Three months pregnant, Jillian Channing received the divorce papers from her husband, Arthur Johnson.

"Lilah was disfigured saving me, and her lifelong wish has always been to marry me. I want to fulfill that wish for her."he said.

"But don't worry. In my heart, only you are my wife."

"Stay at the house in the northern suburbs for a while. Look after yourself and the baby. I'll find the best doctors for Lilah's reconstructive surgery. Once she recovers, I'll send her away."

Wrapped in his arms, Jillian listened as Arthur rambled on about how he'd make it up to her after they remarried, but she felt cold all over.

His embrace felt the same as always, yet it no longer brought her any warmth.

She pulled away from him and calmly signed the divorce agreement.

Staring at her indifferent face, Arthur suddenly felt insecure and hugged her tighter.

"Jill, you're not going to leave me, are you?"

Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and, too impatient to wait for her answer, grabbed the divorce papers and rushed out the door.

Jillian watched him leave, then slowly took out her phone and dialed a number.

"Mom, I've made up my mind. I'm coming overseas to be with you and Dad."

An orphan adopted by Teresa Fraser, Jillian was left with nothing but Arthur when Teresa passed away two years ago.

He believed she had nowhere to go after leaving him. That was why he had hurt her without hesitation.

But what he didn't know was that a week ago, Jillian's biological parents had reached out, asking her to move abroad and reunite with the family.

She hadn't even had a chance to share this happy news with him before his divorce papers arrived.

She'd once promised—if he didn't leave, she'd stay by his side for life.

And if he broke her heart, she'd be out of his life for good.

Jillian went to the passport agency to apply for a passport.

The clerk handed her the receipt with a professional smile, "Ms. Channing, your passport should be ready in about seven business days. We'll text you with updates."

Jillian had spent seven years loving Arthur, only for it to take seven days to walk away forever.

She gripped the receipt, thanked the staff quietly, and headed home in a cab to start packing.

When she arrived, she saw a mountain of boxes and bags piled outside the front door. Looking closer, she realized it was all her belongings.

Delilah, dressed in a white dress, was instructing the housekeeper.

"These eyesores should have been thrown out ages ago. Be thorough—don't leave so much as a scrap of paper behind."

Jillian frowned and hurried over. "What are you doing? Stop it! How dare you touch my things?"

Delilah shrank back at the sight of her, hiding behind Arthur and mumbling an explanation.

"Ms. Channing, I'm sorry. You're pregnant, and I figured it might be a bit much for you to pack alone. So I thought I'd help. I didn't know you still needed these."

Arthur stepped in front of Delilah protectively, frowning at Jillian.

"Lilah was only trying to help. Why are you being so harsh? This is all junk anyway. The new things are already at the villa in the suburbs."

Jillian stared at him in disbelief.

Seven years ago, when Teresa's health was failing, Jillian worked odd jobs to pay for tuition and Teresa's medical bills.

One day, on her way to class, she ran into Arthur, drunk and collapsed on the street, nearly freezing to death. He had been trying to drown his sorrows after the Johnson Group went bankrupt.

She had encouraged him and stayed by his side as he rebuilt his life and his family business.

The silver bracelet lying by his left hand was the first gift he ever gave her, bought after he landed his first business deal.

The gray scarf under his feet was the one she'd knitted herself. When she gave it to him, he'd spun her around in delight, promising to wear it for the rest of his life.

The torn, trampled letters were the very ones Arthur had sent her from every business trip—each word a testament to his profound longing.

Each item was a token of a treasured memory they had shared.

But now, he called them all junk.

When Jillian didn't respond, Delilah piped up, "Ms. Channing, do you still want any of this?"

Jillian shook her head, her voice rough. "No, I don't."

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Delilah's eyes before she instructed the housekeeper, "Since Ms. Channing doesn't want these, burn them all."

Only then did Arthur realize that everything on the ground was what Jillian had lovingly displayed in the glass cabinet.

She used to lean against his chest, laughing, saying that when they grew old, these things would be a reminder of the deep love they had shared.

Arthur's expression changed, and he instinctively wanted to stop the housekeeper.

