“Joseph,” I breathed when the call finally connected. My voice sounded broken even to my own ears. “It’s me. Tell me honestly—do you still want to marry me? If you do… then help me pay the ransom for my daughter. I’ll follow every condition you set.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then he laughed. Slow. Mocking. Cruel enough to make my chest ache.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Joseph said lazily. “Looks like you finally realized you picked the wrong man. So… regretting choosing that jerk over me now?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to stay calm. “If you called just to ridicule me—and not to help—then we should end this conversation right now.”

“Easy, easy,” he replied, his tone shifting though the arrogance never quite left. “Don’t get so worked up, Amara. I said I’d help, didn’t I? But don’t forget what you just offered. Once I step in, you belong to me. No backing out this time. No running.”

“Yes,” I whispered, my throat tight. “Just make sure my daughter comes back alive.”

“Good,” he said softly. “Send me everything you have on the kidnappers. Five days. Be ready—I’ll come for you myself.”

The call disconnected.

I stared down at my phone, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Every instinct screamed at me to call back, to cancel, to flee from the deal I had just made. But what alternative did I have? Being bound to the man I once called my enemy was still better than trusting the husband who had already chosen another woman over our child.

My thoughts drifted backward, to all the years I had wasted believing in the wrong person.

Back in college, I had been naïve—so sure of my feelings. I loved Aldrin first. With everything I had. When my father proposed the marriage to merge our companies, I didn’t hesitate for even a second. I thought fate was on my side. I believed Aldrin loved me the same way.

For a while, he played the part well. He was attentive, charming, gentle. The ideal partner.

Until he wasn’t.

Late nights became routine. Excuses piled up. Perfume on his clothes that wasn’t mine. Lies stacked on top of lies. And then there was Bianca—my closest friend. The betrayal should have been my breaking point. I should have left then. But I stayed. For Sienna.

Now I knew the cost of that choice. And my daughter was paying for it.

When I returned home, the house felt hollow, like all the warmth had been drained from it. I gripped the edge of the dining table, breathing hard, trying to keep myself upright.

That was when I heard heels approaching.

Bianca appeared, standing confidently in my home, one hand resting on her stomach, satisfaction written all over her face. Moments later, Aldrin followed her in, his hand brushing her arm with a familiarity that made my stomach twist.

“What is she doing here?” I snapped.

“She’ll be living here for now,” Aldrin replied casually. “And you’ll be preparing her meals.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re responsible for putting the baby at risk,” he said coldly. “You should make up for it.”

“I won’t,” I said, my voice shaking with anger.

His gaze turned sharp. “That wasn’t a request, Amara.”

I stepped back, my chest aching. “I’m done. Let’s end this. I want a divorce.”

He blinked, then laughed harshly. “Divorce? That’s your move? Over something this small?”

“You know damn well this isn’t small!” I yelled. “Sienna has been taken! Instead of helping me, you froze my money—you did nothing!”

Aldrin scoffed. “Are you even sure they really have Sienna? What if it’s all a trick? Or worse—what if you’re using her to get money from me?”

I felt like I’d been slapped. “How can you say that?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why not? You’re just like your father. He scammed me and disappeared. Maybe you’re no different—using the child to manipulate me.”

His words sliced through me. I could barely breathe.

Before I could respond, Bianca spoke softly, pretending concern. “Please… if this is because of me, don’t fight.”

Aldrin turned on me instantly. “This is entirely her fault. If she had been a better mother, Sienna wouldn’t be missing.”

My knees nearly gave out.

Then the butler rushed in, his face pale as he held out a small package. “A delivery… for you, sir.”

Aldrin opened it.

Bianca screamed.

I collapsed.

Inside was a severed toe. Small. Wrapped in cloth. Bloody.

“Sienna…” My sob tore out of me as I fell to the floor.

Aldrin’s phone buzzed. He played the video. Sienna’s cries filled the room, broken and terrified. “Mommy… help me…”

Then the kidnapper spoke. “No money. No mercy.”

I looked up at Aldrin, desperation consuming me. But he only shrugged.

“That’s too much money,” he said flatly. “I’m not paying. If we ignore them, they’ll give her back.”

I stared at him in horror. “She’s your daughter!”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around Bianca. “I already have another child.”

They walked away together.

And I stayed there on the cold marble floor, realizing the truth at last—Aldrin had already erased me. Bianca was no longer a secret. She was his future.

And I was nothing at all.

My phone vibrated while I sat on the floor beside the bed, my back slumped against the mattress, my body emptied out by hours of crying. I wiped my face and forced myself to look at the screen.

Joseph.

Relax, the message read. That was only a test. I wanted to see if your husband would do anything. He didn’t. That tells you everything. Divorce him. Understood? Sienna is with me. She’s safe. Not a single scratch on her.

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.

Then relief hit me all at once—so overwhelming it nearly crushed me again. Sienna. My baby. Alive. Safe. Out of their hands.

