One step away.

I was so close to completing my mission—to give birth to the child of the primary affection target. The system had promised me that as long as I succeeded in delivering the baby, my mission would be considered complete, even if the affection values of all three targets had plummeted to zero.

But at seven months pregnant, my CEO husband stormed into the hospital and took me away.

My childhood best friend who pushed me onto the operating table with his own hands.

My parents stood outside, signing the consent forms without a second thought.

No matter how desperately I begged, screamed, or pleaded, they still took my baby from me. All to harvest the umbilical cord blood to save my sister, Delia Hayes.

I lay forgotten on that cold, metal table, listening to my child's cries grow weaker and weaker until they stopped entirely.

The system's voice echoed in my mind, cold and unyielding: Mission failed. Life termination imminent.

But just as my life began to slip away, those very people who once wished for my death suddenly lost their minds.

***

In the dim glow of the ultrasound room, the doctor placed the probe aside and smiled gently at me. “The baby looks healthy. From the facial structure, I'd say it's going to be a healthy baby.”

I let out a shaky breath of relief and moved to get off the bed.

The door burst open with a loud crack. A group of men dressed in black suits flooded into the room and at the front of them stood my husband, Damon Cross, CEO of the CrossCorp International.

He was the third and final target of my mission. But his heart had always belonged to Delia.

The doctor barely had time to protest before the guards dragged him out.

Damon advanced step by step, his icy, emotionless gaze sending chills down my spine. His eyes flicked toward my belly with a glint of cold satisfaction.

I was immediately hauled to my feet by the guards.

A sick dread twisted my stomach. I struggled desperately. “Damon, what are you doing?”

His hand shot out, clamping around my chin. “Delia is sick. She needs umbilical cord blood from a direct relative.”

“Congratulations. The bastard you schemed to conceive is finally good for something,” he added.

My mind went blank. I stared at him in disbelief. “The baby is only seven months... what are you planning to do?”

He sneered. “Induce labor, of course. Stop trying to use the kid to manipulate me. It's an honor for that brat to help Delia.”

The room tilted around me as his words struck like a bolt of lightning.

He wanted to cut my baby out early. To save Delia.

“Please, Damon, I'm begging you!” I sobbed. “The baby won't survive at seven months.”

“Look, just give me three more months,” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. “I swear, I'll deliver it and you can take the cord blood then.”

Damon didn't even spare me a glance. “Three months? What, so you can drag this out and let Delia die?”

But Delia wasn't actually sick. I knew it. This was just another one of her elaborate schemes.

Terror clawed at me as I felt the guards tightening their hold. “Damon, please,” I sobbed. “The baby will die. I will die.”

He didn't even blink. “Now you're scared? You should've thought of that before you tricked me to get you pregnant.” 

“The brat was never meant to exist. If it dies, then it's meant to be.” 

Before I could scream, a guard stuffed a cloth into my mouth.

Tears ran down my face as despair hollowed me out from within. I screamed, kicking and fighting with every ounce of strength I had left. A rough hand shoved a cloth over my mouth, muffling my cries. The salty sting of tears blurred my vision.

As despair dragged me under, the system's voice crackled to life inside my mind:

[Warning: Premature delivery detected. Mission failure imminent.]

[Life termination initiated.]

A pause. Then: [There is one last chance. Accumulate enough regret from the affection targets and the mission will deem success.]

I shook my head, tears streaming down. There was no hope. Even if I died, they wouldn't shed a single tear for me. I'd never been able to compete with Delia.

Damon. I once thought he was my salvation.

When my parents and my childhood friend, Caleb Bauer, abandoned me for Delia, Damon appeared like an angel descending from the heavens. He saved me from a predatory customer while I was working at a hotel. When my parents threw me out, he found me wandering in a snowstorm and took me in.

Even when he met Delia, he never wavered. He told my parents and Caleb that he didn't believe I deliberately caused my sister's disappearance.

But on our wedding day, Delia pulled out a small wooden flute. Damon's eyes lit up as he gripped her hand and said he'd been searching for her for ten years. From that moment on, no matter what I did, if Delia was there, I was in the wrong. Even the child I carried became a mistake.

Pinned to the cold operating table, I lay there, quiet as a corpse. Damon looked surprised.

“Finally gave up? Could've saved yourself all this trouble if you'd done it sooner.”

I glanced at my limbs, bruised and swollen from the struggle, then said, voice calm, “Give me a divorce, Damon.”

