Damian Blackwood and his mistress, Sylvia Vance, were fighting again. The reason? I, his legal wife, was pregnant.

To appease Sylvia, Damian didn't hesitate to drag me to the hospital for an abortion.

"I haven't even touched you. Who knows which bastard's child is in your belly?"

"Besides, Sylvia hasn't spoken to me in three days because of your pregnancy."

I struggled, refusing to move, but he accidentally shoved me down from the second floor. The baby was gone, and my leg was shattered.

After waking up in the hospital, Damian coldly handed me a set of divorce papers.

"Sign them quickly. Sylvia needs to feel secure."

"Sign them, and I'll give you fifty million. That's enough for you to live a life of luxury for the rest of your life, even with a crippled leg."

Seeing me tremble and sign, he suddenly flared up in anger:

"During the cooling-off period... don't let me catch you messing around with some other guy!"

I calmly watched as he slammed the door shut and left. I didn't try to stop him.

Damian, you were the one who didn't believe in me first. So this time, I'm the one letting you go.

-

"After the anesthesia wears off, don't give her any painkillers. Let that promiscuous woman learn her lesson!"

Damian took the divorce papers, left those words hanging in the air, and slammed the door shut.

And I was like a dead person, curled up on the bed, weeping silently.

My hand subconsciously touched my lower abdomen. A life once pulsed here.

But that little life was killed by its own father's hands.

All because that mistress he kept, Sylvia, hadn't replied to his messages for three days, so he used our child's death to appease her.

To make Sylvia happy, he even casually ended our seven years of marriage.

I had been with Damian for 11 years—dating for four, married for seven—only for it to end like this.

My body trembled uncontrollably. The sweetness of the past and the cruelty of the present intertwined in my mind, becoming a sharp knife that stabbed my heart again and again.

"Mrs. Blackwood, it's time to change your dressing." The nurse came in and visibly froze when she saw my tear-streaked face.

"I'm not Mrs. Blackwood anymore," I said, my voice hoarse.

The nurse lowered her head awkwardly and gently began to change my dressing.

When the gauze was removed, I saw the gruesome wound on my leg.

The moment Damian pushed me, as I tumbled down the stairs, the first thing I did was protect my stomach. But the baby was still gone, and I, a ballet dancer, had my leg broken.

By now, the anesthesia had worn off, and the pain in my leg made me cry out.

"Can you give me some painkillers?" I asked weakly.

The nurse looked troubled. "Mr. Blackwood instructed..."

I closed my eyes, my throat tightening.

I remembered what Damian had ordered the doctors earlier: "Don't give her any painkillers. Let that promiscuous woman learn her lesson."

Learn what? To remember not to get pregnant with another man's child? But it was his flesh and blood!

It was just an excuse he found to torture me more effectively.

Chapter 2

On the second day of my hospital stay, Damian sent a driver to pick me up.

I was taken directly back to the Blackwood villa.

"During the cooling-off period, you will stay in the villa and not go anywhere."

Damian sent a cold message.

When I didn't reply, Damian, as if possessed, sent two more messages in quick succession.

"Autumn Shaw, I'm warning you. If you dare get involved with another man again, don't blame me for what happens."

"During the cooling-off period, don't even think about taking a single step out of this villa!"

I replied with a single, flat period.

After entering the family estate, I struggled up the stairs on my crutches.

With every step, the wound on my leg burned like fire.

Once winning numerous awards for my ballet on stage, even walking now felt painful.

Just as I reached the second-floor bedroom, the housekeeper, Mrs. Hodge, stopped me:

"This room now belongs to Mr. Blackwood and Sylvia. As for your room, it's that storage closet."

With a cautious glance at my face, Mrs. Hodge pointed into the distance.

I nodded, my face expressionless, but my heart felt like it was being sliced open, bleeding drop by drop.

This villa? Damian and I designed it together. Every single detail, from the roses in the garden to the curtains in the bedroom, I chose myself.

Now, Sylvia has moved in, sleeping in the bed I once shared with Damian, while I'm relegated to a cramped storage closet.

"Fine, I understand."

I said, my voice hoarse with exhaustion, offering no resistance.

That night, I lay in the small storage closet, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, when my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was a photo from Sylvia. She and Damian were asleep in each other's arms, on our marriage bed.

Sylvia was making a victory sign at the camera, wearing the gemstone necklace Damian once gave me.

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood.