My fingers trembled as I typed my reply. Then do this for me, Joseph. Make everyone believe my daughter is dead. Make them think I’m dead too. I don’t want him anywhere near our lives ever again. Not after this. Not after everything he’s done.

The response came almost immediately. Done. I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you soon, love.

Love.

The word made something twist inside me, but I ignored it. Feelings didn’t matter anymore. Only freedom did. Only Sienna’s safety. I would accept whatever price came with that.

I set the phone aside and grabbed a suitcase from the closet. My movements were fast, mechanical—clothes shoved in without care, shoes tossed on top, jewelry swept from drawers. Each zip of the bag felt like sealing shut a chapter of my life I never wanted to reopen.

Then a voice sliced through the room.

“I’m really sorry about your baby,” Bianca said softly from the doorway, her tone dripping with fake sympathy.

I stiffened, my hands pausing mid‑fold.

“But honestly,” she went on, walking in like she belonged there, “you can’t blame him for doubting you. Especially after what your father did. You should’ve been honest about his scam from the start. Secrets always come back to bite.”

I kept my back turned, folding another dress with shaking hands. She was baiting me. I refused to snap.

Still, anger burned hot in my chest. My father’s sins were never mine. I had spent my whole life paying for mistakes I didn’t make. Why was I still being punished for his past? And why did she think she had the right to throw it in my face?

She moved closer, fingers reaching for my clothes. “So you’re leaving?” she said with a light laugh. “That’s for the best. You really don’t belong here anymore. Let me help you pack.”

“I don’t need you,” I said sharply, finally turning to face her. “Leave. I can do this myself. And don’t pretend—I know every word out of your mouth is an act.”

She ignored me and stepped farther into the room, touching things that weren’t hers.

Then her arm brushed the side table.

The vase tipped.

It shattered the moment it hit the floor.

My breath caught painfully in my chest.

Not that vase.

It was Sienna’s—the one she had made at school with her tiny hands, the one she painted herself, the one she won first prize for. My daughter’s proud little creation. Gone in pieces.

Something inside me snapped.

I shoved Bianca away, my voice breaking. “What is wrong with you? I told you not to touch anything!”

She stumbled back and immediately screamed, loud and theatrical. “Aldrin!”

Heavy footsteps rushed toward us. Aldrin appeared in the doorway, his eyes sweeping the scene. “What’s going on?”

“I was only trying to help,” Bianca said quickly, tears welling up on command. “The vase fell by accident. She got angry and pushed me.”

“That’s a lie!” I cried. “She knocked it over—I told her to leave my things alone!”

Aldrin’s stare hardened. “Over a stupid vase? Are you serious?”

“That wasn’t just a vase,” I shouted. “Sienna made that with her own hands—”

“Then why are you packing?” he cut in, suspicion sharpening his voice. “Planning to disappear, Amara? Is this because you found out I agreed to pay half the ransom?”

My heart stuttered. “You… you agreed?”

“Yes,” he said coldly. “And now you’re acting innocent? Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to run.”

“No—I swear I didn’t know—”

“I don’t trust you,” he snapped. “And frankly, Sienna might not even be mine. Who knows what you’ve been doing behind my back?”

The words stole the air from my lungs. “No! I would never—”

“Enough!” His face darkened. “You need to be taught a lesson. Since you like playing games with me, you’ll never see that child again.”

Fear exploded through me. I tried to retreat, but men appeared in the doorway, blocking my escape.

“Take her,” Aldrin ordered flatly. “Pull out her toenails. Slowly. Let her feel the same pain. Let her suffer.”

“No—please!” I screamed as they grabbed me. “Aldrin, stop! Don’t do this!”

He didn’t even flinch.

The first wave of pain was blinding. They pinned me down, my scream tearing out as one nail was ripped away. My voice echoed through the house, raw and broken.

“Help me!” I sobbed. “Please—someone help me!”

No one came.

Bianca watched in silence. Aldrin’s face remained cold, detached, as if my agony meant nothing.

The second nail. Then another. Each one sent fire shooting through my body, my sobs turning into hoarse gasps. My throat burned from screaming until sound barely came out at all.

And then everything went black.

When I finally woke, pain pulsed through every nerve in my body. My feet were wrapped in bandages, my limbs weak and shaking. But through the haze, one thought kept me grounded.

It’s almost over.

Just a little longer. Just endure a few more days.

Soon, I would disappear.

And I would never look back.

I woke up drenched in heat, my skin burning—not with anger this time, but with fever. My body ached all over, every joint stiff, every breath rough and shallow. The agony in my toes from that savage punishment hadn’t faded; it throbbed constantly, making it nearly impossible to stand, let alone walk properly.

The days blurred together after that. I drifted in and out of consciousness, half‑awake, half‑lost in fever dreams. And through it all, one thing never changed.

Aldrin never came.

Not once did he open my door. Not once did he ask if I was alive.

