Emma kept her head down, refusing to make eye contact. "Isn't Sandra moving in? I'm just cleaning up my things, so she doesn't get upset when she sees them."

Wesley grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms. "Are you still mad at me?"

She muttered, "No."

He remarked, "You're a terrible liar, Emma."

He tilted her chin up, making her look him in the eyes. "How many times do I have to say it? It was all an act. If I really wanted to marry her, I would have made it happen years ago."

Emma looked into his eyes and suddenly laughed. Her voice was soft, but her words were crystal clear. "You know exactly who you want to marry."

The sudden ring of a phone drowned out her words.

Wesley took one look at who was calling and picked it up right away. He quickly wrapped up the call and mentioned that something had come up at work before rushing off.

Watching him leave like that, she suddenly realized that confronting him didn't even matter anymore.

After all, some relationships were like expired candy. It looked fine on the surface, but it was rotten underneath. Trying to eat it would only leave a nasty aftertaste.

Wesley had just walked out when Emma's phone buzzed. She received a message from Sandra.

In the photo, Wesley was down on one knee, holding Sandra's ankle carefully in his hands as he focused on tying an anklet.

Emma suddenly remembered dragging Wesley to the metaphysical store in the past. She had crouched inside the store forever, trying to pick an anklet. When she turned around, she saw him standing a few steps back, checking his watch with an annoyed look.

He had said, "I can't believe you buy into these silly superstitions."

Just as Emma was lost in thought, Sandra's message came through. "All I did was mention I wasn't feeling well, and Wesley immediately went to the metaphysical store to get me the lucky anklet. Did he ever go out of his way like that for you? Wake up, Emma. He never loved you."

Emma clenched her phone. The screen's harsh glow lit up her face, illuminating her icy expression.

That was true. He never loved her, and she was done hoping he ever would.

…

Wesley didn't come home for the next two days. Emma didn't run into him again until Sandra's farewell gathering on the third day.

Dressed in a sharp black suit, he slowly pushed the wheelchair through the crowd. Sandra sat in it with a blanket over her legs, looking so fragile and delicate.

All Sandra did was tilt her chin up slightly, and Wesley immediately bent down to ask her what was wrong. Seeing this, Emma smirked in disdain.

He kept saying he was just putting on a show with Sandra. But the look in his eyes when he glanced her way was full of love, like he did four years ago.

Soon, the farewell gathering began. With tears in his eyes, Adam told everyone about Sandra's illness and said, "Sandra is unlucky, but she is also blessed. She doesn't have much time left, but she has a family who loves her deeply and a devoted partner who stays by her side."

The big screen lit up, showing a slideshow of photos of Sandra growing up.

On her first birthday, Adam and Jamie threw a grand birthday party for her.

When she was ten, Adam taught her how to play the piano, guiding her hands himself. At 18, her family was there at her graduation, beaming and holding each other.

In all the photos, Emma faded into the background, witnessing the happiness that was never hers.

The scene changed, and now the photos showed Wesley with Sandra. One captured him congratulating her with a bouquet after she took first place.

Another showed him sitting quietly as her model while she painted. In their wedding photos, they held each other tight.

They grew from kids in school uniforms to adults in formal attire, but the devotion in his eyes never faded.

Just as everyone was lost in the heartfelt moment, the photos on the screen suddenly vanished, switching to crimson text on a black background.

"Go to hell, Sandra! You took my man. Just like your mother, you're nothing but a husband-stealing whore. I hope you never rest. Even in death, you'll suffer forever in the darkest pits of hell."

The air in the room went dead. Then, the place erupted.

All eyes instinctively turned to Emma.

Emma stood there in a daze. Before she could figure out what was going on, Jamie called out in a panic, "Sandra!"

Sandra had fainted after seeing the red text. Wesley's face went pale. He picked her up and carried her out of the room to the hospital.

Emma's mind went completely blank. It wasn't until a sharp slap landed across her face that she suddenly snapped back to reality.

Adam was furious, glaring at her with a vein throbbing at his temple. "Where did I go wrong? How did you turn out like this? How could you curse her like that when she's already so ill?"

Emma stumbled back a few steps, knocking over the champagne tower by accident. Alcohol was spilled everywhere.

She fell into the pile of broken glass, wincing in pain as she explained, "It wasn't me."

Adam snapped, "Shut up! You've always been jealous of the attention Sandra gets, but she isn't going to be around much longer. How can you be so heartless? Take this ungrateful wretch out of my sight and lock her up."

…

Emma was shoved into a dark room. She had been afraid of the dark since she was a kid, and her claustrophobia made it worse.

The moment the door slammed shut, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Darkness closed in on her from every direction like a rising tide.

She pounded on the door with her bloodied hands, leaving vivid streaks behind. "Open up. I'm begging you. Let me out."

But there was only silence from the other side. She slowly slid down onto the floor, completely drained. Her chest tightened with each rapid breath.

She had no idea how long had passed. Just as she was about to black out, the door opened, and she crawled out in a rush.

The next moment, a bucket of foul salt water poured down on her. A second bucket followed, and then the third.

Emma choked as she gasped for air. Her vision went fuzzy, but she still managed to make out a familiar figure by the door—Wesley.

He stood on the line between light and shadow, watching coldly as his men threw bucket after bucket of salt water at her. He never once told them to stop until the last bucket was empty.

He slowly walked over to her, bent down, and wiped her cheek with a silk handkerchief. But his words were sharp and cruel. "Sandra is awake. She doesn't blame you for cursing her and forgives you. She even said it wasn't really you who did it, but you were possessed."

He paused. "I had my men prepare the salt water for you. It's supposed to ward off evil spirits, but it won't do anything unless you're soaked in it for 72 hours."

