The day I was admitted to the family’s medical center for a high-risk pregnancy, my husband, Ronan Lucas—the family’s Underboss—had his encrypted phone blow up with 108 frantic calls.

The calls were from Jenna, the daughter of a low-level member.

Lying in the hospital bed, I watched the medication drip from the IV bag and asked if he needed to respond. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "All she does is call me, day in and day out. Doesn't she have a family of her own? Goddamn nuisance."

Then, that same girl sent a photo of herself in a white dress, standing on the rooftop of a rival family's territory.

The caption read: If I fall from here, will I come back as a bird? Maybe then I won’t be a burden to anyone anymore.

Ronan merely glanced at it, then let out a derisive snort, though his fingers unconsciously caressed the screen. "Become a bird? Is she insane? That idiot's going to get herself riddled with bullets on their turf."

Despite his words, he began pacing, on edge, before rushing out of the room. He didn't come back all night.

That night, I hemorrhaged and was rushed into the emergency room.

When the doctor, his hands bloodied, asked if they should do everything they could for the baby, I glanced at the empty space beside me, calmly closed my eyes, and replied, "No. I don't want it anymore."

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1

When the anesthesia from the emergency procedure wore off and I opened my eyes again, it was the following afternoon.

I raised a hand to my now-flat abdomen. My sleeve slid down, revealing the back of my hand, bruised and swollen.

I’d been terrified of needles since I was a child, yet to save our baby, I had gritted my teeth and endured over three hundred hormone injections in the past few months.

However, from the moment I was wheeled into the operating room last night until now, a full twenty-seven hours had passed, and he still hadn't come back.

As if on cue, the encrypted phone on the bedside table vibrated.

It was a short, encrypted voice message from Ronan, but it had nothing to do with my health or the baby's condition. No, it was just a brief complaint, with the sound of wind and a roaring engine in the background.

He said, "Jenna was on that rooftop so long last night she freaked herself out and spiked a fever. Her old man's a gambling addict off dodging his debts, and her brother's a useless bum. I'm the only one left to look after her. Dammit, such a pain in the ass."

He called her a nuisance, but his tone held a trace of tenderness he himself hadn't noticed.

Staring at his profile picture—the Ouroboros seal that symbolized the family's power—I replied, "Understood."

On a whim, I opened the long-blocked inbox.

Sure enough, Jenna had sent a photo. Around her fair neck hung a necklace, its pendant all too familiar to me—it was the Ouroboros signet ring, the mark of his rank in the family, that I had personally placed on his finger the day he became Underboss.

The caption read: He said this is closer to his heart than wearing it on his finger.

The background was a messy king-sized bed, its dark sheets tangled in a heap—a silent testament to the night's activities.

I recognized it immediately. It was the bed in the master bedroom of our penthouse apartment.

A silent, icy smile touched my lips. I changed my phone's wallpaper—our only photo together—to the blueprints of the seaside villa I’d designed for myself before we were married. That had been my original dream.

Less than a minute after I sent my message, my phone rang. It was Ronan.

"Serena, I already explained this. Jenna's situation is special." His voice was laced with an exhausted, self-righteous edge. "She's just a little girl who needs protection. Her father once took a bullet for me. As her guardian, it's my responsibility to look after her. Besides, she's enough trouble as it is. Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

Ah, trouble. That was the word Ronan most often used to describe Jenna.

When the girl was first brought to the family by her father, she didn't even know the most basic rules. She was clumsy and timid, like a frightened fawn, always trailing behind Ronan, asking questions about everything.

Ronan used to complain about her to me constantly, saying she was slow and troublesome, unable to even learn how to load a gun.

He used to share everything about the family's business with me, but at some point, every story he told started to be about her.

"Serena, that girl cut her hand just trying to open a bottle of red wine! I honestly don't know how she's survived this long."

"Jenna delivered the wrong documents today and made me look like a fool during my report to the Don! I swear, one of these days I'm going to make her father take her back!"

