"I've been regulating my cycle." I snatched the pills back, forcing my voice steady.

Malcolm laughed in disbelief, his eyes going cold.

"You don't want to carry my child, is that it?!"

He stared at my face, at the distance that had settled there without either of us noticing when it began. Fury surged through him, though beneath it flickered something he refused to acknowledge: panic.

My silence was answer enough.

"Wonderful."

To mask that sliver of unease, Malcolm released me with a shove so abrupt it bordered on violent.

"If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will!"

He stormed out and into the guest bedroom, dragging Lillian back with him.

He sat her on the edge of the bed, his voice deliberately low, almost coaxing. "Lillian, would you be willing to have my baby?"

Lillian's cheeks flushed. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know how."

Malcolm let out a quiet laugh. It was soft but carried no warmth. His gaze drifted past her and landed squarely on me, bright with undisguised humiliation.

"That's fine."

"Your sister will teach you."

My head snapped up. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, and for a second I was sure I'd misheard.

Malcolm was going to sleep with Lillian right in front of me and make me coach them through it?

"She's taught plenty of women what to do in bed. One more won't make a difference."

He spoke slowly, his tone airy, laced with contempt.

Something seized my heart and squeezed. I thought of our wedding night seven years ago, Malcolm holding my hand, murmuring against my hair:

"You don't have to learn any of that servant nonsense my mother talks about. I'd never let you suffer even the smallest indignity."

My nails dug into my palms until they nearly broke the skin. I couldn't feel the pain.

Humiliation swallowed me whole.

I watched, eyes open, as the man who was still legally my husband pressed another woman into the bed and lavished her with tenderness.

I didn't want to watch. He made me guide them.

I was pinned in place, and whatever warmth remained inside me cooled degree by degree.

Until there was nothing left but dead, frozen silence.

Malcolm told me what to say, and I said it.

Calm as a puppet with its strings pulled taut.

When it was over, Lillian looked up with wounded eyes, her voice cottony and soft.

"Am I boring? I don't know anything. I'm not as good as she is..."

Malcolm leaned down to soothe her, his expression sated.

"You're nothing like her."

"She's a tramp. She knows every trick in the book because she trained her old lovers one by one."

"But you're innocent. Pure as a blank page. That's what makes you irresistible."

I let out a hollow laugh.

When we first married, I'd been curious about all of it. The two of us would hide under the covers, blushing, figuring things out together.

Now all of that had been reduced to one breezy verdict: I was easy.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I bolted to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left.

The woman in the mirror was ashen, her lips drained of color.

My phone rang.

"The three-year agreement is up. It's time for you to step aside." Lauren Henson's voice on the other end was flat, indifferent.

"I've already sent Lillian to the Delgado estate. Find a way to make Malcolm marry her. This marriage was supposed to be hers in the first place."

"Don't overstay your welcome."

A strange clarity settled over me. My entire life had been something of a joke.

The love was a lie.

So was the family.

Lillian had been reclaimed by the Hensons three years ago, but they'd never made it public.

They even told me my birth parents had died in a car accident.

I had nothing left.

"As long as you give up your position," they continued, "we'll grant you one condition."

I closed my eyes. My throat burned, dry as paper.

"Fine. I want a green card."

I never wanted the title of Mrs. Delgado anyway.

Malcolm was standing in the doorway. I didn't know how long he'd been there. His gaze was heavy, fixed on me.

"You're going to the States?"

My body went rigid, but I smoothed it over quickly.

"A business partner's wife invited me to see an exhibition in the US."

Malcolm frowned. His tone dropped back to ice.

"I'll ask you one last time. Will you have my child?"

I knew that if I nodded, everything would go back to the way it was. As if none of this had happened.

In six days I would be gone for good.

Whether or not I agreed was mine to decide.

But the word "yes" lodged in my throat like a stone.

I couldn't force it out.

"Perfect," Malcolm's face darkened in an instant.

"You're going to regret this, Prudence."

The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the frame.

I stood before the mirror and realized tears were already sliding down my cheeks.

The truth was, I already had regrets.

Regretting ever loving Malcolm Delgado.

Regretting ever marrying him.

The next morning, Malcolm gathered every servant in the house and made his announcement.

"From today on, you will treat Lillian as the lady of this house."

"Meals, daily care, everything prepared to the highest standard for a woman trying to conceive."

The butler hesitated, then asked carefully, "And the living arrangements...?"

Malcolm glanced at me. His tone was thin, mocking.

"Move my wife's things out of the master bedroom and give it to Lillian. She's carrying something precious now. She deserves the best."

"Malcolm, that's our bedroom!"

My voice cracked for the first time.

Every piece of that room we had chosen together, arranged together.