But Delilah smiled at him. "It's just trash, Artie. You don't mind, do you?"

Arthur bit back the words on the tip of his tongue and finally said, "As long as you're happy."

He glanced at Jillian, whose face was pale.

"There will be plenty of new memories to make," he told himself. "We still have a long life ahead."

Jillian stood silently, watching the housekeeper burn everything she'd cherished.

All those memories turned to ash, and with them, the last of her feelings for Arthur.

She took one last look, then turned to leave, but Delilah suddenly grabbed her arm.

"Ms. Channing, it's a long drive to the suburbs. Even though you and Artie are divorced, you're still carrying his child. He'd worry if you went alone. Artie just taught me how to drive—we'll take you."

Arthur looked at Delilah with approval, but Jillian doubted her sudden kindness.

She stepped back warily. "No, I—"

Before she could finish, Delilah's eyes filled with tears.

"Ms. Channing, do you just not want to be around me?"

Arthur immediately grabbed Jillian's wrist and dragged her toward the car.

"Let's go. Don't let Lilah down."

Delilah instantly broke into a smile.

The three of them got into the car. Jillian sat in the back seat, watching Delilah start the engine, a sense of unease settling deep in her chest.

Her hand instinctively moved to her belly as she nervously watched Delilah's movements, catching Delilah's gaze in the rearview mirror by accident.

Those eyes were locked onto her with a venomous intensity, cold and cruel—like a snake ready to strike.

Jillian's skin crawled. "No... I want to get out—"

But Delilah simply reached over and locked the doors.

The next moment, Delilah started the car.

Before Jillian could react, the vehicle shot forward like an arrow, heading straight for a nearby stone column.

Delilah shrieked, "Ah! Oh no, I mistook the gas for the brake—"

Bang!

The car slammed into the pillar with a violent crash and jolted to a stop.

In the chaos, Arthur unbuckled his seatbelt and lunged to shield Delilah, pulling her protectively into his arms.

Jillian, caught completely off guard, was thrown forward. Her stomach slammed into the seatback before the seatbelt yanked her back into place.

Her body shook with the impact, and a sharp pain shot through her abdomen.

Her face turned deathly pale as she felt something warm begin to flow down her legs.

In the front seat, Delilah clung to Arthur's neck, sobbing hysterically.

"Artie, I was so scared! I thought I'd never see you again..."

Arthur held her tightly, soothing her in a gentle voice. "You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jillian in the back seat and turned to look.

Jillian touched her inner thigh, and her fingertips came away bloody.

Arthur's eyes widened in shock. "Jill..."

Jillian whispered, "My baby..."

The pain in her stomach intensified. Jillian's vision went black, and she lost consciousness.

When she woke, she was lying in a hospital bed.

Arthur sat beside her, holding her hand, looking at her with concern.

Jillian looked up at him, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "The baby...?"

Arthur's expression darkened. "Jill, you'll have another chance."

Hope died in Jillian's eyes, replaced by a cold glare directed at Delilah, who stood nearby.

Before Jillian could speak, Delilah burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Channing. It was all my fault—I was so nervous, I hit the gas instead of the brake, and that's why we crashed. I'm the reason you lost your baby.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry..."

Jillian remembered the look in Delilah's eyes just before the accident. A chill ran through her.

"Delilah, you did it on purpose!"

Delilah sobbed harder, looking at Jillian with wounded innocence.

"Ms. Channing, I love Artie so much, and that was his child—my precious, too! Why would I ever hurt him?"

Arthur immediately pulled Delilah into his arms, comforting her. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it. Don't blame yourself."

Then he turned to Jillian, his eyes cold.

"The baby was only three months along—not even formed yet, just a clump of cells. You can always try again.

"I know you're upset, but Lilah was only trying to help. She never expected something like this to happen. Why are you being so harsh?"

Jillian stared at his unfamiliar, cold face, feeling her heart freeze over.

There would be no future for them, ever again.

Maybe it was better this way—the baby deserved better than a father like him.

Jillian closed her eyes in pain, refusing to look at either of them.

