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.”

“Hello, this is Amara speaking. I want to proceed with filing for a divorce.”

The silence on the other end stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, the kind that makes your chest tighten even when your decision is already carved in stone.

“Ms. Amara,” the lawyer finally replied, his tone measured, hesitant. “I need to be clear with you. If you legally separate from Mr. Aldrin, you walk away with nothing. The house will remain his. The company shares stay with him. Even the vehicles under his name—you won’t be entitled to any of it.”

I shut my eyes and let his words settle. Nothing.

Strangely, it no longer frightened me.

What was there left to lose, anyway? Not after the man who promised to protect me became the one who ordered my pain. Not after he stood by while I was broken and called it discipline. Not after he refused to save the very child we created together.

“That’s fine,” I replied calmly, even as my heart thundered against my ribs. “I don’t want anything from him. Send the papers tomorrow—on our wedding anniversary. Let it be my present to him.”

Before he could say another word, I ended the call.

My hands were still shaking when I dialed Joseph’s number. He picked up immediately, his voice brisk and alert.

“I need to know,” I said, swallowing hard. “Where’s Sienna? Is she truly safe?”

There was movement on his end, then his voice softened. “Talk to her.”

A second later, the sound I’d been aching for filled my ears.

“Mommy?” Sienna’s tiny voice trembled, soft and unsure, like she was afraid I might disappear again.

Tears blurred my vision instantly. “Baby… Mommy’s here. Are you hurt? Did anyone scare you?”

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Why can’t I come home? Why aren’t you with me?”

I pressed my lips together, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Because Mommy is fixing something important, sweetheart. But I promise—very soon, we’ll be together again. You just have to be brave for a little while longer, okay?”

“Promise?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“I swear it,” I said softly. “Mommy will never leave you. Just wait for me.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

My chest broke open. “I love you too, Sienna. More than anything in this world.”

The call went quiet, and then Joseph came back on the line. “You heard her. Satisfied now?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you. I just needed to know she was real… that she was okay.”

“Good,” he replied. “Then don’t forget our agreement. Tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I will,” I whispered, ending the call and pressing the phone against my chest like it was my last lifeline.

But the peace didn’t last.

A voice behind me sliced through the air. “Who were you talking to just now?”

I turned sharply.

Aldrin stood in the doorway, his eyes sharp, suspicious, already accusing.

I forced my lips into a smile. “I’m making funeral arrangements for Sienna. Since you won’t help me, I figured this is how it ends.”

His jaw tightened. “So that’s it? You’re giving up on her instead of begging me?”

My breath came uneven. “You want me to beg? For our daughter?”

“Yes,” he said coldly, stepping closer. “If this isn’t one of your tricks, then prove it. Kneel. Kiss my shoes if you have to. Show me you’re innocent.”

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “No. I’m done humiliating myself for you.”

I brushed past him, but his voice boomed behind me. “You’re walking away from me now?”

“Yes,” I answered without turning back. “Because you don’t deserve to be Sienna’s father.”

His mouth curved into something ugly. “Suit yourself. At least she won’t inherit anything. And you—” his eyes dragged over me with venom “—you won’t give me another child anyway. After Sienna, you’re barren. So really, this is your loss. You’re nothing to me now.”

The words cut deep, but I lifted my chin. “Then you won’t miss me when I’m gone.”

Before he could say more, Bianca’s shrill scream echoed from the hallway.

“Aldrin! Please—my stomach hurts! Take me to the hospital!”

His attention snapped to her instantly, panic flooding his face. “If you leave this house, Amara,” he warned over his shoulder, “your punishment will be worse. Make sure everything is ready by tomorrow. Important investors are coming. Don’t disappoint me again.”

I smiled tightly. “Of course.”

He rushed away with Bianca clinging to him, leaving me alone among the wreckage of a marriage that had long since died.

But I didn’t prepare for his investors.

Instead, I canceled every supplier. I walked into his office, copied his presentation onto a flash drive, and erased the original from his laptop. If Aldrin wanted chaos, I would make sure he drowned in it.

By sunrise, I was gone.

Joseph’s black car arrived at dawn. He stepped out, smug and confident, like a man who already knew the ending. “Ready to leave?”

I nodded, gripping my bag tightly.

The moment I stepped onto the private plane, my legs gave out.

Sienna was there.

“Mommy!” she cried, running straight into my arms.

I collapsed onto the floor with her, holding her as tightly as I dared, tears soaking into her hair. “You’re safe… Mommy’s got you. You’re safe now.”

Behind us, Joseph’s voice carried, amused and triumphant. “Welcome back to me, Amara. Just remember—freedom always has a cost.”

For once, I didn’t care.

Sienna was with me. That was all that mattered.

Before the plane took off, I pulled out my phone and stared at it for a long moment. Then I removed the SIM card, my hands trembling, and flung it out of the open window just before the engines roared to life.

Aldrin’s POV

The sterile white walls of the hospital felt suffocating. Bianca lay on the bed, her face scrunched in pain, her hand clutching her stomach. I paced beside her, restless. The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, flipping through charts with an irritating calmness.

