Patrick Ritter, my adoptive father, brought me home from the orphanage when I was just a child. He was ten years older than me, and he adored me.

Patrick was always exceptional—smart, driven, and he took over the family business with his remarkable capabilities.

But the very first thing he did after securing his place at the helm of this corporate empire was make sure I stopped loving him.

He invited five hotties to his lavish villa and made love to them all night.

Not long after, he married me off to Mateo Larsen, the heir to a prestigious business dynasty.

On my wedding day, Patrick, for the first time in years, looked at me with the same gentleness I remembered from my childhood.

He spoke softly, "Iri, with my current status, no one will dare mistreat you once you marry Mateo.

"From now on, let go of those unrealistic dreams. Build a good life with your husband."

He paused before adding, looking torn, "As for me, I'll always be your adoptive father.

"I'll protect you and make sure no one harms you, but that's as far as our relationship can go."

***

Barely one year into our marriage, I found that Mateo was keeping a mistress.

When I asked for a divorce, he beat the hell out of me.

Since then, he locked me away in a secret chamber, tormenting me in every way he could.

I tried everything I could think of to secretly send word to Patrick, begging him for help.

I kept imagining him rescuing me from this living hell like he did when I was a kid.

I was pregnant, so I had to survive, for my baby's sake.

But all I received from Patrick was a furious scolding.

"Everyone knows Mateo spoils his wife. How could he possibly bear to hurt you?

"Irene, you've left home for barely a year, and you've already learned to lie through your teeth? I won't come get you unless you admit your mistake."

Refusing to give up, I sent Patrick proof of Mateo's infidelity.

This time, Mateo punished me by tying me to an operating table and cutting my child out of my womb.

The chamber was damp and freezing. The metallic stench of blood filled the air as the icy blade tore into my flesh. I kept screaming in agony, but Mateo remained unmoved.

When my baby was taken from me, he ignored my desperate, soul-shattering cries and threw my child to the floor.

I fought with all my might, breaking free only after my wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding.

Then I crawled toward the tiny, mangled body on the ground.

Mateo stomped on my fingers, sneering, "Irene, feeling hopeless? Devastated? You brought this on yourself. This is what you get from ignoring my love!

"You always looked down on me, never cared for my affection. Now I'll make you suffer a thousand times more.

"You've always loved that high and mighty guy and despised me for being his lapdog, right?"

He grabbed my chin in one hand and yanked up my eyelids with the other, making me stare at my child's lifeless, immature body.

"Open your eyes and look. This is what happens when you marry me but keep someone else in your heart."

My body convulsed uncontrollably. It felt like my heart was being torn apart.

My organs burned, hollow and bleeding inside me.

I cried my eyes out until my tears ran dry and red streaks blurred my vision.

But my child was gone forever...

"Let me die..."

My voice was hoarse, barely recognizable as I begged, "Mateo, please... just let me die..."

He let out a laugh, making my skin crawl.

Then he reached out and gently stroked my face. "Die? In your dreams."

He picked up a sharp scalpel, tracing it over my eyes.

"These eyes are beautiful. But why do they always look so cold when they see me?"

He spat through clenched teeth, "You're so disgusting. I gave you my heart, and you treated it like garbage.

"You think I don't know? The night before our wedding, you got him drunk so you could sleep with him."

His face twisted in madness as he cut into my body, over and over.

"How could you be so cheap? And guess what? Your beloved adoptive father is about to get married.

"And the woman he's marrying? She's your closest friend.

"But you're still longing for his love. What a pathetic fool!"

At that moment, I finally realized the man who used to ruffle my hair with a smile, whispering, "Iri, don't be afraid. I'm here," was gone.

Now, he was holding his beloved close, parading through high society, basking in luxury.

While for me—even death had become an impossible dream.

After what felt like an eternity, Mateo finally grew bored with this "game."

"Irene, you're nothing but a clown."

He whispered mockingly in my ear, "He never even came to see you, not once.

"Today, he's vacationing with his fiancée. Tell me, even if he passed by this place, would he come to see you?

