waiting for Isabella to answer, Emily said to the etiquette teacher, "Put a bowl on her head. Let her practice some grace. Otherwise, at tomorrow's wedding, people will think the Lawson family lets just anyone walk in."

The etiquette teacher brought a bowl of water and placed it on Isabella's head.

The bowl was not large, but with the weight of the brace, her whole body's center of gravity dragged downward.

Isabella bit her lower lip and walked forward one step at a time.

She could not tell whether tears had run into her mouth or whether she had bitten her lip until it bled.

She could not tell anymore.

She could not tell anything anymore.

She only knew that she hated Daniel, hated Emily, but most of all, hated herself.

She hated herself for throwing away her dignity for a man, for becoming a puddle of mud anyone could trample.

Emily stood to the side, her face darkening little by little.

She had brought in the etiquette teacher to humiliate Isabella, to make Daniel see how crude Isabella was.

But Isabella walked too steadily, so steadily she looked as if she had been born to stand above others and be admired.

Emily's eyes darkened. As Isabella passed her, she lightly hooked out a foot.

Isabella pitched forward. The porcelain bowl flew out and shattered on the floor.

Her palm landed without warning on the shards, and blood surged out at once.

Before she could recover from the pain, she heard Emily choke out, "Isabella, why did you push me?"

As soon as Emily finished, Daniel's voice sounded from the doorway.

"What are you doing?"