The livestream had been going for nearly five hours.

The chat flooded the screen:

“So jealous—she’s staying in a $7,000-a-month postpartum recovery center and her husband’s right there with her.”

“Living the dream.”

“Manifesting a husband like that!”

Before Steven took over the Grant Family business, he served in the military. He hated being on camera. When I once asked for just a quick selfie, he shut me down cold with a look.

But here he was, smiling for the camera, streaming live with Nellie for all eyes to see.

Nellie beamed at the viewers. “He’s just really sweet and thoughtful~”

Thoughtful? A sharp ache stabbed at my chest as I wiped the corner of my eye, forcing a smile.

Steven was never that man with me.

I remember once begging him to go see a movie with me. It took ages to convince him. He finally said yes. But during that two-hour film? He slept through 90 minutes.

When he woke up, he rubbed his temples like I’d caused him physical pain. “Spending time with you feels like a waste of mine,” he muttered.

Clearly now, he could be patient, even loving—just not with me. With Nellie, he had all the time in the world.

Then my phone rang. Steven must’ve recognized my WeLiveID on the stream.

“You have 30 minutes,” he said. “Come pick up your mom’s things from the postnatal recovery center.”

By the time I arrived, the livestream had ended.

Nellie greeted me with a bright, fake smile. “Lucia! You came to see me?”

I ignored her. Walked straight to Steven and held out my hand. “Give me the box.”

The easy smile faded from his face, jaw tightening. “Nellie spoke to you. Are you deaf now?”

I gave him a thin smile, then turned to Nellie.

“Congrats, Ms. Owen. You bagged my fiancé, had his baby—what’s next? Climbing the ladder with a baby in your arms?”

Crash!

Steven slammed his teacup onto the floor, shards flying. “If you’ve got nothing decent to say, shut up.”

Suddenly, Nellie clutched her stomach, tears hitting the floor.

Steven tensed immediately. “Nel? What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

She bit her lip, eyes turning red as she cried while looking at me. “Lucia… I never meant to come between you and Mr. Grant,” she said.

“It’s just—the doctors told me this might be my only chance to be a mother. I swear, once my recovery’s over, I’ll leave. I won’t cling to him, I promise.” Then she turned toward the bassinet and stared at the sleeping baby.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart… I brought you into this world without a real family. You’ll never have a father around. But Mommy didn’t do this on purpose… Please forgive me…” She broke down in sobs, shaking, like she was shattered to her core.

Steven turned to me, his eyes dark with fury—like I had personally crushed something fragile.

“You happy now? You made her cry. That make you feel good?”

I laughed bitterly. “Are you seriously buying this performance? That was pathetic. The only thing she’s good at is crying on cue.”

My words lit a fire in him. Without a word, Steven ripped off the pocket watch my mother had left me. My heart dropped.

“No—don’t! Please!”

But Steven didn’t stop. He threw it across the room with full force. The watch hit the ground, shattering into pieces.

I stumbled backward in shock, tripping on the sharp corner of the table. Pain exploded through my hip as I hit the floor, gasping in agony.

Steven let out a scoff, “That’s what you get for running your mouth. Get out. And don’t pull this stunt again—no one’s buying your victim act.”

Nellie rushed to play the saint, glancing at me with faux concern. “Lucia, come on… Mr. Grant might really think you faked that fall…”

I gritted my teeth and glared at her coldly.

Steven saw me glaring at Nellie and yanked me up off the floor.

“Nellie’s milk came in. She’s gone through a pile of dirty clothes. You’re going to wash them. By hand. Then you can leave.”

I jerked my arm free. “Why would I do that?”

He replied, “Because you just bullied her. You owe her an apology.”

I forced myself upright despite the searing pain in my foot. “Keep dreaming.”

His eyes iced over. Without another word, he shoved me into the bathroom.

Bang!

The door slammed behind me—and locked.

“Steven! Are you kidding me?! This is illegal—you're actually locking me in!” I twisted the handle, yanking it hard. “Let me out! Open the door!”

I slammed my palms against the wood. Silence outside. My hand stung from the impact. My foot throbbed with pain.

The room reeked—sour breast milk, dirty laundry and vomit. It was suffocating. I eventually slid to the floor, knees giving out, completely drained.

Then came Nellie’s voice—soft, sugary and fake—muffled through the door.

“Mr. Grant… are you sure this is okay? What if Lucia gets mad at you for this?”

Steven let out a cold laugh. “So what if she does? I’ll sweet-talk her later.”

“Honestly? This is her own fault. If she doesn’t drop that spoiled princess attitude, she won’t last a day married into the Grants.”

“Our family has served in the military for generations. If I weren’t the only heir to the Grant Enterprises, my mother never would’ve let me marry some pampered rich girl with no skills but spending money.”

Nellie’s voice was dripping with fake concern. “Mr. Grant… if you talk about Lucia like that, aren’t you afraid she’ll break off the engagement?”

A pause. Then Steven’s voice came slightly arrogant, “She won’t. She’s got no inheritance, no power, no better options. The Grants are the best she can do.”

He added, “Besides… she loves me like crazy. I bet if I told her to die for me, she’d actually do it.”

I clutched my chest tightly. Never had I imagine Steven would blurt out such words.

The Harts have been in business for generations—which means we’ve always had a target on our backs.

