Upon returning home, I found Reece in the kitchen, crafting a mango cake for Erica. He'd never ventured into culinary endeavors before, let alone baking.

"Erica had a craving for mango cake," he explained. "I didn't want the baby to go hungry, so I decided to make one. Would you like a taste?"

"Reece is the best to my baby," Erica chimed in, her smile smug. "He said you could find your way back; he wanted to make the cake himself, didn't trust anyone else to do it right."

I ignored them and ascended the stairs. Reece had forgotten my allergy to mangoes.

The next morning, Erica barged into my room, her pregnant belly leading the way.

"When are you moving out? You're divorcing Reece anyway. Staying here, watching him care for me—doesn't it hurt?"

I tried to rise, but dizziness overtook me. My breathing quickened, and a fever flushed my face.

"You should be sensible. You've miscarried and can't give Reece a child. You're unnecessary here."

Erica had taken my children, and now she sought to erase me entirely. Reece always excused her behavior, indulging her whims without question. I was just an outsider now.

"Lucy, what's wrong?" Reece appeared, concern in his eyes. He reached out, but Erica feigned a faint, collapsing into his arms.

"Call a doctor!" he shouted, cradling her, not sparing me another glance.

The housekeeper said, "Please wait a moment, Ms. Malcolm. Have some water. The doctor is coming."

I drifted into unconsciousness. The promised doctor never arrived.

By evening, I awoke and checked my phone. Reece, once averse to social media, had posted a photo: Erica, radiant with a wine glass, surrounded by his friends on a countryside retreat.

When I was pregnant, Reece claimed I was too cumbersome, too picky, a damper on any outing. I stayed home alone. Now, he paraded Erica, pregnant, before his circle.

I had been feverish for a day and night, too weak to move. The housekeeper found me unconscious and rushed me to the hospital, then called Reece.

"Didn't I say not to disturb me unless it's urgent?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's Madam... she's unconscious, burning with fever."

Reece's tone shifted instantly. "What? Lucy? She's in critical condition?"

He dropped everything and instructed the driver, "To the hospital, now. As fast as possible."