He always said he was going to send her away, but to this day, she remained by his side, even climbing into our bed.

Then, I watched as his contact name for her changed from 'Troublemaker' to 'Poor Little Thing'.

Now, with all the clues laid out before me, how could I continue to deceive myself?

I listened calmly, lacking the energy to even argue with him, and just let out a soft laugh. "Mm, I understand."

Clearly, he hadn't expected me to be so calm. He must have thought I was playing some kind of game, so his tone softened. "I'll have Finn buy you your favorite Black Swan cake from Éclat, alright? You know the situation in the East District is tense right now, and I can't get away, so please…"

He didn't finish his sentence. A tearful "Ronan" from Jenna on the other end cut him off. "I'm scared, I think I see a shadow outside the window…"

And just like that, all his attention was stolen away. On the other end of the line, I heard his panicked voice. "What's wrong? Is someone harassing you again? Don't be afraid, I'm here."

Jenna whimpered softly, saying no, it was just a nightmare.

He was frantic with worry, scolding her gently. "You idiot, why didn't you just call for the guards outside?"

"I'm sorry, I've caused you trouble again, Ronan…" Jenna's voice trailed off sorrowfully.

After that, I heard Ronan sigh and continue talking to Jenna, but by then he had pulled the phone away, and his voice became a muffled murmur I couldn't decipher.

Not that I wanted to listen anyway.

Though my abdomen was still cramping from the surgery moments ago, the wave of nausea that rose in my throat like bile at the way he doted on Jenna was so overpowering it snuffed out everything else I felt.

I hung up the phone.

Just then, the doctor pushed open the door and began to remove the IV needle from my hand, his eyes filled with sympathy.

"Mrs. Lucas, you're cleared for discharge. But you've just had major surgery, and your body is extremely weak. You need to focus on resting. Also… your uterus was severely damaged. The chances of you conceiving again are practically zero."

The only response I could muster was a faint, "Mm."

In the armored car on the way back to the penthouse, I forwarded a scanned copy of our marriage contract to my legal counsel, Liam.

I said, "Liam, if the contract is ironclad, please prepare the execution documents as soon as possible. I want this over with, and I want everything that belongs to the Costello family back."

Soon, Liam replied, "Understood."

In the past, to reassure me about our marriage, Ronan had personally drafted this contract, sealing it with a blood oath in the presence of the Don. If he ever betrayed me or stopped loving me, he would forfeit all his legal assets and territorial control, leaving with nothing.

Back then, when he looked at me, his eyes burned with a fiery love, certain he would never break his vow.

Unfortunately, time can erode everything, even the strongest of oaths.

It was six in the evening when I returned home. The air hung heavy with the cloying mix of expensive cigars and cheap perfume. Ronan had clearly brought a guest home last night.

I forced myself to take a shower and took some painkillers to ease the sharp pain in my abdomen. The master bedroom was too filthy for me to touch, so I fell into a groggy sleep in the guest room.

In the middle of the night, the front door was violently thrown open, followed by the sound of urgent, heavy footsteps. The footsteps pounded past the master bedroom, straight to the guest room, and then—BAM!

The door was kicked open, the loud noise jolting me from a nightmare.

The next second, the harsh overhead light flickered on, illuminating Ronan's face, his brow deeply furrowed.

"I'm your husband, Serena! How could you discharge yourself from the hospital without a word? Do you have any idea how many of my enemies are watching you?"

When my eyes finally adjusted to the light, I saw Ronan standing at the door, panting heavily, a crushed dessert box in his hand. His face was a cold mask of blame.

Jenna peeked out from behind him. She was wearing a man's silk shirt that was clearly several sizes too large for her. Her pale face was framed by long, dark hair, and her eyes held an innocent look. The silky fabric concealed nothing underneath, her long, fair legs looming in and out of view, impossible to ignore.