Six years ago, Mom and I were traveling abroad when we were ambushed. A group of armed men grabbed her, pressed a gun to her temple.

I screamed myself hoarse, thinking I was about to watch my mother die.

Then, a sharp crack cut through the air. One clean shot. The man dropped dead on the spot.

That’s when I saw him—Steven—gun still warm in his hand, uniform crisp, broad-shouldered and all sharp lines, moving with lethal precision. He didn’t just save us. He stole my heart that day.

Later, in the back of a military SUV, I saw his face clearly—angular jaw, high-bridged nose, impossibly handsome. I fell in love at first sight.

I chased him for a year before he finally gave in and agreed to date me.

We were together for five years. I hung on his every word. But all of my sincerity was met with betrayal.

It’s almost laughable.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Steven stepped in, saw me crouched on the floor—pale, trembling. His face twisted in annoyance. “It’s just laundry, Lucia. Stop acting pathetic. Who are you trying to guilt-trip?”

The sour burn of bile rose in my throat. I forced it down, swallowing the nausea. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

I started searching the floor—looking for the one thing that still mattered. My mother's pocket watch. It was torn to pieces. I picked them up, one by one.

Behind me, Steven’s voice cut through the silence. “When Nel finishes her recovery, we’re getting married. She’ll move in with us.”

Nellie turned to me, casting me her grateful look. “Lucia, thank you for accepting me and the baby. I’ll never forget your kindness—”

I cut her off, not even sparing her a glance. I turned to Steven, voice cold.

“No. We’re not living together. I’m taking my mother’s things. Text me the door code—I’ll have movers pick up the rest.”

Steven pressed a string of numbers on the lockpad while looking at me with disdain. “You’re making a big scene. But in the end, you’ll come crawling back.”

Nellie tugged gently on his sleeve and said in a meek voice, “Mr. Grant… the bedroom…”

His gaze flickered. Then, without asking, he took her hand and led her into my car.

He then told me, “I’m coming with you. Just to make sure you don’t take anything you shouldn’t.”

I didn’t realize until we got home why he was so insistent on coming back with me.

The second I stepped inside, it hit me. Adult toys scattered across the living room sofa. Candles on the dining table—clearly not the scented kind. Then, in the bedroom, I saw handcuffs bolted to both the headboard and footboard.

The whole place reeked of sex and cheap perfume.

While I was out handling my mother’s funeral, Steven and Nellie were playing house in every corner of my home.

I stepped into the walk-in closet and the shock kept coming. My jewelry was tossed across the floor. Several of my Hermès bags were just… gone.

Nellie trailed behind me, lips curled in a smug little smile. “Lucia, missing anything?”

She wanted a reaction.

Too bad. I simply smiled.

“Mistresses will be mistresses. Petty theft and playing victim—classic moves.”

Her eyes flashed. “You—!”

She suddenly gasped, clutched her stomach and collapsed onto the floor. “Lucia… I haven’t even fully healed from giving birth… Why are you hitting me?!”

Steven stormed in and rushed to her side. He was clearly furious and so he slapped me without warning.

“Lucia! I've spoiled you for too long. You think the world owes you everything?!”

My cheek lit up with pain, swelling almost instantly. Blood rushed to my head. My temples throbbed. I was shaking.

“I didn’t touch her!” I shouted.

Steven didn’t believe me. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the closet, pushing me to the floor.

“Get out. Go home and cry to your family. You can come back once you’ve learned some humility.”

The humiliation burned hotter in me. I couldn't let Nellie got what she wanted. In sudden move, I got up and marched straight over to Nellie and returned the favor.

Smack!

Steven raised his hand again, eyes blazing with rage.

I stood my ground, jaw clenched, staring him down. “That slap? That one was mine.”

Then I soon turned, walking away. My pride in pieces, my eyes burning with tears I didn’t want to cry out.

Outside, the rain was pouring heavily. It pelted down on me as I sank to the ground, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe.

I don’t know how long I sat there. But eventually, I noticed the rain wasn’t hitting me anymore.

I looked up.

Jaxon was standing there, holding an umbrella over me, face drawn with concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just extending a hand where he held an umbrella.

“Lucia. Come on. Let me take you home.”

Back at the Browns’ estate, everything felt achingly familiar. The courtyard, the smell of the garden after the rain… Even the housekeeper, who’d been there since we were kids.

I couldn’t help but think of the past.

Jaxon’s mother and mine had been best friends since they were young; The kind who swore they'd be in-laws someday.

They’d arranged a childhood engagement between us. But back then, I fought with my mom constantly. And because of that, I pushed away everyone close to her—including little Jaxon and Paula, his mother.

By middle school, I had left for Milan to study art.

Jaxon was sent to the UK for business school.

We went our separate ways. And the next time I saw him?

It was at my mother’s funeral.

I was lost in thought when Paula appeared, holding a steaming cup of ginger tea.

Without a word, she pulled me into a tight embrace, “That boy—Jaxon! He let you get soaked like this, huh? Let Mom give him a piece of my mind.”

“Mom?” I blinked, confused.

Jaxon coughed awkwardly, turning his head away. “I’ll go find you something dry to wear.”

As he slipped out of the room, Paula chuckled and handed me the tea.

“Jaxon already told us—said the two of you are getting married soon. So yes, sweetheart, you'd better start calling me Mom.”