But Delilah wouldn't let her go.

She tugged Arthur's sleeve.

"Artie, Ms. Channing just had a miscarriage—she's still so weak. I've heard you're supposed to rest after something like this. It's not safe for her to be alone at the villa in the suburbs. Why not let her stay here a few more days before she moves?"

Arthur nodded, clearly pleased. "You always think of everything."

Jillian looked at them, emotionless. "I'm not staying."

Delilah gazed at her with wounded eyes.

"Ms. Channing, I know this is all my fault. Please, let me take care of you—give me a chance to make it up to you.

"And, well, in six days it's my wedding with Artie. I'd really like you to be there, to witness our happiness together."

Jillian stared at Arthur in disbelief—he'd never mentioned a wedding before.

He avoided her eyes, mumbling an explanation.

"Lilah's been so insecure since the accident. I want to give her a wedding to remember, something spectacular, so no one will ever look down on her again."

Delilah nestled into Arthur's arms, moved. "Artie, you're so good to me."

Jillian was stunned. What a coincidence.

The day he married his new love would be the same day she left forever.

Jillian had no desire to return to the villa and watch Delilah flaunt her affection on purpose.

But Arthur assumed she was still sulking, and didn't give her a chance to refuse—he dragged her home by force.

The moment they walked in, Delilah pointed to a small room on the first floor, putting on a thoughtful act.

"Ms. Channing, you're still weak. It'll be hard for you to go up and down the stairs, so why don't you stay here?"

Jillian's expression remained calm as she pushed open the door and walked inside, leaving Arthur standing awkwardly outside, words caught in his throat.

She sat down heavily on the bed, her gaze drifting over the modest furnishings of the housekeeper's room.

It was the smallest of the three housekeeper rooms, furnished simply with a single bed and a wardrobe.

Still, it was a far cry from the rundown apartment she and Arthur once rented.

Back then, Arthur was just starting his business. To save money, they'd rented a shabby one-room apartment.

The windows didn't seal properly, and every winter, icy drafts would whistle through the cracks. They'd huddle together for warmth.

Her circulation was poor, and her hands and feet were always ice cold. Arthur would tuck her feet under his shirt, against his chest.

The chill made him shiver, but he'd just laugh and hold her closer.

"When I make it big, I'll buy you the biggest villa, with radiant floor heating throughout. You'll never be cold again."

From outside, she could faintly hear Arthur and Delilah discussing wedding details.

Their own wedding had been simple—no ceremony, no celebration. They'd just signed the papers at City Hall and spent 50 dollars on a meal to mark the occasion.

Arthur had gotten drunk that night, held her tight, and promised that once he had money, he'd give her the wedding of the century.

He'd finally bought the villa, but now she was relegated to the housekeeper's room instead of the master bedroom.

Just like he was finally planning a grand wedding—only the bride wasn't her.

Jillian endured the dull ache in her abdomen, letting memories lull her to sleep, tears soaking her pillow.

She was drifting in and out of sleep when the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

Before she could react, Arthur stormed in, radiating fury.

He grabbed Jillian's arm, yanking her off the bed and onto the floor.

"Jillian, I told you—once Lilah's face heals, I'll send her away.

"Yesterday's accident was just that—an accident. Why are you trying to get back at Lilah?"

Jillian snapped back to herself, frowning. "I didn't."

Delilah followed Arthur into the room, tears streaming down her face as she looked at Jillian.

"Ms. Channing, I know you hate me for taking Artie, but we grew up together. If you want to talk about who came first, it was always me.

"We're both women—even if you hate me, how could you post that video of my assault online? Do you want me dead? If so, just strangle me yourself."

With that, she lunged at Jillian, grabbing her hand and pressing it to her own neck in a fit of hysteria.

Jillian shook her off, and Delilah collapsed weakly into Arthur's arms.

Jillian quickly pulled out her phone and saw what was trending.

The top search was a heavily pixelated video, showing a woman with several men, doing things that left little to the imagination.

The blurring was inconsistent, and Delilah's face appeared clearly more than once.