I recognized the shirt immediately; I had designed it for Ronan myself earlier this year.

Ironically, I clearly remembered him telling me just a month ago that the shirt had been ruined in a shootout.

He either didn't realize his lie had been exposed, or he simply didn't care. Without warning, he threw the expensive dessert box at my feet. The delicate cake shattered, and cream splattered onto my ankle, cold and sticky—a bitter reminder of the child I had lost.

Ronan pointed at me and yelled, every word laced with accusation, "How could you leave the hospital without telling me? Didn't you hear the doctor say your condition was critical, that something could happen at any moment?! Serena, grow the hell up! Stop acting like a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum!"

"I've been looking for you for half an hour! Finn turned the entire hospital upside down! Would it have killed you to send a single text?!"

I stared at the cake's remains on the floor, my expression frighteningly calm.

"I was going to inform you, but you were busy comforting Jenna."

Jenna stepped out from behind Ronan, her bare feet padding on the carpet. She gently tugged at the corner of his shirt, her face a mask of guilt as tears instantly welled in her eyes. "Ronan, did I cause trouble for you two again? Serena seems really upset… It's all my fault."

"This has nothing to do with you, Jenna." Ronan soothed her gently, then shot me another glare. "I know you wanted this, so I went to buy it for you as soon as I got Jenna settled. And what happens? The nurse tells me you've already been discharged!"

"I've already told you, Jenna has no one to look after her. I'm just watching over her as her guardian to prevent her from causing more trouble! Why are you blowing this so out of proportion? It's a family obligation!"

He thought I had left the medical center just because he went to care for Jenna. He thought I was just throwing a fit.

Honestly, perhaps I should have thrown the blood-soaked surgical sheet in his face and told him I had miscarried, but I really didn't want to waste my time or energy. After all, there's no point in trying to wake someone who's only pretending to be asleep.

I turned my gaze to Jenna and replied, "Didn't you say she was severely traumatized? Why bring her all the way here instead of letting her rest at the medical center?"

Ronan froze, clearly not expecting me to change the subject so quickly. Then his expression tightened. "There are too many prying eyes there. I don't trust it. It's safer to keep her by my side."

Just then, Jenna chimed in, "I'm sorry, Serena. If it's too much trouble, I'll leave right away… I'll just go back to living in that basement…"

Before I could respond, Ronan said, "Stay. This is my home. You don't need her permission."

As if in retaliation for me leaving the hospital without his permission, he was determined to prove that in this house, his authority superseded mine.

I considered this, then met his cold glare. "Well, the guest room hasn't been cleaned. Since she's your 'responsibility,' she can have the master bedroom."

My tone was entirely sincere, but Ronan clearly didn't see it that way. His face contorted with anger. "How many times do I have to tell you, there's nothing going on between me and Jenna! It's not what you think! She's not the brightest, and her family is unreliable. What's wrong with me taking care of her?!"

"I always thought you were a magnanimous woman, fit to be the wife of the Underboss. But it turns out you're just as jealous and petty as any other woman!"

His expression was full of disappointment, as if I had committed some unforgivable, grave error.

Jenna tugged at his sleeve again, like a frightened little animal. "Ronan, if it's too much trouble, you really don't have to accommodate me… Really! If I've driven a wedge between you two, I'll never forgive myself!"

With that, she turned to leave, but Ronan grabbed her wrist. "There's nothing wrong between us, so there's no need for that. Besides, since Serena already told you to sleep in the master bedroom, you should just stay."

"What about her? Where will she stay?" Jenna glanced at me timidly, but her eyes glinted with a flicker of triumph.

Ronan scoffed, his cold gaze sweeping over my pale face. "She can sleep wherever she damn well pleases. If she wants to throw a tantrum, she can do it alone."

With that, he pulled Jenna out of the room by her wrist, leaving me alone with the sharp, twisting pain in my abdomen.

It was a reminder that this house, a symbol of my status, no longer had a place for me.