A hint of horror flickered in Emma's eyes. She desperately grabbed Wesley's hand. "I had nothing to do with the crimson words. You have to believe me."

He slowly pried her fingers off his hand, cruel to the last. "Actions have consequences, Emma. Even a child gets that."

Feeling the last bit of warmth leaving her hand, she tried one last time to say something, but it just sounded pitiful and pleading. "Please don't leave me here. I'm afraid of the dark."

His gaze was icy. "What about Sandra? When you wrote the message, did it ever cross your mind that she might be scared too?"

Emma momentarily zoned out, lost in the memory of a thunderstorm years ago. The power went out, and she curled up in the corner, shaking in fear.

Wesley filled the house with candlelight, wrapped her in his arms, and gently rubbed her back. "Don't be scared, Em. I'm right here."

But that same man was the one shoving her into a living nightmare now.

A brutal, wrenching pain seized her belly without warning. She doubled over, her hand flying to her stomach. Then, she felt a warm liquid trickling down her thighs.

It dawned on her that this could be a miscarriage. Trembling, she grabbed his pants, her voice cracking with panic. "I'm bleeding, Wesley. I think I'm losing the baby. I'm begging you. You have to take me to the hospital."

Wesley stopped in his tracks and frowned. "You're not even pregnant. How could you be having a miscarriage?"

Emma was in so much pain that she could barely see. "It's true. I have your baby inside me."

He didn't buy it and snapped before leaving, "Enough! I'll come back for you in three days."

A broken whimper tore from her lips. She scraped her nails against the ground, but her desperate effort wasn't enough to stop him from walking away. Her trembling hand grabbed the empty air before giving up and falling.

She collapsed into the pool of blood. Before fainting, she laughed bitterly.

In that moment, Emma finally saw Wesley for who he truly was.

When Emma came to, she was in a hospital bed.

The doctor sighed and looked at her with pity in her eyes. "You're finally awake. You lost a dangerous amount of blood from the miscarriage. If you had gotten here any later, we wouldn't have been able to bring you back."

Emma learned from the doctor that she had survived because the housekeeper had found her unconscious the next day while delivering food.

"Your family is unbelievable. How could they treat you like this? Your husband, of all people, won't even pick up his phone. When he shows up here, I'm giving him a piece of my mind."

Emma interrupted the doctor, her fingers clutching the sheets, "You can't tell him I was pregnant."

Wesley wouldn't believe her anyway. His heart wasn't with her anymore, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

The doctor looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just shook her head and left.

Wesley couldn't be bothered to visit Emma in the hospital, but he was all over Sandra's social media.

The first day was a close-up of a bowl of chicken soup. The caption read, "Ten years, and it's still my favorite."

The next day, Sandra posted a photo of a man asleep by her bedside. She wrote, "Woke up from a nightmare. There's nothing better than opening my eyes to this."

Emma suddenly remembered that whenever she got sick, Wesley would always make her chicken soup. When she was burning with fever, he would stay by the bed like that too, holding her hand and refusing to let go.

The realization dawned on her. All that care and attention was never for her. He was only loving her because she reminded him of Sandra.

On the day she was discharged, he finally called, "Something urgent with the company came up. I'm sending a chauffeur to pick you up."

She didn't argue or demand an explanation. She just replied flatly, "Alright."

When the call ended, she gently touched her belly.

At this point, Wesley was just a name in Emma's contacts that she was about to delete. She wasn't going to waste any more hope on him.

…

Emma came home to find Sandra in the living room, holding a palette and freely painting all over the wall. All her photos with Wesley were thrown on the floor, splattered with paint.

Seeing Emma, Sandra smirked. "You're back, Em. The wall was begging for a new look. I figured it needed a major upgrade. I hope you don't mind."

Emma glanced at the mess and replied indifferently, "Whatever."

This place hadn't felt like home for ages. It was clear she wasn't going to be the lady of the house much longer.

Just then, Wesley walked out of the kitchen with a plate of cut fruit. He noticed Emma going up the stairs and blocked her path. "Sandra is trying to be the bigger person here. Watch your attitude."

Emma's pale face showed nothing but weariness. "What do you want? Am I supposed to grovel at her feet and thank her for ruining the photos?"

Sandra quickly smoothed things over. "Don't be too hard on her, Wesley. Em doesn't mean it."

Wesley remarked, "If she didn't mean to, then why would she say something so horrible to you?"

He looked at Emma like she was a stranger. "You really let me down, Emma."

She was too drained to argue with him. She shouldered past him and went upstairs. She was still physically wrecked from the abortion.

She had only been lying down for a minute when the door was pushed open.

Sandra appeared in the doorway, her gentle look completely wiped away by outright scorn.

She snickered. "Does it bother you to see Wesley sticking up for me? I warned you that he was just playing games with you. I can't believe you were dumb enough to fall for it."

Emma rolled over. She didn't want to waste her breath and pulled the covers over her head.

But Sandra closed in on Emma, refusing to drop it. "Do you know what everyone is saying about you? Word is you spent four years in bed with your brother-in-law and ended up empty-handed. Even the escorts working in the night scene get paid.

"Stop fooling yourself, Emma. The Payne family doesn't need you. Wesley doesn't want you anymore. You and your mom are both nothing but baggage."

The mention of Helena was the last straw. Emma's head jerked up, and she glared daggers at Sandra. "Why are you so mad? Are you afraid that he actually fell for me over these four years?"

Sandra was momentarily taken aback, then snorted. Her eyes were filled with contempt. "Would he seriously fall for you? If he were truly in love with you, would I have the chance to put you down like this?"

Moments later, a loud bang echoed as the door shut. Emma clutched her sheets, feeling a deep chill settle in.

Luckily, she was getting out of here soon. She wouldn't have to deal with these awful people anymore.