Every sweet memory we ever made lived between those walls.

Last night he'd taken another woman in that bed, and the thought alone made my stomach turn.

Now he wanted me to hand over the entire room.

Lillian spoke up, her voice small. "It's okay, really. I can stay in the guest room... even if it's a little scary being alone."

Malcolm pulled her into his arms at once, his voice softening. "No need."

He looked at me, careless and cutting. "Since you won't have my child, Prudence, don't interfere with my decisions."

"Until the baby is born, Lillian is the lady of this house."

"And when the child arrives, it'll be registered under your name. Lillian will never get to hear her own baby call her 'Mom.'"

"To make up for that, you'll move into the guest room and take care of her. Through the pregnancy, the delivery, and recovery."

My eyes finally burned red.

He wanted me to play nursemaid to his mistress?

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, none of them daring to breathe.

Was the lady of the Delgado household really being replaced?

Malcolm looked at me and raised one brow. "Any objections?"

I stared at the man who had once fought the entire world for me.

The one who held me in the rain and whispered, "No one gets to hurt you."

As if he'd never existed at all.

A long silence passed.

Slowly, I unclenched my fists, fingers numb from how tightly I'd been gripping.

My palms were stained deep red.

"No objections."

Soon enough, I wouldn't be here anyway.

What did it matter to me who slept in the master bedroom?

Malcolm's expression was stone-cold as he issued his orders. "Take care of Lillian while you're home. There's a gala the evening after tomorrow. You'll both attend. The gowns will be delivered tonight."

I answered quietly.

The next afternoon, I stood in the living room, watching the housekeeper press the gowns inch by careful inch.

I had no desire to play the charming wife at another one of Malcolm's galas.

But I refused to show up looking like a wreck. The gown and the jewelry were things I always inspected myself.

Lillian stood off to the side, her voice small and tentative. "Prudence, could you teach me the etiquette for these kinds of events?"

I didn't want to acknowledge her, but the housekeeper was right there, and I still had a role to play: the composed wife of a powerful man.

So I swallowed what I felt and walked her through the tedious formalities, one by one.

Lillian listened attentively. Then she said, "Prudence, I'd love to learn how to press clothes too. So I can iron Malcolm's shirts for him. Would that be okay?"

My fingers stilled for just a beat before I nodded.

"Sure."

Lillian would be the next Mrs. Delgado soon enough. Teaching her how to press his shirts made no difference to me.

I placed my hand over the iron, demonstrating the angle and pressure.

What I didn't expect was Lillian's hand shooting over mine, clamping down hard on my wrist.

I couldn't react in time.

The iron slammed flat against the fabric with a dull thud.

The smell of scorched cloth hit instantly, the material blackening beneath it.

Before I could wrench free, she had already let go.

And in the same breath, Lillian raised her hand and slapped herself across the face. Hard.

I realized what was happening and lunged to stop her, but it was too late.

Lillian was already rushing out, eyes brimming red.

She threw herself into Malcolm's arms, trembling all over, her sobs coming in broken fragments. "Malcolm, Prudence ruined my gown... and she told me not to tell you... I just wanted to learn to press your shirts, and she hit me, called me ungrateful, told me to get out, said I wasn't worthy of carrying your children..."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Prudence?!"

Malcolm's face darkened. His gaze cut toward me, ice-cold.

My stomach dropped. I forced the words out. "Lillian held my hand down and destroyed the gown herself. The slap was self-inflicted. The housekeeper was standing right there. Ask her."

"I... I didn't see anything..."

The housekeeper kept her head low, her voice shaking. She wouldn't even look at me.

I turned to stare at her, unable to believe that the woman I had trusted for seven years would betray me.

Before I could say another word—

Crack.

A slap landed full across my face.

The force snapped my head to the side.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, as if something had been split open inside my skull.

Malcolm stared at me. There was no hesitation in his eyes. Nothing but raw, undisguised contempt.

"When did you become this vicious, Prudence?"

"You refuse to have children yourself, and now you're threatening Lillian? You actually hit her?"

His voice grew colder with every word.

"Do you have any idea that obstructing an heir violates the Delgado family code?"

I drew a deep breath, refusing to accept a crime I hadn't committed. "I won't confess to something I didn't do. Check the security footage. Every inch of this house is covered by cameras."

"No need. You think Lillian would make this up? She's guileless. She doesn't have your kind of scheming mind."

Even my explanations were pointless now.

Malcolm had already convicted me.

"Since you enjoy ironing so much, you can stay in this room and press every last piece of clothing until you're done. Your gown goes to Lillian tomorrow. You can wear the ruined one yourself."

Malcolm let out a cold laugh, shoved me aside, and turned to leave.

