After that night, I got seriously sick. I vomited blood and passed out in the middle of the night.

Ken was terrified. He pulled together the best medical team he could find to save me.

"Babe, as long as you get better, I'll do whatever you say. I'll be the best husband ever. I swear."

For a while after that, he really did rein himself in. Bianca left his company, too.

Life seemed to slip back into what it used to be. The three girls were thrilled their dad was home more often.

But that illusion was shattered a few days ago. I was on my way home from the hospital after taking care of Whitney when I ran into Ken. He was with all three girls and Bianca, eating at a newly opened trendy restaurant.

Through the huge glass window, I saw Ken and Bianca feeding each other using their mouths.

My three daughters sat across from them, giggling.

"Mom, Dad, you two are so embarrassing!"

It felt as if I had been struck by lightning. The three girls I had raised all by myself were calling another woman "Mom".

Suddenly, it started pouring. I couldn't remember how I made it home.

When the girls came back later and saw me soaked to the bone, they looked at me with open disdain.

"Why do some moms look so classy, while some are just embarrassing?"

They had said things like that before. I had thought they were talking about other parents at school.

Now, I finally understood. They were comparing me to Bianca. They liked her more.

That realization hurt worse than finding out Ken cheated. After all, these were the children I had raised myself.

I forced back my tears, my voice rough when I spoke, "I'm your real mother. If you're calling someone else Mom, then don't call me Mom anymore."

I clung to the last bit of hope and waited for their answer.

Carly shot me a look full of disgust. "You always pretend you're so tough. No wonder Dad doesn't like you."

Trista snorted. "Fine, we won't call you Mom. I don't even want to. We already have a new one."

Queenie was still young. She just echoed them. "If they don't call you Mom, then I won't either."

I stared at the three faces in front of me, all looking so much like Ken's, and let out a soft laugh.

I was soaked and shaking from the cold as I turned and went into the bathroom without another word.

After dropping the kids off, Ken left again. He had the staff pass along a message saying he would be working through the night.

I didn't even have the strength to call and question him anymore. That night, I vomited blood again and passed out.

Through the haze, I heard the staff panicking.

Someone was calling Ken. "Mr. Bowen, Mrs. Bowen collapsed again after vomiting blood. Please come home now!"

There was a pause on the other end.

Then, I heard Bianca's voice.

"Ken, hurry up. We haven't tried this new toy yet."

Ken snapped into the phone, impatient and sharp. "What is she pulling now? This is getting ridiculous. Don't bother with her. I want to see if she actually dies this time."

The staff sent me to the hospital anyway.

Ken didn't show up until early morning.

The red marks on his neck were impossible to miss, as if someone wanted them to be seen.

When he noticed my eyes fixed on his neck, he yanked the IV needle out of my hand.

"Linette, look at you, playing games now. You really think you can fool me? This doesn't make me feel sorry for you. It just makes me sick. Since you won't behave, I'm cutting off Whitney's medical care."

He pulled out his phone and called his assistant.

I panicked.

"No, please don't!" I cried. "Whitney just finished surgery. If you stop her treatment now, it'll kill her."

Ken knew exactly how much Whitney meant to me. And yet, just to punish me, he still cut off the medical payments.

Ignoring my pleading, he finished the call and went back to work, as if nothing had happened.

I dragged my weak body to his office anyway, forcing myself to go beg him in person.

The moment I stepped inside, I realized Bianca had returned. Not only that, she was now the vice president.

That position had been empty all this time. Back then, to thank me for staying home and supporting him, Ken had promised me, "The VP spot will always be yours. Once the kids are grown, you'll come work at the company as vice president."

I never imagined that the position he once promised me would be given to another woman.

Ken froze for a moment when he saw me, but he quickly recovered.

Bianca walked around the desk and sat down on his lap, looking at me with open mockery.

"You want to beg me to save Whitney?" Ken sneered. "You ruined our fun that day. Bianca's still angry. You're better off begging her. As long as she forgives you, I'll save your sister."

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood.

Ken watched me like a predator, waiting patiently for my choice.

I hesitated for barely a second before groveling in front of Bianca.

"Please forgive me. I'm really sorry!"

My humiliation sent Bianca into loud laughter. Right in front of me, she grabbed Ken's hand and slid it under her blouse.

Ken's eyes went red as he muttered softly, "You little tease."

In that moment, something inside me died completely.

After laughing enough, Bianca finally spoke again.

"I have to admit that was entertaining. Let's try something else. Slap yourself a thousand times, and I'll let it go."

I clenched my teeth and did it. Over and over.

The sharp cracks echoed in the room. My cheeks burned, tears spilling before I could stop them. By the end, my arms were trembling, my body hollowed out, as if there was nothing left inside me.

"I'm bored now," Ken said.

He waved his hand and told his assistant to transfer the money to the hospital account.

I quietly left the office. Just before I closed the door, I saw Ken looking at me in surprise.

At the time, I only had one thought. It didn't matter how much I suffered, as long as Whitney could keep getting treatment.

After I asked for the divorce and left the apartment, I threw away that wish coin and went straight to the hospital to stay with Whitney.

She wasn't doing well. The surgery prognosis was grim.

What I never expected was that just one week after my divorce, Whitney passed away.

The only thing tying me to this world was gone. I couldn't see a reason to keep living.

On the day she was cremated, I carried her ashes back to our hometown. In my family’s empty old house, I placed her urn beside our parents'.

Left without a single attachment, I set the house on fire.

The next morning, Ken's phone rang.

"Mr. Ken Bowen? I'm calling from the hospital. Your wife set her house on fire last night. Please drop by as soon as possible."