I started to pack my things.

Not that I had much to pack.

After nine years, I had bought almost nothing for myself.

The dressing room was crowded with that season’s luxury pieces, all sent over by Joseph’s assistant—nothing but window dressing. I’d never worn a single one.

I took only a few of my own old clothes, a pair of jade bracelets left to me by my mother, and one small, locked box.

Inside were treasures I had once held, and lost forever.

Four years ago, I’d gotten pregnant by accident.

It was our fourth year of marriage. I thought a child might ease the tension between Joseph and me.

When I told him, I was overjoyed. He only grunted a vague “Hmm,” handed me a card, and told me to handle the prenatal checkups myself.

Still, I let hope fill me.

I prepared everything for the baby—tiny clothes, little shoes, even names.

Only Joseph and I knew. My two stepsons didn’t.

But when I was two months along, Jonathan got into a fight at school, and the other child’s parents came to our door.

I went to deal with it. In the commotion, one of the parents shoved me, and I tumbled down the stairs.

When I woke, the baby was gone.

It had already been a tiny being with a heartbeat.

Joseph rushed to the hospital. When he saw me, his first words were, “Where’s Jonathan? Is he hurt?”

In that moment, I knew I had lost—utterly and completely.

Later, I locked away the ultrasound photo of that unborn child, along with all the little things I’d prepared for him, inside this box.

It was the one secret I kept from this marriage.

I was just about to place the box into my suitcase when the bedroom door burst open.

Jonathan charged in, snatched the box from my hands. “What’s this? Stealing something from our house?”

“Give it back!” My face went pale as I reached for it.

Using his height, he held it high over his head, well out of my reach.

“Jonathan, give it back!” My eyes burned with desperation.

“No! You’re a thief!” He grinned triumphantly and shook the box hard.

The latch gave way. The box fell with a thud, scattering its contents across the floor.

The yellowed ultrasound photo, the little embroidered baby shoes, a St. Christopher medal I’d had blessed…

Jonathan froze. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this.

My tears broke free, flooding down my cheeks.

I knelt, trembling hands gathering each item one by one, as if cradling the most precious treasures in the world.

“So… you had a child too?” His voice was rough.

I ignored him, carefully placing everything back and locking the box once more.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled.

It was the first time in nine years he’d said those words to me.

But I didn’t need them anymore.

Some wounds, once made, never heal.

I stood, wiped my tears, and looked at him coldly. “Get out.”

“I—”

“I said get out!” My voice nearly broke with force.

The intensity startled him. He stumbled backward out of the room.

Clutching the box to my chest, I held it as if I could reclaim some shred of warmth.

But I knew—that child, my only hope, was gone forever.

Jonathan’s birthday party became Pamela’s first public move to reclaim her place.

The celebration was extravagantly grand, held on the lawn of the family villa.

Everyone who was anyone in the city attended.

I hadn’t wanted to go, but Aunt Brenda said over the phone, “Allison, go. Say a proper goodbye.”

So I put on a simple black dress, no jewelry, no makeup, and showed up at the banquet hall.

My appearance caused a small stir.

Everyone knew Pamela was back.

They were all waiting to see how I, the “legitimate” Mrs. Joseph, would handle it.

Ignoring the probing stares, I walked straight to a corner, picked up a glass of champagne, and watched quietly.

Pamela wore a custom pink princess gown, her arm linked with Joseph’s, smiling radiantly as she accepted everyone’s well-wishes. Jonathan and Frank stood like two little knights, guarding her on either side.

They looked like a family of four. I was the uninvited guest.

“Isn’t that Allison? How does she still have the nerve to show up?”

“Now that the real one is back, the impostor should just disappear.”

“I heard she only married him for the money. What a gold-digger.”

The whispers reached me. I didn’t care.

Halfway through, a large screen began playing a montage of Jonathan growing up.

From a babbling toddler to his first steps, to wearing a school backpack… At the end, words appeared: “Thank you, Mom. Welcome home.”

Then the lights dimmed, a spotlight falling on Pamela.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you, my darlings. Mommy loves you.”