My foot slipped. My lower back slammed into the iron I hadn't had time to move.

A searing hiss.

The pain detonated across my skin.

I couldn't hold back the scream. My whole body folded in on itself, vision going black at the edges.

Malcolm's footsteps faltered. He turned back, almost instinctively, concern flickering across his face before he could mask it.

But in the next second, Lillian pressed a hand to her cheek, her voice soft and trembling. "Malcolm... my face hurts so much..."

She'd learned from last time. The slap had been hard enough to leave a convincing flush, red and raw-looking, but calibrated just right so it wouldn't swell.

After all, swelling would mean she couldn't attend the gala.

Malcolm forgot what he'd been about to do. He reached for her face at once, his voice turning gentle. "Don't worry. Let me take you to get something for it."

His hand rested protectively against her back.

He didn't look at me again.

The housekeeper had already slipped away.

I straightened up slowly. Pain pulsed through my lower back in waves.

I went to get the burn ointment myself. My hands were shaking so badly it took several tries to twist off the cap.

In that moment, I couldn't tell which hurt more.

My back, or my heart.

I was supposed to have stopped expecting anything from Malcolm by now.

Because he'd deliberately kept me from buying a new gown, I couldn't wear the ruined one to the gala. On the night of the event, I had no choice but to put on an old dress.

The fabric was dated, the cut no longer flattering by current standards, but I still smoothed the hem inch by inch.

The entire ride there, I didn't say a single word to Malcolm.

He gave a cold scoff. The moment the car stopped, he stepped out with Lillian.

The door closed in my face.

I was a step behind. By the time I climbed out, one hand braced against my aching back, they were already walking ahead, side by side.

Under the lights, the two of them looked effortless together, intimate and natural. Every bit the married couple.

And I trailed far behind.

The moment I stepped through the entrance of the ballroom, the whispers began.

"Look at her. Why is the chairman's wife lagging behind?"

"He's had plenty of mistresses, but none of them have ever gotten this kind of treatment..."

"Looks like Mrs. Delgado has truly fallen out of favor."

"Look at that gown. Hasn't that been out of style for years?"

"Well, what do you expect? She's a fraud, remember?"

"The real Henson heiress is right up there, on the chairman's arm."

Every whispered barb drove into my eardrums like a needle.

I lifted my chin slightly, kept my spine straight, and walked in as though I hadn't heard a word.

Inside the ballroom, Malcolm was guiding Lillian through the crowd.

She was visibly nervous, stumbling over her words, but he picked up the conversation so seamlessly that no one noticed, smoothing over every awkward pause in two or three sentences.

She couldn't handle alcohol, so he raised the glass for her, intercepting toast after toast.

When Lillian nearly knocked over a wine glass with a clumsy elbow, he caught her wrist and steadied it. "Take it slow. It's fine."

I watched all of it, something thick lodging in my throat.

That used to be me at these events, working the room on his behalf.

I was the one who charmed the guests with the right words at the right time.

I was the one who drank so he didn't have to, who memorized every associate's preferences, who anticipated every detail before it became a problem.

I had to be flawless. Thorough. Beyond reproach. I had to be the impeccable "chairman's wife" before anyone would accept me or take me seriously.

But now Lillian stood at his side.

She couldn't do any of it.

And he shielded her like something precious, letting her carry nothing at all.

Toward the end of the gala, Malcolm needed to speak privately with a potential partner, so a separate room was arranged for the meeting.

As the wife, I was expected to be present.

Lillian, however, wasn't his legal spouse, so she was asked to wait outside.

As the conversation warmed, the partner raised his glass and turned to me with a smile. "Surely the chairman's wife will have a drink?"

A glass of baijiu was pushed in front of me.

My period had started that morning. I was about to decline when a hand reached over and lifted the glass away before I could speak.

"She can't drink today."

Malcolm tipped his head back and downed the liquor in one swallow.

For a split second, as the light caught the movement of his throat, his profile was so familiar it made the room tilt beneath me.

The partner chuckled knowingly. "I had no idea Mr. Delgado and his wife were still so devoted."

There was a thread of mockery in it. Everyone knew about Malcolm's affairs.

But Malcolm just let out a quiet laugh.

"If I don't spoil her, who would I spoil? I said seven years ago I'd be good to my wife for the rest of my life."

I lowered my eyes. My fingernails dug slowly into my palms.

For three years I had told myself, over and over: stop loving Malcolm Delgado.

Stop letting him shake you.

And yet one sentence, one line I knew was nothing more than social performance, still made my chest ache.

I still felt something. After everything, I still felt something for a throwaway line like that.

The meeting was wrapping up when a commotion erupted outside.