"I doubt he'd even glance your way, given your sorry state.

"Wanna bet? If you showed up before Patrick like this, do you think he'd even recognize you?"

I shook my head in terror, but my throat felt blocked—I couldn't make a sound.

I didn't want to see him. I didn't want him to see what I'd become.

Yet when my eyes landed on the tiny, cold corpse on the floor, my shattered heart dared to hope, just a little...

Patrick...

At least come and bury my child...

Mateo saw the flicker in my eyes and laughed maniacally. He yanked my hair, forcing my rotting, pus-covered face upward.

"Irene, do you really think you still have a choice?"

At night, torrential rain poured down.

The van pulled over to the curb, and a few bodyguards tossed me onto the street in front of a five-star hotel like I was nothing but trash.

It was supposed to be a bustling part of the city, but not a single person or car passed by.

Even the hotel staff, who should have been stationed at the entrance, were nowhere to be seen.

My tendons had been severed in both my hands and feet, leaving me sprawled helplessly on the soaked pavement.

Rainwater soaked into my wounds, turning them pale and rotten, while blood mixed with the water and ran off, carrying a stench so foul it made me want to retch.

I tried to move, but even the slightest twitch of a finger sent agony shooting through me.

I wanted to call for help, but my throat had been ruined by drugs—only a faint, hissing sound escaped my lips.

Just then, a rumbling engine grew louder, and I turned my head. A beam of light swept over me.

The car rolled slowly closer. I knew that license plate by heart...

The Bentley stopped right in front of me. The driver hurried out, umbrella in hand, and opened the rear door.

A long, elegant leg stepped onto the ground, splashing water.

The man wore a finely tailored, expensive suit. He took the umbrella from his driver and walked around to the other side.

His hand pressed down on the door handle, but then he hesitated.

I thought he'd noticed me, so I whimpered, hoping he might save me.

He glanced my way, and his cold voice rang out.

"Clean this up. Don't let this mess sully Teresa's eyes."

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning—every drop of blood in my body froze.

The bodyguard scowled, grabbed my collar, and, with another, dragged me to a filthy puddle by the roadside.

Dirty water flooded my mouth and nose, but I couldn't even feel the pain of suffocation anymore.

The woman glanced at me with curiosity, then slipped her arm through the man's, and together they walked into the hotel.

The world grew quiet again, save for the relentless sound of rain.

"Hahahaha... Irene, did you see that? That's the man you love most."

Mateo walked toward me, chuckling darkly.

"He won't even look you in the eye—because you disgust him."

Blood and tears blurred my vision as I stared, unblinking, at the silhouette fading into the distance...

When Mateo had had enough of tormenting me, he kicked me hard in the neck.

"Irene, I'm done playing. Didn't you want to die? I'll give you what you want."

As Mateo's knife sliced across my throat, I heard a woman's laughter in the distance.

Patrick, this is what you wanted... I won't bother you anymore.

The next time I saw Patrick was outside the Larsen's villa. He and Teresa Elmore were dressed in matching casual outfits, looking perfectly in sync.

I rushed over and collapsed at his feet, sobbing and screaming, but my mouth opened and closed in silence.

It was as if he sensed something—he glanced down at me, his brow furrowed.

Teresa followed his gaze, then spoke softly.

"Rick, are you thinking about Iri? If you miss her, let's go inside and look for her.

"We won't find her just standing here."

A wave of grief so sharp it was suffocating crashed over me, and tears poured down my face.

That's right. He couldn't see me anymore.

Even I was starting to forget that I was already dead.

But my child... she had only just come into this world. She didn't even have anyone to lay her to rest...

Patrick couldn't see me. How could I beg him to save my baby?

Patrick looked away, his voice flat. "No need. You're tired from walking around all day. Let's go home and rest."

Teresa glanced in the direction of my room, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"Okay, let's go back.

"Rick, tomorrow's our last day here. Are you sure you don't want to see her?"

"We'll see. Maybe when she realizes she was wrong."

