After the memorial service ended, Charlotte posted an update online: [Gavin, thank you for giving me a love that belonged to me alone. In the next life, we'll be together again.]

The attached photo showed her standing on stage, mourning as if she were Gavin's widow. Behind her, "Sebastian" stood silently, a figure of steadfast protection.

The post went viral, instantly topping the hot search. Comments flooded in.

"What a perfect match. A pity the Holt family's heir passed away so young."

"How can a widow possibly stand firm in a wealthy household? Wouldn't it be better if the younger brother married her, fulfilling the elder brother's last wish?"

"You know, they really do look well-matched. If they got together, it would be a legendary love story in the elite circle."

Charlotte reposted the trending topic, then quickly "accidentally" deleted it, fanning the flames of speculation even further.

Perhaps noticing my pale expression after the memorial, "Sebastian" rushed home to explain.

"Emily, what happened today wasn't meant to exclude you. There were too many people at the service, and you're pregnant. I worried you'd be overlooked in the chaos. Please don't misunderstand."

He placed some expensive tonics in my room, then carefully instructed the housekeeper to take good care of me.

He had treated me this way before, with meticulous tenderness. But now, every gesture reeked of irony.

They refused to acknowledge me publicly, yet disguised it as concern for my well-being. Even these so-called gifts of apology weren't for me—they were to ensure the safe delivery of the child.

'Gavin, your performance is flawless,' I thought bitterly.

I forced a bitter smile. "It's fine. There were too many guests today. It makes sense for the Holt family to be cautious. Only… the comments online, don't you—"

A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes. "Gavin asked me to protect Charlotte. As long as she agrees, I'm willing to marry his widow."

A laugh slipped from me—sharp and hollow.

So this was their game. They were already deeply entwined, yet they were pretending their union was a noble sacrifice for the family.

'Gavin, how long do you intend to keep acting?'

But I no longer had the energy to expose them. Without the child, I had nothing left to tether me here.

Just before I entered the operating room, my phone rang. It was him.

I thought he had something urgent to tell me, but when I answered, the line filled with breathless gasps and the sounds of a body writhing under another's weight.

"Gavin, what if Emily refuses to leave after the baby is born?"

"Don't worry. By then, I'll have her thrown out. If not for the sake of giving the Holt family an heir, I wouldn't spare her a glance."

"That's perfect. I know you love me most."

The line dissolved into sultry moans. I hung up.

"Miss Steele," the doctor asked gently, "the baby is developing perfectly. Are you certain you want to terminate the pregnancy?"

"Yes," I said. "Begin the surgery."

If this child was destined to grow up in such poisonous schemes, then better it vanish before it could ever feel pain.

When it was over, I steadied myself against the wall as I left the hospital. Outside, Sebastian's car was waiting.

"Cordelia told me you were here. Are you unwell?" His anxious gaze darted to my stomach, terrified that something had happened to the baby.

"It's nothing. Just morning sickness. I asked the doctor for some medicine."

Relief washed over him, though a trace of guilt flitted across his face.

"Just now… my phone must have dialed you by mistake. You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"No," I lied smoothly. "The doctor took my phone as soon as I answered."

"Good. That's good." His shoulders finally relaxed. "Come home. I asked Cordelia to make your favorite dishes."

"Mm."

We rode in silence.

The moment we returned, Charlotte skipped over, looping her arms around his neck in delight.

"Sebastian, I picked a date for our wedding! Next weekend! Our fans online voted for that date. What do you think?"

He tapped her nose affectionately. "Sounds perfect. Whatever you want."

"But… isn't next weekend Emily's prenatal checkup?" Cordelia emerged from the kitchen, muttering under her breath. She had been with me since the beginning of my relationship with Gavin, and she naturally sided with me more than Charlotte.

Charlotte's face darkened instantly. "Sebastian, even your servant dares to speak over me. Clearly, this house has no place for me."

Pained, he drew her close and turned on Cordelia with a scolding glare. "This is none of your business. Leave us."

After Cordelia slipped away, he hesitated, then softened his tone toward me.

"Emily, I know your checkups were always accompanied by Gavin. But a wedding happens only once. I can't let Charlotte regret hers. Let Cordelia go with you this time, all right?"

I nodded obediently, pretending not to notice the triumph glittering in Charlotte's eyes.

'But Gavin, you don't yet know. I no longer need a checkup.'