The room erupted in warm applause.

And in that moment, the screen flickered—and changed.

A series of graphic, obscene photos flashed across the display.

They were the maliciously photoshopped images my rivals had circulated years ago.

Though the rumors had been cleared, those pictures remained like a brand, seared forever onto my name.

The hall plunged into stunned, buzzing chaos.

Every gaze in the room was a dagger, all aimed squarely at me.

Mockery, disdain, gleeful schadenfreude—

I stood frozen, my blood turning to ice. Though my body trembled, I couldn’t move an inch.

After a moment of stunned silence, Jonathan and Frank broke into smug, malicious grins.

Qiao Joe’s face darkened instantly with rage. “Who did this?!” he roared at the security guards. “Turn it off—now!”

The screen finally went black, but the images were already seared into everyone’s memory.

I had become the city’s greatest disgrace.

Pamela walked over to me, wearing a mask of feigned concern. “Allison, are you all right? What in the world was that? How could—”

Before she could finish, Qiao Joe grabbed my arm and yanked me away, dragging me out of the banquet hall.

His grip was iron-tight, fingers digging into my wrist until it ached.

“Qiao Joe, let me go!” I struggled against him.

He shoved me roughly into the car, then climbed in after me. “Drive!” he barked.

The car sped away, leaving the laughter and whispers behind.

Inside, the atmosphere turned suffocating.

“Who told you to dress like that?” he snapped suddenly, his voice thick with fury. “Was this your plan all along—to make me a laughingstock?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

My reputation had just been publicly shredded, and all he cared about was his pride.

“Is your pride really all you see?” A cold laugh escaped my lips.

“What else is there?” he sneered. “Allison, remember your place! You are Mrs. Joe Joe. Everything you do reflects on this family’s name!”

“Not for much longer,” I reminded him.

He faltered for a second, then his anger flared hotter. “Until I sign those papers, you’ll remain Mrs. Joe!”

I closed my eyes, refusing to argue further.

My heart sank, piece by piece.

So this nine-year marriage… for me, it had been a cage. But hadn’t it been a shackle for him, too?

He hated me for occupying the position of Mrs. Joe. He hated me for making him a laughingstock.

He had never loved me.

Not even a little.

Back at the villa, Qiao Joe flung me into the living room before storming off to his study and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

I collapsed onto the sofa like a puppet with its strings cut.

Two months.

My period was two months late.

A wild, terrifying thought shot through my mind.

I didn’t dare dwell on it. I didn’t want to know. I was terrified it would be just another cruel disappointment.

Soon after, Pamela returned, carrying a cup of hot milk with fake sympathy. “Allison, drink this. It’ll help you calm down. About what happened today… I’m so sorry. I have no idea how—”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I cut her off, lifting my head to meet her eyes.

Her gaze flickered for an instant before settling into cool composure. “Allison, how could you think that of me? Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Who else would it be?” I scoffed. “You came back and immediately started trying to push me out, so you could take the title of Mrs. Joe for yourself. Pamela, your tactics haven’t improved one bit in nine years.”

Nine years ago, she was the one behind those doctored photos and vicious rumors.

Jealous of my better resources at the company, she’d paid off a rival’s paparazzo to create the scandal.

I had never told Qiao Joe.

Because I knew, even if I did, he wouldn’t believe me.

In his heart, Pamela would always be that pure, kind-hearted girl who chased her dreams with everything she had.

Pamela’s face paled; then she quickly conjured a look of teary distress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Joe, come quick! Allison has completely misunderstood me…”

She called weakly toward the study.

Of course, Qiao Joe emerged immediately.

Seeing Pamela’s wounded expression, he moved to shield her, glaring at me. “Allison, what’s wrong with you now? Apologize to Pamela!”

“Apologize?” It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “Qiao Joe, are you blind? Can’t you see she’s acting?”

“Enough!” Qiao Joe barked, cutting me off. “I know exactly what kind of person Pamela is! Unlike you—vicious and incapable of change!”

His words were a poisoned blade, thrust deep into my heart.

I looked at him standing there, protecting her, and suddenly I started to laugh.