Not only was the video trending, but Delilah was being viciously attacked online as the homewrecker who had come between Jillian and Arthur.

Arthur's eyes were full of anguish as he clung to the sobbing Delilah.

"Lilah was assaulted trying to save me! How could you leak that video?!"

Jillian's face went white. She hadn't known anything about Delilah being assaulted.

She gripped her phone tightly and looked at Arthur. "It wasn't me."

Arthur's expression overflowed with disappointment. "Are you really going to keep denying it? Lilah brought you home out of kindness, and this is how you repay her? I'm truly disappointed in you!"

He threw a stack of papers at her.

It was a printout of chat logs—someone had paid to have the video posted, to completely ruin Delilah.

The account that was used had Jillian's exact profile picture.

Jillian pleaded, "Arthur, I do hate her, but I never sent anything like that! Check my phone—these messages aren't there! Someone must have faked the chat logs using my profile picture!"

Arthur's eyes were icy cold.

"You think I'm an idiot? You probably deleted all the messages long ago, so what's the point in checking now?

"This time, you've gone way too far. Did you ever think about how Lilah is supposed to face people after this?

"I've already got the PR team handling it. They'll swap Lilah's face for yours in the video and clear things up."

With a single sentence, he'd sentenced her to social death.

Jillian snapped her head up and glared at him. "You're worried about her reputation, but did you ever stop to think about how I'm supposed to face people after this?"

Arthur's gaze wavered, but he steeled himself.

"You brought this on yourself. Actions have consequences.

"And even if your reputation takes a hit, it doesn't matter. I'll protect you for the rest of your life."

Jillian couldn't hold back anymore—her eyes filled with tears.

So this was what his protection looked like?

She wanted no part of it.

Unable to contain herself, she stared at Arthur and Delilah in his arms, her voice cold and sharp. "I don't want to see either of you. Get out!"

Arthur didn't budge. "Jill, the PR manager says just clarifying isn't enough. You need to record a video, apologize to Lilah, and admit you did it."

Jillian forgot to cry, staring at him in disbelief.

"And if I refuse?"

Arthur pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and made a call.

Jillian's heart dropped when she saw the video—live from the cemetery, in front of Teresa's grave.

Arthur's expression was chilling as he looked at Jillian.

"Jill, if you don't cooperate, they'll dig up Teresa's ashes and scatter them. You've always been the dutiful daughter. I know you wouldn't want your mother to be denied peace because of your stubbornness."

On the screen, two men stood by Teresa's grave, shovels in hand, waiting for Arthur's signal.

Jillian's legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees.

Clenching her fists, tears streaming down her face, she whispered, "I'll do it."

Arthur watched her heartbreak, struggling with a flicker of guilt, but Delilah was right—this was the only way Jillian would learn her lesson and never make the same mistake again.

He set his phone to video mode and aimed it at her.

Jillian, numb and mechanical, followed his instructions and apologized to Delilah on camera.

She confessed that she was the woman in the video, that she'd deliberately set up Delilah, and that she'd come between Arthur and Delilah's childhood romance.

When the recording finally ended, Jillian's eyes were utterly lifeless.

She looked at Arthur. "Are you satisfied?"

Arthur saw the despair in her eyes, his lips trembling. "Jill, I—"

"Get out! Get out!"

Jillian couldn't take it anymore. She shoved him hard in the chest, forcing both him and Delilah out the door.

The door slammed shut. Jillian curled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Outside, Arthur's voice came through the door with a heavy sigh.

"Jill, I told you, you're the only one I've ever loved. Everything I'm doing is just to make it up to Lilah.

"For now, just calm down. Promise me you'll never do anything reckless like this again."

Jillian hugged her knees, tears streaming down her face.

She opened her phone and checked the trending topics.

Arthur had acted fast, immediately posting a statement and their divorce certificate.

The videos had all been edited—her face was now in every frame.

Her apology video was everywhere.

Outraged viewers flooded her account, unleashing a torrent of vicious insults.

Jillian clung to herself, screaming and sobbing in agony as the hate poured in.