“Mr. Jones,” he said finally, lowering his glasses. “We’ve run the tests. There’s nothing wrong with her. The baby is fine. No complications.”

My brows knitted together. “Nothing wrong? Are you sure?” I looked at Bianca, then back at him. “She’s in pain. She said her stomach hurts. Don’t just tell me it’s nothing.”

The doctor sighed. “It’s likely stress. Or indigestion. Or maybe just a reaction. We’ll keep her here for monitoring, but physically, she and the baby are healthy.”

I turned to Bianca, my jaw tightening. Something didn’t sit right. Her face was pale, her lips trembling—yet it reminded me too much of before, the same theatrics she pulled the last time she thought I was drifting away.

“Are you playing with me?” I asked, my voice low, dangerous.

Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “What? Of course not! Why would I ever play with you?” Her voice broke, almost offended. “Aldrin, my tummy really hurts. Why would I lie about that?”

I leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. Maybe because you saw me talking to Amara? Is that it? Are you trying to get my attention because I was busy with her, or did you think I was actually caring for her again? If that is, stop it. I know you!”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re getting mad at me—because of Amara? Because you thought I was making this up? Well, I’m not, so are you serious right now?” She raised her voice, sitting up straighter despite the supposed pain. “Aldrin, she’s not even here. And you’re thinking of her? What about me? What about our baby?”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down. “No, that’s not what I mean.” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “She was supposed to arrange everything at the house for the investors, that is why I am talking to her, and I being here doesn’t help because I need to be there to check. Everything needs to be ready. I can’t waste time here.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “And what about me?”

“You can handle yourself,” I muttered, already standing. “The doctor said you’re fine. I need to go. You can handle yourself… and I’ll just come back once you're discharged,”

Her hand shot out to grab my wrist, but I pulled away. Her voice cracked behind me as I left. “Aldrin, don’t you dare walk out on me!”

But I was already gone.

When I arrived at the house, the first thing that hit me was the silence. The place was dark, no lights, no sound of workers preparing, no clatter of glasses or footsteps. Just stillness.

“What the hell is going on?” I barked, storming inside. My shoes echoed against the marble floors, the grand chandelier above unlit, casting the room into shadows.

The butler hurried after me, looking nervous.

“Why is the place dark? Where’s everyone?” I demanded.

“I-I don’t know, sir…”

“You don’t know?” My voice thundered through the hall. “Are you insane? Then start knowing! Find out what the hell is happening right now!”

We scoured the rooms. Nothing. Not a single staff member. The house was in chaos, furniture unpolished, dishes unwashed. My stomach churned as I realized the investors were due in mere hours, and the house looked like a deserted ruin.

I pulled out my phone, dialing Amara’s number. Straight to voicemail. Again. And again. No answer.

My rage boiled. Where the hell was she? This was her responsibility. She couldn’t even do one thing right.

Then the butler returned, holding a folded note. “Sir… I found this.”

I snatched it from his hands. The handwriting was unmistakable.

“Sir, Ms. Amara said we could all have the night off. She dismissed us.”

My grip tightened, the paper crumpling in my hand. “She dismissed them? On the eve of the most important night of the year?!” I threw the note across the room. “Damn it, Amara!”

Before I could rage further, the doorbell rang. Relief flickered for a second. Maybe it was her. Finally.

I yanked the door open.

It wasn’t her.

A delivery boy stood nervously, holding a medium-sized box. “Package for Mr. Jones.”

I tore it from his hands, shoving him away before slamming the door. Setting it on the table, I ripped it open.

My world stopped.

Inside was an urn. Cold, gray, heavy. And a letter taped to the side.

“Since you failed to deliver the money, here are the ashes of your daughter.”

My knees weakened. The room spun.

“No…” My voice cracked. My hands trembled violently as I held the urn. “No, this isn’t real… this is a joke. A sick joke.”

My breath came in shallow gasps. My daughter. Sienna. My baby girl.

Dead?

I refused to believe it. They were bluffing. They had to be. Kidnappers used fear—it was their weapon. They wouldn’t just kill her. They wouldn’t—

But what if they had?

“No,” I muttered, shaking my head over and over. “She’s not dead. She can’t be. They’ll give her back. They’ll—”

My phone rang, jolting me. Unknown number. I answered immediately, voice ragged. “Hello? Sienna? Is she alive?”

The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm. “Is this Mr. Aldrin Jones?”

“Yes!” I snapped. “Why are you calling me?”

“This is the police,” the officer replied. “We’re calling to inform you that Mrs. Amara Jones has been found dead. Her car collided with a twelve-wheeler truck earlier this evening. I’m… I’m sorry.”

The phone slipped from my grip, crashing to the floor.

Amara.

Dead.

Sienna. Gone.

The urn felt like fire in my hands, yet I couldn’t drop it. My breath came in broken sobs, rage and denial warring inside me.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not to me.

Not like this.