I laughed until tears streamed down my face.

What had I been hoping for?

That he’d finally see the truth? That he’d stand up for me, just once?

Nine years. I should have given up hope long ago.

“Fine. I’ll apologize.” I stood up, walked over to Pamela, and met her triumphant gaze. Word by word, I said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have exposed you.”

Then I turned to Qiao Joe, my voice eerily calm. “Qiao Joe. We’re done. Completely.”

I didn’t look at either of them again. I turned and walked toward the door.

I couldn’t stand another second in this place.

“Stop!” Qiao Joe’s voice rang out behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your business.”

“Allison!” He rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “I said, until I agree, you’re not going anywhere!”

“Let go!” I struggled with all my strength.

Just then, Pamela let out a sharp cry and collapsed to the floor.

A fresh, bloody gash had appeared on her arm.

At her feet lay a kitchen knife.

“Ah! Blood…” She stared at her wound in horror, then looked up at me with feigned shock. “Allison… why would you do this?”

I was frozen.

I hadn’t touched her!

Qiao Joe’s expression darkened completely. The look he gave me was pure, unadulterated hatred.

“Allison, how dare you hurt Pamela! You venomous witch!”

He shoved me away hard and rushed to scoop Pamela into his arms, his eyes full of tender concern.

The shove sent me staggering. A sharp, stabbing pain lanced through my lower abdomen.

Clutching my stomach, I broke into a cold sweat.

“Joe… my stomach… it hurts…” I managed weakly, reaching out.

He didn’t even glance my way. Holding Pamela, he turned and rushed for the door. “Guards! Lock this madwoman in the basement! She doesn’t come out without my permission!”

Two bodyguards seized my arms, dragging me toward the cold, damp basement.

I stared hopelessly at Qiao Joe’s retreating back until he vanished from sight.

The pain in my abdomen crested, sharp and vicious. I felt a warm, terrible wetness between my thighs.

With that crimson flow, my last hope drained away.

This… was the final straw.

The basement was cold, damp, and utterly lightless.

Sprawled on the icy concrete, I felt the pain in my body and the despair in my heart close over me like a cold, dark wave.

I knew. My child was gone. Again.

This child—whose existence I hadn’t even had time to confirm—had vanished from my life without a sound.

Why?

Why was fate doing this to me?

Curled on the ground, I was torn by waves of cramping pain. My consciousness began to blur.

In the darkness, I seemed to see that night from four years ago once more.

The same cold hospital. The same heart-rending pain.

Joe stood by my hospital bed, his face showing not a trace of grief, only impatience.

"Allison," he’d said, "stop pretending. It was just a miscarriage. Is all this drama really necessary? Jonathan is waiting for me at home."

Then he’d turned and walked away.

From start to finish, he never once asked if I was in pain.

I should have known then. I should have stopped clinging to any illusion about him.

I was too stupid. Too naive.

I thought nine years was enough time to warm even a stone.

But I forgot. Joe’s heart wasn’t stone. It was ice.

Ice that could never be warmed.

"Open the door… let me out…" Using my last shred of strength, I pounded on the cold metal. "Help… save my child…"

My voice was hoarse. The only response was endless darkness and silence.

I don’t know how long it lasted—only that I felt my own life force slowly ebbing away.

Just as I was about to give up, footsteps finally sounded outside.

Was it Joe?

Had he finally come to save me?

A flicker of hope ignited. Struggling up from the floor, I pressed against the door, my voice a weak rasp. "Joe… it’s me… open the door…"

The footsteps stopped outside.

From beyond the door came Pamela’s voice, choked with tears. "Joe, don’t go in… I’m scared… what if she hurts you again?"

Then Joe’s impatient reply. "What can she possibly do to me? Stop making a scene. Wait outside."

He had come.

A ridiculous sliver of expectation still lingered in my heart.

The lock turned. A sliver of light cut in, so bright it stung my eyes.

Joe’s tall frame filled the doorway.

He saw me, covered in blood, and froze. Then his brow furrowed. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I—" I tried to speak, to beg.