This wasn't the first time Sylvia had humiliated me like this, but each time, it struck my heart with pinpoint accuracy.

The next morning, I was awakened by a commotion downstairs.

Leaning on my crutches, I made my way to the top of the stairs and saw Sylvia wearing my silk nightgown, ordering people around in the living room.

"This vase is so tacky. Throw it out."

She picked up something Damian and I had brought back from our honeymoon and casually tossed it into the trash.

"Sylvia, that belongs to Mrs. Blackwood... I mean, Ms. Shaw."

Mrs. Hodge said hesitantly.

Sylvia sneered: "Everything here belongs to Damian, and everything that belongs to Damian is mine."

She looked up, saw me, and deliberately raised her voice: "Isn't that right, Damian?"

Right there on the living room sofa, Damian watched it all unfold. He casually instructed Mrs. Hodge, "Just do whatever Sylvia says."

As he said this, his eyes landed on me.

When he saw me, Damian's gaze flickered for a moment, but it quickly returned to cold indifference.

"Come down for breakfast."

Damian said to me, his tone like he was tossing a scrap to a stray dog.

I slowly descended the stairs, each step like walking on the tips of knives.

Sylvia suddenly rushed over, pretending to help me, but instead, she deliberately bumped hard against my injured leg.

The pain was so intense my vision went black, and I nearly fell.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

She apologized with false sincerity.

In reality, Sylvia leaned close to my ear and added viciously: "You damn cripple, you still dare to linger here!

"Watch it, or I'll kill you."

Damian saw the whole thing, but just frowned: "Be careful."

At the breakfast table, Sylvia sat in my place, intimately feeding Damian fruit.

Mechanically, I chewed my food, which tasted like wax.

"Ms. Shaw, I heard you used to be a dancer?"

Sylvia suddenly asked, "Such a shame. I suppose you can only do wheelchair dances from now on?"

I put down my chopsticks and looked her straight in the eye: "Ms. Vance, do you know why Damian never takes you to business dinners?"

Sylvia's expression changed.

"Because he finds you unpresentable."

I said calmly, "Just like right now."

Damian shot to his feet and slapped me across the face.

Chapter 3

The slap snapped my head to the side, and my face immediately swelled.

But the pain in my heart was infinitely worse than the sting on my cheek.

The man who once loved me was now hurting me, again and again, for another woman.

I felt as if a thousand tiny, needle-sharp barbs were tearing at my heart, a dense, spreading agony.

"Enough!

Autumn, don't think I don't know what you're plotting."

I looked up at him, my voice trembling with pain: "What am I plotting?

Trying to win back a murderer who pushed me down the stairs?"

"Damian, I'm not that pathetic!"

Damian's face was grim as he pulled Sylvia to her feet: "Let's go."

After they left, I went back to my room and finally allowed myself to break down.

I lay on the bed, crying silently until I was completely exhausted.

Two more days passed.

Every time I tried to leave the villa, Damian would shut me down with, "Don't even think about it. You're not going anywhere during the cooling-off period."

Curled up on the single bed in the storage room, I felt a dull, throbbing ache in my leg when the phone suddenly rang.

"Excuse me, is this Ms. Shaw? This is the City Central Hospital."

"Your mother was in a serious car accident. She needs surgery immediately, so please come to the hospital to sign the consent forms as soon as possible."

My blood instantly turned to ice. The world seemed to recede into a deafening roar.

"I... I'll be right there."

I answered, trembling.

Then, a cruel reality hit me. I was imprisoned here, with no way out.

Ignoring the pain in my leg, I stumbled downstairs on my crutches.

In the living room, Damian and Sylvia were nestled on the sofa, watching a movie.

When he saw me, Damian's brow furrowed instantly.

"Who allowed you to come out?"

he demanded coldly.

"My mom was in a car accident! She needs surgery, and I have to sign the papers!"

My voice was raw, almost a scream. "Let me go to the hospital, I'm begging you!"

Sylvia let out a contemptuous laugh: "What a coincidence.

You've only been locked up for two days, and suddenly your mom's in an accident?"

Damian's gaze turned even colder: "Autumn, do you think a clumsy lie like that could fool me?"

"I'm not lying to you!"

I lunged for the coffee table and grabbed his phone.

"Call the hospital yourself!

The emergency department at the city's central hospital, the number is—"

Damian snatched the phone back: "Enough!

Do you really think I'd believe you?"