The system kept urging me to cut ties anyway, even when I refused the last mission.

“What did you say?” Damon asked, stunned.

I knew why he was shocked. It was because when he wanted to divorce me for Delia and offered me an astronomical sum as compensation, I never budged.

Even when he completely disregarded me and humiliated me repeatedly in front of others, I never once mentioned divorce.

“Let’s get divorce. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. At least... don't let the baby die by its father's hand.”

His eyes widened, then hardened into a sneer. “Don't try to guilt-trip me. I hired the best doctors. That bastard won't die.”

He shot me cold look, “Not everyone is as heartless as you, using a child as a bargaining chip.” Pain, sharp and unrelenting, sliced through me, but I no longer cared.

“You’ve always wanted your freedom, haven’t you?” I whispered. “Now you can have it. Besides, I don’t want my child to have a cruel father like you!”

He stared at me, eyes narrowing as if trying to determine whether I was bluffing.

“Just sign it!” Caleb, my childhood friend and second mission target, called from across the room.

“What are you waiting for?” Caleb cut in, impatient. “The longer you wait, the longer you delay Delia's treatment. We’re running out of time.”

Damon snatched the pen from his secretary and signed the divorce agreement. He threw the papers onto my chest. “You're the one at fault here. So, don't expect a penny.”

I didn't bother retorting. Money wouldn't matter soon. I'd be dead within the hour.

The process would take an hour. Before the scalpel touch my belly I gave my belly a rub

“I'm sorry, baby” I whispered. “I couldn't protect you.”

A faint flutter responded, like a tiny hand pressing back. Tears blurred my vision.

Caleb scoffed. “Spare us the act. You don't care about that child.”

I stared at him—my once-gentle childhood friend who'd sworn to protect me forever.

“You promised me, Caleb,” I said. “You said you'd always protect me.”

He had. When my parents locked me up and left me to starve after Delia's disappearance, Caleb climbed twenty stories to bring me food.

“When we grow up,” he'd said, “I'll take you away from here.”

But Delia wanted Caleb. And no matter how many friends she had, she fixated on him.

At first, Caleb dismissed her. But after countless water deliveries to the basketball court, his stance softened.

“Maybe we misunderstood her,” Caleb said one day after practice.

I said nothing. He fell into awkward silence. That was when I realized his affection for me had already started to wane. He was still kind to me, but he was even kinder to Delia.

His favorability score, once near-perfect, dropped. He began skipping class for her.

Fought for her. Stabbed a professor when Delia claimed the man gave her creepy looks.

That professor had a spotless reputation, strict but fair. He only reprimanded Delia for violating the dress code. When Caleb's affection for me plummeted to 30%, he turned his madness on me.

One day, after his affection for me plummeted to thirty percent, he showed up after school with a bag of my favorite snacks. I didn't suspect anything when he offered me a ride. He took me to an abandoned warehouse and locked the door.

“It was you, wasn't it? You leaked Delia's nudes,” he hissed. “Did you know that she got that old geezer leering at her because of those photos? You wanted to ruin her, didn't you?”

Before I could explain, he ripped off my jacket and snapped photo after photo of me in my underwear.

“Enjoy the attention,” he spat. “Maybe now you'll know what it feels like to be called a slut.” 

He left me half-naked on the concrete.

That night, a vagrant found me. I fought, caved his skull in with a brick and fled.

When my parents came to get me from the police station, Caleb was already there, telling the officers I'd stripped naked to seduce him.

The rumor spread like wildfire across campus.

Everyone called me a whore. Every creep thought they had the right to grope me in passing.

I survived the rest of college, trembling through each day. I finally got into a top graduate program abroad.

But Caleb claimed I'd drugged Delia during the entrance exams to sabotage her performance.

He cornered me, waving those photos in my face, threatening to spread them if I didn't give up my spot.

So, I did. 

My only hope shattered. Even retaking the exams became impossible—he made sure of it.

All because he feared I might get into grad school and hurt Delia again. So I scraped by with odd jobs, just trying to survive. But Caleb never stopped. Whenever I found stable work, he'd send thugs to cause trouble until I was fired.

It didn’t stop until I met Damon. Caleb backed off only because Delia wanted to use me to get closer to him. Even though she didn’t love Damon, Caleb still sacrificed everything for her.

Just like now. He was willing to risk losing his medical license to carve out my child—just to save Delia.