He pulled her upstairs. The two of them murmured over wedding details, their laughter spilling down the staircase like a knife against my skin.

I picked up my phone and dialed Gavin's parents.

"Dad, Mom, Sebastian is getting married next weekend. And there's something I need to tell you."

When my relationship with Gavin was first made public, his parents were overjoyed. They were determined to see me as the Holt family's daughter-in-law.

So when "Gavin" died, "Sebastian" insisted I remain in the Holt household with the child I carried, and his parents supported the decision.

But now that the child was gone, I had no more ties to them and no reason to keep up the charade.

The next morning, I woke to the sharp pounding of fists on my door.

"Emily, what is this nonsense? Just because I didn't go to your doctor's appointment with you, you let my brother's photo get into this state?" "Sebastian" yelled.

I glanced toward the memorial set up in the living room. The flowers had long since wilted and rotted, and the photo on the mantel was coated in a thick layer of dust.

There was a time when I would replace them with fresh bouquets every few days, carefully dusting so not a single speck of dirt would ever touch his photograph.

But now, I no longer had the heart.

"I forgot. Tell Cordelia to take care of it," I said flatly.

Suspicion flickered across his face. "You always handled it yourself. Gavin's only been gone a short while. How can you already be so careless?"

So he did notice my devotion and the torment I endured. Yet even knowing that, he still dared deceive me with his false death.

"I'll clean it myself when I'm feeling better," I lied, brushing off his doubt. He assumed it was pregnancy fatigue and pressed no further.

"Emily, Sebastian and I are going to pick out wedding dresses. You have experience. Come and help us choose."

Charlotte's words dripped with mockery. Before I could refuse, she had already dragged me into the car.

Of course, she only meant to provoke me.

Gavin never saw me in a wedding gown, yet now he was about to personally help Charlotte put one on.

Inside the boutique fitting room, I was zipping up the back of her dress when she suddenly leaned close and whispered.

"Emily, you really are pathetic. Even with Gavin's child in your belly, you couldn't keep your place as Mrs. Holt. Laughable, isn't it? You had a wedding all alone."

Her lips curled with malice. "Oh, and you don't even know, do you? Gavin already said—your child would be calling me 'mommy'. And you? You're nothing but a discarded woman, condemned to a lifetime of humiliation."

Before I could answer, she tore her own gown with a sharp rip and flung herself from the platform with a scream.

"Charlotte! Are you alright?"

"Sebastian" stormed in, rushing to embrace her. Seeing her ankle reddened and swollen, his face twisted with fury.

"Emily, I know you're bitter that you never had a proper wedding with Gavin, but how could you destroy Charlotte's dress and even try to hurt her?"

Tears welled in Charlotte's eyes as she displayed her swollen ankle. "Emily, you've gone too far. I only wanted to share my joy with you. How could you be so jealous? You owe me an apology."

Though I had already given up on Gavin, bitterness still surged at the sight of him shielding Charlotte so tenderly.

"Why should I apologize? I never touched her. She ripped the dress herself—"

"Enough!" His roar cut me off. "I never thought you'd be so petty. Since you refuse to admit fault, then don't bother coming to the wedding next weekend."

With that, he led Charlotte out, leaving me standing alone in the fitting room.

That very night, he flew in a haute couture gown from overseas to replace the one "I" had ruined as Charlotte's compensation.

Meanwhile, every one of my wedding photos was stripped from the walls and burned to ash.

I stared at the wreckage, my heart utterly numb, thinking, 'Fine. Better this way. Saves me the trouble of clearing it out myself.'

On the wedding day, the hall glittered with guests—nobility, tycoons, high-ranking officials. They had all come to give their blessings. Gavin's parents stood at the entrance, poised to receive them.

Draped in her couture gown, Charlotte walked proudly up the red carpet. On stage, she called out softly, "Dad. Mom."

But Gavin's parents remained silent.

"Sebastian" frowned. "Dad, Mom, Charlotte's calling you."

Mr. Holt gave a low cough. "Our family has only one daughter-in-law. Even if Gavin is gone, I will never allow this woman into our home."

"Dad, I know you're still grieving Gavin, but recognizing Charlotte as a member of our family was his dying wish!" "Sebastian" said earnestly, utterly oblivious to me standing just below the stage.

"Act in a play long enough, and you begin to mistake it for reality. Isn't that right… Gavin?"