But Pamela’s voice rang out again, laced with a desperate finality. "Joe, if you go in there for her today, I’ll die right here in front of you!"

His steps halted.

He glanced back outside, then at me, collapsed in a pool of blood. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face.

That single flicker was all it took to shove me into the abyss.

I looked at him and laughed—a hollow, broken sound.

"Joe," I said, forcing every word out with the last of my strength. "If you dare step out that door today, I, Allison, will act as if I never knew you. There’s no going back from this."

My words seemed to stun him.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable.

In the end, he chose Pamela.

Slowly, he closed the door.

Shutting me, and my unborn child, inside this endless darkness.

With the final, resounding *clang* of the metal door, my world shattered completely.

Joe, you are truly merciless.

With your own hands, you killed your second child.

And with your own hands, you killed the woman who loved you for nine years.

In my last moment of awareness, I thought I heard frantic footsteps and Brenda’s panicked, desperate cry.

"Allison! Allison! Open the door!"

I woke again in a VIP hospital room.

The sharp smell of disinfectant turned my stomach.

Brenda sat by my bed, holding my hand, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Allison, you’re finally awake."

I stared at the ceiling, my gaze empty.

"The baby… is it gone?" My voice was a hoarse stranger’s.

Brenda was silent for a moment, then nodded, tears falling. "I’m sorry, Allison. I was too late."

I closed my eyes. A single tear traced a path from the corner of my eye.

I’d known, hadn’t I?

But hearing it confirmed still felt like having my heart torn in two.

"This is my fault," Brenda choked out. "I never should have dragged you into the mess that is Joe’s Family. I ruined you."

I shook my head, saying nothing.

This was all my own choice. I couldn’t blame anyone else.

The hospital room door opened, and Joe walked in.

Seeing me awake, an unnatural look crossed his face. "You’re awake? How do you feel?"

I didn’t look at him. I just spat out one cold word. "Leave."

His expression hardened, then settled back into its usual arrogant mask. "Allison, I know you’re upset, but don’t forget—you’re the one who caused a scene at Jonathan’s birthday party and stabbed Pamela with a knife. That’s why I—"

*Smack!*

A sharp slap cut him off.

Brenda stood up, trembling, her finger shaking as she pointed at him, eyes full of disappointment and rage. "You monster! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You killed your own child with your own hands!"

Joe was stunned. He held his cheek, staring at his mother in disbelief. "Mom, what are you talking about?"

"I’m saying," Brenda enunciated each word with perfect clarity, "Allison was pregnant! Over two months along! You locked a pregnant woman in a basement and left her to die! Joe, are you fit to be a father? Are you even fit to be called a human being?"

Joe looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. He stood frozen in place.

He stared at me, his lips trembling, but no words came out.

I watched his shock and felt nothing.

It was too late.

Everything was far too late.

"The divorce papers," I said calmly. "I’ve already had my lawyer draft them. Sign them."

Brenda pulled a document from her bag and flung it at him. "Sign! Sign it right now! Joe’s Family has no place for a cold-blooded, heartless creature like you!"

Joe looked at the divorce agreement, then at me. For the first time, panic and fear flashed in his eyes.

"No… I won’t agree…" he muttered. "Allison, I—"

"Joe," I cut him off, my voice devoid of all warmth. "I don’t want to see you anymore. From now on, there is nothing between us. You go your way, and I’ll go mine."

With that, I pulled the covers over my head.

I didn’t want to see his hypocritical face. I didn’t want to hear his disgusting voice.

I just wanted to be alone—to quietly lick my wounds in peace.

I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the hospital room door close.

Brenda sat back down by my bed, gently patting my back. "Allison, it’s over now. From now on, as long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again."

I pushed the covers down and looked at her, forcing a smile uglier than any sob. "Brenda, thank you. And I’m sorry. I couldn’t last until the nine years were up."

"Silly child," she said, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "You’ve already done more than enough. It’s Joe’s Family that failed you."

She took a card from her bag and pressed it into my hand. "There’s some money in here. Take it. Leave the city. Go somewhere no one knows you. Start over."