Voices clashing, growing louder by the second.

Then the door was flung open.

A server stood in the doorway, white-faced and barely steady on her feet. "Excuse me, who here is Miss Lillian Henson's boyfriend? She's been... she's been assaulted!"

The words had barely left her mouth.

Malcolm shot to his feet. His chair toppled behind him and hit the floor with a crack.

He didn't look at me. Not even a glance. He was out the door on pure instinct.

I followed.

The door to the next room stood wide open.

Lillian was huddled in the corner, clothes disheveled, hair tangled across her face.

The moment she saw Malcolm, she lurched toward him like he was the last solid thing in the world, crashing into his chest, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Malcolm! I just stepped out for some air... they dragged me in here out of nowhere... they tore at my clothes... they touched me..."

"If I hadn't screamed... they would have..."

The rest dissolved. Her whole body was shaking.

Malcolm's eyes went red.

I had never seen him look like that. Not once.

The men in the room stumbled backward, tripping over each other.

"Mr. Delgado! It's a misunderstanding! We didn't know she was yours!"

"If we'd known she was connected to you, we never would have laid a finger on her!"

I noticed Edith Shepherd standing in the corner. One of Malcolm's former lovers.

Her gaze landed on me, cold and steady, and she spoke.

"Mr. Delgado, don't be angry. We were just doing what we were paid to do."

"This whole thing was arranged by your wife."

My heart plummeted. "That's a lie!"

But Edith didn't flinch. She reached calmly into her bag and pulled out her phone.

"Lie or not, why don't we all just listen?"

She pressed play.

My voice filled the room, crisp and unmistakable.

"Have your way with Lillian Henson. Ten million per man, per round."

Every drop of blood drained from my body in a single instant.

"I never said that!" My voice came out strangled. "That audio is fabricated!"

"Prudence... if you don't want me around... you could just tell me to leave!"

Lillian's face was ashen, as though she'd been backed to the edge of a cliff.

She clung to Malcolm's lapels, her voice breaking apart. "Why would you do this to me? You're a woman too..."

"If this is really what you want, I'll go. I'll leave, okay? I'll stay away from Malcolm. I won't be here anymore..."

She seemed to shatter completely, struggling to pull free.

But Malcolm wrapped his arms around her and held tight, his eyes filled with nothing but anguish for her.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. Don't be scared. I'll handle this."

"No one will ever touch you again."

His tenderness was a blade.

Each word carved deeper into the softest place in my chest.

He believed them. He actually believed every word.

I pressed my hands to my face and bent forward, a bitter laugh escaping before I could stop it.

Minutes ago, in that meeting room, his small act of kindness had rekindled something I thought I'd killed. And just like that, it was crushed to dust.

Why couldn't I learn? Why did I never learn?

How could I forget that whenever Lillian was involved, he never once stopped to ask, never once considered another possibility. It was always my fault. Always.

He was no longer the Malcolm who trusted me unconditionally, no matter what.

I forced myself to stay calm, though my voice trembled. "This is a crime. I can call the police. If I did this, I'll face the consequences."

But Malcolm didn't spare me so much as a glance. He simply moved Lillian behind him.

Then he turned to the men, and his voice dropped to something subzero.

"Prudence offered you ten million. I'll give you twenty."

"Sleep with her. Twenty million a round."

I couldn't move. A high-pitched ringing tore through my skull, drowning out everything else.

I thought I'd misheard.

Malcolm looked at me, and there was nothing in his eyes but pure, uncut disgust.

"Prudence Henson, you use filthy tricks like this to hurt someone, and you still think you deserve to be called human? When did you become this depraved?"

"If anything happens to Lillian because of what you've done, you'll answer for it."

He bent down and scooped Lillian into his arms.

Gently. Almost reverently.

"Hospital," he told his assistant.

The door slammed shut.

"Malcolm!"

I threw myself at it, but the lock had already clicked into place.

Edith Shepherd walked up to me, her smile frozen and sharp.

"Didn't see that coming, did you, Mrs. Delgado?"

"Looks like you've joined the list of women he's thrown away."

I stepped back instinctively. The burn on my lower back throbbed with every heartbeat.

The men's eyes found me. No more restraint. No more hesitation.

Like predators watching cornered prey.

Despair rose like floodwater.

Inch by inch, it swallowed me whole.

I regretted everything.

I regretted walking into that studio in college and letting Malcolm Delgado find me.

I regretted falling in love with him after he pursued me.

I regretted saying yes. I regretted marrying him. God, I regretted marrying him.

I was backed against the window. A hand reached for me.

I closed my eyes and let my body fall backward into nothing.

A crash.

Screams and the sound of water erupted at the same time.

Cold swallowed everything.