Through the fog of illness, sounds from outside my room crept in. Bianca’s sharp, delighted laughter. Aldrin’s deep, amused voice. Sometimes the laughter twisted into something worse—soft moans in the dead of night, sounds that clawed at my chest and left me shaking. I pressed my face into the pillow, biting back sobs, forcing myself to sleep. I told myself my body needed rest. My heart needed numbness. I couldn’t afford to feel anymore.

But peace never lasted long in that house.

One afternoon, I jolted awake to a harsh, choking smell. Smoke.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs. I dragged myself out of bed, clutching the wall to stay upright, my legs trembling beneath me. Step by step, I made my way down the hallway and out toward the back garden.

What I saw stole the air from my lungs.

Fire.

Tall flames devoured heaps of fabric—my dresses, my books, boxes of memories. Sienna’s toys. Her stuffed animals. Everything reduced to ash.

“What are you doing?!” I screamed, stumbling forward as heat scorched my skin. “Stop! Those are my things!”

The maid wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her hands shook as she dropped another box into the fire.

“Miss… I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It wasn’t my choice. Miss Bianca ordered it. She said she didn’t want to see your belongings around anymore.”

I went still.

Of course. Bianca. Taking my husband wasn’t enough—she wanted to erase me completely.

I turned away, ready to let it all burn. None of it mattered anymore… until something caught my eye.

A thin silver chain shimmered briefly in the flames.

My breath hitched.

My mother’s necklace.

The one thing she gave me before she died. The last thing she pressed into my palm, whispering, This will keep you safe.

“No!” I cried out, rushing forward. The heat seared my hands as I reached into the fire, yanking the necklace free just before it vanished. Smoke stung my eyes, but it wasn’t smoke that made them burn.

It was fury.

I stormed back inside, clutching the necklace tightly, and found Bianca lounging in the living room like she owned it. One hand rested on her rounded belly, her posture relaxed, victorious.

“Why?” My voice shook as I faced her. “Why did you burn my things? That necklace was my mother’s.”

She looked up slowly, blinking in false surprise. “Oh, that old thing? I thought it was worthless. Honestly, Amara, you left so much junk lying around. How was I supposed to know what was important? I was just cleaning up.”

“Cleaning?” I snapped. “This is my house. You had no right—”

“Enough.”

Aldrin’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He stepped in, eyes cold, uninterested. “Stop arguing over trivial things. Amara, clean up this mess. I’m hosting guests tomorrow. I want everything perfect.”

I stared at him, disbelief rushing through me. “You want me to clean? After what she did? After everything you’ve allowed—”

“I wasn’t asking,” he interrupted flatly. “I’m giving you an order.”

Something finally broke.

“No,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I won’t. I’m not your servant, Aldrin. Not anymore. If you want this place spotless, do it yourself.”

Before he could respond, the butler hurried in, pale and visibly shaken, holding a small parcel wrapped in plain paper.

“S‑Sir… this just arrived.”

Aldrin grabbed it and ripped it open.

What fell out made my world tilt.

A small, blood‑soaked bundle hit the floor. Tiny arms.

My scream tore out of me. “Sienna!”

My knees gave way as tears flooded my vision. Somewhere deep inside, I knew—it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. She was safe. But I let myself fall apart anyway. I let the hysteria consume me. I wanted him to see it. I wanted guilt to pierce that stone heart of his.

Aldrin swore under his breath and unfolded the note attached to the package. His jaw tightened as he read aloud:

One hundred million. Final warning. Or the child dies.

His phone chimed. A video began to play.

Sienna’s face filled the screen. Bound. Crying. Calling for me in her small, broken voice. A masked man growled, “Pay—or we cut more.”

My legs shook as I reached for the phone, but Aldrin yanked it away.

Then—he sighed.

“As expected,” he muttered. “Another trick of yours. Just admit it, Amara. You’re behind this. These men are working for you.”

I stared at him, stunned. “Are you out of your mind? You think I’d harm my own child?”

Bianca’s voice slipped in sweetly, poisoned. “Well… didn’t you say once that your family needed money? Maybe your father planned this. And you’re helping him.”

My body went cold.

My father. The name they always used to stab me.

Aldrin’s eyes narrowed. “That makes sense. Like father, like daughter. Both con artists.”

The room spun. I couldn’t breathe. They were accusing me—again—while my child was suffering. While the man they hated had already saved her.

“Fine,” I said at last, my voice empty. “Believe whatever you want. If you’re willing to let Sienna die, then do it. At least I won’t be chained to a man like you anymore. You’ve done nothing but fail me, Aldrin.”

I turned away before my legs collapsed beneath me.

Back in my room, I fell onto the bed, clutching my mother’s necklace as silent tears soaked the sheets. My choice was already clear.

I reached for my phone and dialed a number I’d kept for years.

When the call connected, my voice was calm for the first time in days.

“Hello, counselor. This is Amara. I want to file for divorce.”