I collapsed to my knees, tears blurring my vision: "Damian, for the sake of our eleven years together, I'm begging you, let me go to the hospital…"

"If it's a lie, you can do whatever you want to me when I get back!"

Sylvia suddenly spoke up, a chilling smile on her face: "Damian, since she's so desperate to leave, why don't we play a little game?"

Damian raised an eyebrow at her. Sylvia leaned in and whispered something sharp in his ear, and a cruel curve formed on his lips.

"Sylvia is right," he said, looking down at me. "If you really want to go, then get on your knees and beg her properly."

"If Sylvia is happy, I'll let you go."

My entire body trembled, my nails digging deep into my palms.

The same Damian who once shielded me from drinks, warmed my hands, and waited three hours for me in the rain, was now demanding I kneel before his mistress.

"Hurry up," Sylvia said, swinging her feet. "If you keep dragging this out, your mother might just—"

She made a throat-slitting gesture and giggled.

I closed my eyes and slowly bent my knees.

My pride was worthless in the face of my mother's life.

"Please, Ms. Vance," my forehead pressed against the cold floor, "let me go to the hospital to see my mother..."

"I can't hear you. Louder."

Sylvia tapped my shoulder with her foot.

"Please!

I'm begging you, let me see my mother."

My voice was broken, and the injured leg pinned beneath me as I knelt was screaming in pain.

Sylvia suddenly burst out laughing, her laughter laced with scorn: "Damian, look at her. She's just like a dog!"

Damian didn't laugh, but his gaze was colder than ever: "To get out of here, you're really willing to do anything."

He stood up, looking down at me:

"I've changed my mind. You're this desperate to get out... have you got a date with some other man?"

Chapter 4

I looked up in disbelief: "Damian, that's my mom!

She treated you like her own son ever since we got married!"

My mom and I have relied on each other since I was little. I always listened to her, and the only time I ever defied her was when I married Damian.

Damian's expression softened slightly. Just then, the phone rang again.

Damian answered impatiently: "Hello?"

His expression suddenly changed. He glanced at me, then said in a low voice, "Got it. We'll be right over."

After hanging up, he was silent for a moment, then said to Sylvia, "It's true."

Sylvia pouted: "What a buzzkill."

"Can I leave now?"

I fought to stand, asking, but he viciously ripped my cane away.

"I'm driving you myself."

The command was absolute.

An hour later, when Damian's car finally stopped at the hospital entrance, I had already cried myself out of tears.

"The emergency room is that way."

A nurse pointed in a direction. I stumbled over, only to see a gurney covered by a white sheet.

"No... it can't be..." I grabbed a doctor's sleeve. "Where's my mom?

Where is her?"

The doctor took off his mask, his eyes filled with pity: "I'm very sorry. We did everything we could.

The patient was calling your name until the very end."

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees in front of the gurney.

My trembling hand lifted the white sheet, revealing my mother's pale face.

"Mom..." I gently caressed her cold cheek. "I'm sorry... I'm too late..."

"What... did she say at the end?"

I asked the doctor, my voice hoarse.

The doctor hesitated for a moment: "The patient wasn't fully conscious. She kept repeating, 'Autumn, leave...'"

Damian's face changed drastically. He cut in sharply, "Doctor, have some respect for the dead. Don't spread nonsensical ramblings."

The doctor didn't understand why he reacted so strongly, while I was still lost in the news of my mother's passing.

After returning from the hospital, I wandered the villa like a ghost.

My mother's death had drained the last bit of life from me. Even Sylvia's humiliations and torments could no longer provoke a single reaction.

For once, on the day of the funeral, Damian allowed me to leave. But he sent four bodyguards to "accompany" me.

Kneeling before my mother's grave, the rain mixed with my tears, wetting the headstone.

The bodyguards stood a short distance away, like a group of prison guards watching over a death row inmate.

"Time's up, Ms. Shaw."

the lead bodyguard said coldly.

I caressed my mother's name on the headstone and whispered, "Mom, I will leave."

After returning to the villa, my silence seemed to infuriate Damian.

He began to deliberately show affection for Sylvia in front of me, ordering me to serve their meals, and even making me scrub the floor on my knees.

"Look at the state you're in now," Sylvia said, grinding her high heel into my fingers as she stepped on the back of my hand.

"The former prima ballerina—now you're not even as good as a dog."

I endured it numbly, converting all the pain into a deep-seated hatred.

But then, the unexpected happened. A fire broke out in the villa.