She didn't know how long she had cried before her phone rang. She answered, and her mother, Tanya Ostrom, sounded worried.

"Jill, what's going on? Why is your video all over the internet? Is someone bullying you?"

Hearing Tanya's voice, Jillian couldn't hold back her grief any longer and choked out a brief explanation.

Tanya was furious.

"That Arthur is trash! How could he treat my daughter like this? I won't let him get away with it!

"Jill, don't be scared. I know Delilah. When she was overseas, she was someone's mistress, got stripped and slapped in public, and had to sneak back home in disgrace. I'll post her video right now and let everyone see who she really is."

Jillian quickly stopped her. "Mom, don't post it yet."

Tanya was confused. "After everything they've done to you, you're still going easy on them?"

Jillian's eyes turned cold. "No. I'm waiting for their wedding day. I want to give them a special gift."

Afraid she'd try something, Arthur locked her in the room.

Jillian didn't dare leave, hiding out and counting the days until her passport was ready.

Finally, she made it to the day before Arthur and Delilah's wedding.

Early that morning, Delilah's shrill scream woke her.

Jillian's heart skipped a beat, dread creeping in.

Sure enough, moments later, Arthur burst through the door, furious.

Jillian shrank instinctively into the corner, her eyes fixed on Arthur's fierce expression.

"What do you want now?"

The anger burning in Arthur's eyes suddenly fizzled out when he saw the fear and wariness on her face.

There was a time when Jillian looked at him with nothing but love.

Her whole world revolved around him; the moment she saw him, she'd run straight into his arms.

But now, all he saw in those eyes was fear and caution—there wasn't a trace of affection left.

He faltered. "Jill, why are you—"

Before he could finish, Delilah burst into the room, sobbing uncontrollably.

With a thud, she dropped to her knees right in front of Jillian.

"Ms. Channing, I was wrong, I swear, I know I was wrong. Please, I'm begging you, just leave me alone.

"Again and again, you put my videos online, you mock me for being disfigured, call me a freak. Tomorrow is my wedding day with Artie—what else do you have planned for me?

"I'll just die, I won't fight you anymore, I swear I won't..."

She sprang to her feet and bolted out of the room.

Arthur's face changed instantly. He rushed after her. "Lilah—!"

Jillian got up and followed them both.

It wasn't until she stepped out of the housekeeper's room that she realized what had happened—someone had scrawled huge, crimson letters all over the walls outside with lipstick.

"FREAK!"

Jillian didn't have to guess to know this was another one of Delilah's staged performances.

By then, Delilah had already run out, sobbing.

Arthur caught her by the wrist, but she yanked herself free.

She darted into the street just as a car approached, and flung herself right in front of it.

The car screeched to a halt, and Delilah collapsed to the asphalt with a scream.

Arthur panicked, rushing over and scooping Delilah into his arms. "Lilah!"

Delilah was crying, still struggling. "Just let me die, I don't want to live anymore, I'm scared, I want to die..."

Arthur held her tightly. "Don't be afraid, Lilah. I'll protect you! As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you."

Delilah sobbed, clutching his shirt.

"But Ms. Channing was right. I am a freak. My face will never compare to hers. I'll always feel inferior around her..."

She covered her face with her hands, as if the pain was unbearable.

Arthur tried to comfort her. "No, you're not a freak. To me, you're just as beautiful."

Delilah choked out, "I don't believe you. I know I'm disfigured. In your heart, Ms. Channing will always be more beautiful than me..."

Arthur sighed helplessly. "What will it take for you to believe me?"

Delilah pointed at Jillian, who was standing to the side. "Not unless her face ends up like mine."

Arthur froze, then whipped his head around to stare at Jillian.

Jillian sensed something was wrong and took two steps back, instinctively wanting to run.

But Arthur's cold voice rang out behind her. "Grab her."

She barely made it a few steps before two bodyguards seized her, pinning her in place.

Arthur approached, a knife gleaming in his hand.

Jillian trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Arthur, are you blind? That's not my handwriting! You locked me in my room—I couldn't have written those words!"

Arthur didn't answer. He kept coming, raising his hand to trace her cheek with his fingertip.