Hearing me mention his childhood promise, Caleb’s sneer deepened.

He let out a cold laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You think you’re worthy of being protected?”

Caleb pulled on his gloves and began preparing the instruments. His gel-covered hands pressed against my stomach, cold and impersonal, like I was livestock under his inspection. After a moment, he nodded with satisfaction.

“You remind me of an old saying,” he mused, his tone mocking, “even a tiger won't eat its own cub. I can’t believe someone as vicious as you managed to bear a healthy child.”

He picked up a scalpel, eyes gleaming. “If this child can save Delia's life, maybe I'll consider giving you back your photos.”

“Don’t bother,” I said calmly. Caleb didn't know that Delia had already spread those pictures everywhere. There was nothing left to blackmail me with.

“But I want something else,” I said, raising my wrist with the faded bracelet. “Remember this?” Caleb's gaze dropped to the worn plastic bracelet around my wrist. Surprise flickered across his face. The cheap charm had long since lost its color. He had given it to me when we were children, saying it was a symbol of his promise to protect me. 

“I want to claim your promise.”

His fingers hesitated before he slipped it off, stroking the frayed string. For a moment, his expression softened.

“Apart from setting you free,” he murmured, “I can promise you anything.”

I lowered my eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze. “After I die, scatter my ashes in the river.”

His jaw clenched. “You really think you can play the martyr?” he snapped. “It's just a C-section. You're not going to die.”

I smiled faintly. “I trust your medical skills,” I said. “But death doesn't need an invitation.”

Caleb turned away with a grunt and busied himself checking the equipment. He didn't even call for a nurse; he was going to operate alone.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you want to use that promise for something like this, don't regret it. From now on, as long as you leave Delia alone, we’re done.”

He turned his back to me again. I stared at him for a moment, then whispered, “Goodbye, Caleb.”

The system confirmed it: the last thread connecting me to Caleb had been severed.

I asked the system why, when I was destined to die, it was so insistent on cutting ties with my targets. But the system, usually so chatty, fell silent.

The system had pushed me to end things with him, though I didn't understand why. I was destined to die anyway. What was the point of breaking these connections?

The system, usually so chatty, remained silent.

Just then, the door burst open. My parents stormed in, clutching a document. Without a word, they grabbed my hand and forced my thumb onto the ink pad.

It was a surrogacy agreement.

As long as Delia remained sick, I would be forced to stay pregnant, endlessly providing her with umbilical cord blood.

Mom and Dad—my first assigned "targets" when I arrived in this world. The system said that parental love was the easiest kind of affection to earn, so it counted both of them as a single goal. I had to reach 100% affection from both to complete the task.

Their favorability rating towards me had always been stable at 99%. For years, they'd adored me, kept me close and showered me with affection. I truly believed it would last forever. Even if I never completed the task or returned to my original world, I'd been content to grow old with them here.

But everything changed the day Delia returned.

Her tearful words echoed in my memory: “I don't know why Aurora left me there alone.”

They hadn't questioned her story; they'd simply looked at me with cold, accusing eyes.

And after Delia repeatedly whimpered, “Aurora, I'll be good. Please don't leave me again,” their affection withered entirely.

From that moment on, I became invisible in my own home.

Parent-teacher conferences? They only attended Delia's. Vacations, gifts, new clothes? All for Delia.

When I joined them at the dinner table, the lively chatter died. Sometimes, they didn't even set a place for me. Later, they claimed work trips as an excuse to stay away. Delia and I were sent to boarding school. But classmates whispered the truth: Delia was a day student. Our parents picked her up every afternoon, smiling, arms laden with treats. They'd built a new life without me.

When I introduced Damon to them, they refused to meet him. Until Delia declared she liked him too. Then, on the very night, they called, invited us to a lavish family dinner.

They got Damon drunk and locked him in a room with Delia, while locking me outside. I stood outside in the freezing cold, pounding on the door, begging them to stop.

“This is what you owe Delia,” Dad said through the crack in the door.

But Damon didn't go along with it. He climbed out the window and disappeared into the night.

Afterward, my parents begged me to convince Damon to marry Delia. When I refused, they cut me off.

They vanished from my life for seven years. When neighbors asked about me, they'd say I'd run off with a delinquent and died somewhere far away.

I might never have seen them again if not for Delia's illness. Now, here they were again, forcing my signature on a contract that turned me into a breeding machine for Delia's health. I didn't resist. I simply let them press my thumb to the paper.