At first, I only smelled smoke, then the piercing sound of an alarm shattered the night sky.

I struggled to crawl out of the storage room. The hallway was already billowing with thick smoke, and a wave of heat rushed over me, searing my lungs.

"Fire!

Put it out!"

The servants' screams echoed from downstairs.

I dragged my injured leg toward the stairs, but the thick smoke forced me back repeatedly.

Just as I was about to despair, a familiar figure charged up the stairs.

Damian.

His face was etched with a panic I hadn't seen in a long time, his eyes searching for something in the smoke.

When our gazes met, I saw a flicker of an emotion I couldn't decipher in his eyes.

"Damian..." I reached out, my voice hoarse.

Chapter 5

He took a step toward me, but just then, Sylvia's scream came from the bedroom: "Damian!

Help me!"

That single moment of hesitation nearly killed me.

Damian gave me one last look, then turned and rushed into the master bedroom.

I watched him disappear into the thick smoke, carrying Sylvia as he charged downstairs, never once looking back.

The waves of heat licked at my skin. I curled up in a corner, waiting for death to come.

In a daze, I thought I saw my mother waving at me.

"Autumn, run..."

It was Mrs. Hodge and the gardener who saved me.

They realized Damian had only saved Sylvia, so they risked their lives to go back into the fire and found me, already unconscious.

When I woke up again, I was covered in bandages.

The doctor told me I had burns over 30% of my body, especially my legs, and that I might be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

"It's a miracle you survived at all,"

the doctor sighed.

The door to my room was pushed open, and Damian walked in.

He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes.

Seeing me awake, a complicated emotion flickered in his eyes.

"Are you... okay?"

he asked dryly.

I stared at the ceiling, refusing to look at him.

My vocal cords were scorched by the smoke, and speaking felt like swallowing knives, but I still managed to force out the words: "You should have let me die there."

Damian's hands clenched abruptly, his knuckles turning white. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Why save me?"

I asked hoarsely. "Didn't you wish I would just disappear?"

He was silent for a long time, so long I thought he wouldn't answer.

Finally, he said:

"The cooling-off period isn't over. You're still my wife."

I laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "Damian, you're pathetic."

His face turned ashen as he spun to leave, but he stopped at the door. "I'll arrange for the best doctors to treat you.

Don't worry about the cost."

I closed my eyes. "Save your fake kindness. Sign the divorce papers, and we're even."

Those words enraged Damian. He slammed the door shut, the force of it making the IV stand tremble.

The days that followed were a nightmare.

The gut-wrenching pain of the daily dressing changes, and every time I saw the scars on my body, I felt like a monster barely clinging to life.

But that wasn't the most terrifying part. The most terrifying part was discovering that someone was secretly swapping my medication.

I first noticed something was wrong after a nurse gave me a painkiller injection.

The pain didn't lessen; it grew more intense, accompanied by a strange dizziness.

I fought to stay conscious and saw the nurse talking to a familiar figure outside the door as she left—Sylvia.

That night, I pretended to be asleep and overheard the on-duty nurse on the phone:

"Yes, Ms. Vance, I've switched the medicine as you said... No one will find out... It will look like organ failure from an infection..."

A chill ran through me. I finally understood Sylvia's plan. She wanted me to "die naturally."

The next day, I decided to play along.

Whenever the nurse came with my medication, I would pretend to take it, but I'd hide it under my tongue or beneath my pillow.

I contacted the only person still willing to help me, Mrs. Hodge, and asked her to secretly bring me what I needed.

"Ms. Shaw, what are you...?" Mrs. Hodge's eyes widened in horror as she looked at the list of items I'd made.

"Mrs. Hodge," I said, taking her trembling hand, "do you want to watch me die here?"

The tearful woman shook her head and agreed to help me.

The plan went smoothly.

I gathered enough sleeping pills and had Mrs. Hodge get a Jane Doe from the hospital morgue, one with a build similar to my own.

So many people had died in the fire, no one would notice one body missing.

When the crucial day arrived, I was surprisingly calm.

I took just enough sleeping pills to enter a death-like state, while Mrs. Hodge dressed the prepared corpse in my hospital gown and created burn marks on it.

"Ms. Shaw, are you sure you want to do this?"

Mrs. Hodge asked me one last time. "Once this begins, there's no turning back."

I looked at the scarred woman in the mirror and said softly, "Autumn is already dead.

She died in that fire."

When the hospital announced my "death," Damian was abroad on a business trip.