His touch was cold and serpentine, gliding across her skin like a venomous snake.

Jillian met his icy gaze, her face drained of all color, her eyes filling with utter despair.

The last flicker of light in her eyes was snuffed out, inch by inch.

Once, if she'd so much as nicked her finger, he would have been beside himself with worry.

Now, he grabbed her jaw and forced her still.

His eyes were glacial. "You shouldn't have humiliated Lilah."

The cold blade pressed against her cheek. In the next instant, a searing pain ripped through her.

Blood welled up, spilling down her chin in thick, crimson drops.

Arthur's eyes filled with tears—he cried right along with her.

He bent down, kissed the corner of her lips, and whispered softly, "It's okay, babe. No matter what you look like, I'll always love you."

Such a tender confession—yet it felt like a dagger driven straight through her heart, carving out every last feeling she had for him.

The blood-stained knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Arthur turned away, scooping Delilah into his arms and carrying her back inside.

Jillian was taken away to have her wound bandaged, then sent back to the housekeeper's room.

She stood in front of the mirror, peeled back the gauze on her face, and stared at the long, jagged scar running down her cheek. She laughed and cried at the same time, like someone who had finally lost her mind.

The ache in Jillian's cheek never faded, a dull throb that kept her curled on the bed, staring blankly out the window. She didn't sleep a single minute that night.

It was finally the day of Arthur and Delilah's wedding.

The housekeepers had been bustling since dawn, handling every detail of the ceremony.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hall, and the door swung open.

Arthur stepped in, dressed in a crisp white suit, moving slowly and deliberately.

He caught sight of Jillian, huddled at the head of the bed, and something like regret flickered in his eyes before he sat down beside her.

He reached out, trying to touch her cheek, but Jillian turned away, dodging his hand.

Arthur didn't hesitate—he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Jill, don't blame me. Lilah was disfigured trying to save me. I couldn't just stand by and watch her die.

"I know you're gentle and kind. Everything you've done lately—it's only because you're afraid of losing me.

"I've already found the best plastic surgery team. After I marry Lilah, I'll take both of you abroad.

"Whether it's you or Lilah, your faces will be restored. And once she's healed, I'll send her away. From then on, it'll just be you and me."

As Arthur finished, Jillian's phone buzzed from its spot on the nightstand.

Arthur instinctively reached for it. "Who's messaging you so early?"

A moment later, he saw it was a notification from an airline.

"An airline? Where are you flying to?"

Before he could read more, Jillian snatched the phone from his hand.

Her face was blank. "Must be a mistake."

Arthur frowned, noticing it looked like an international flight.

At that moment, Delilah appeared in the doorway, dressed in her wedding gown, impatiently calling out.

"Artie, it's almost time. We need to get going."

Arthur let it go, trusting Jillian's explanation.

After all, her foreign language skills were poor—every time she traveled abroad, he was always by her side.

He released Jillian, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"Jill, even though I'm marrying someone else today, believe me—I love you, only you. Once I repay what I owe her, everything will go back to the way it was. Wait for me."

Delilah didn't hear his words. She just shot Jillian a triumphant look, as if she were the victor, then strutted away on Arthur's arm.

Jillian gripped her phone tightly, watching them leave. Only then did she calmly raise her hand and wipe the spot where Arthur had kissed her.

She didn't love him anymore.

Picking up her phone, she saw the text confirming her passport application had been approved.

Tanya had bought her an international ticket the moment it went through, sending her a message.

"Jill, I've taken care of everything. I promise Arthur and Delilah will have a wedding they'll never forget.

"Hurry home—your father and I are waiting."

Tears welled up as Jillian clutched her phone. She got up and quietly cracked the door open.

With everyone distracted by the wedding, no one noticed as she slipped out, blending into the crowd.

She hailed a cab straight to the airport.

The moment she boarded the plane, she pulled out her phone, found Arthur's contact, and blocked him without hesitation.

"Arthur—I never want to see you again," she thought to herself.

She didn't notice that, just before her phone powered off, dozens of calls came flooding in.