I gave a bitter smile. I wanted so badly to tell Patrick that I truly understood now—I wouldn't have any more foolish dreams.

I'd never again have those thoughts about him.

But he couldn't hear me.

I watched as the CEO of the company bent down, picked up Teresa on his back, and carried her away.

Their shadows stretched longer and longer in the golden light of sunset.

"Rick, I understand how you feel. But now everyone has their own family, and Iri should have settled down after marriage.

"I really miss her. Tomorrow's my birthday, and I've already told the Larsen family—she should come celebrate with me.

"Iri is my best friend. I want her to stay and talk for a while. Will you let her, please?"

A gentle breeze scattered Patrick's quiet "Okay."

My face was streaked with tears as I screamed and sobbed, "Patrick, I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have loved you...

"I'm begging you, don't just walk past. Please, save my child...

"Please, just go inside and check. Just ask if I'm there..."

But he really did just walk by. He truly didn't want to see me at all.

Watching my child's lifeless body tossed into a dumpster, memories flashed before my eyes like a spinning carousel.

When I was 13, I got my first period. The pain was unbearable—I curled up on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

Patrick found out and immediately abandoned a conference room full of executives, rushing to my side and cradling me tightly in his arms.

His warm palm gently pressed against my abdomen, massaging in slow, soothing circles, his voice thick with worry and tenderness.

"Iri, don't be scared... I'm right here."

On my 18th birthday, he stumbled into my room drunk, completely unannounced.

His breath was hot against my neck. "We're not even related by blood, so if..."

Before he could finish, he snapped back to reality, panic flashing across his face as he hurriedly fled.

Again and again, he gave me hope, only to shatter it with his own hands.

Countless nights, he held me close, but when rumors exploded online, he made a public statement.

"My feelings for Iri are nothing more than an elder's care for the younger generation.

"If anyone continues to spread malicious lies, I will pursue legal action."

He let me share couple's items with him, but when Grandpa hinted that it was time for me to settle down, he simply nodded, calm as ever.

"It's time to find someone Iri can trust for life."

And Mateo—he was the most unhinged spectator in this tragic farce.

At a lavish cocktail party, he knelt before me in front of everyone, clutching a stack of documents.

"Irene, I, Mateo Larsen, have chosen you. These are all the shares I own. If you marry me, they're yours."

I took the transfer papers from Mateo's trembling hands. His nervousness melted into joy.

But the next second, I tore the documents to shreds and tossed the scraps into the air.

"Mateo, your love is nothing but a burden to me. It makes me sick."

His smile faded, darkening bit by bit. Finally, he glared at me, his voice low and strained.

"Is that so... Then you'd better pray you never end up in my hands."

It was only later that I truly understood. Patrick's so-called "affection" was a sugar-coated blade—warm on the surface, but always cutting deep.

And Mateo's obsessive "devotion" was nothing but a poisoned shackle, binding me so tightly I could never break free.

At Teresa's birthday party, every guest had arrived—except me.

"Where's Irene?" Patrick's voice was tight with anger.

"Please, Patrick, calm down. Iri's still sick with a cold and didn't want to risk infecting Teresa," Mateo replied respectfully.

"A cold?" Patrick scoffed. "She skips her elder's birthday party over something so trivial?"

"Patrick." Mateo quickly dropped to his knees, pleading for me.

"I bought a rare piece of jewelry at an auction for Teresa's birthday. Please, forgive Iri just this once."

Teresa chimed in gently, "Rick, it's my birthday. Please don't be upset with Iri."

Patrick's expression softened a little. "Forget it. Today's supposed to be a happy day—no need to hold a grudge.

"We won't wait for her. Let's start the party."

Throughout the banquet, Patrick drank alone, barely acknowledging Teresa's playful attempts to cheer him up.

***

"Iri..."

Patrick called out in his sleep.

He hadn't seen Irene in so long... and he found himself missing her.

Staring at the ceiling, he lay awake for hours.

After a moment's hesitation, he got dressed, slipped past the security cameras, and climbed into the villa he'd gifted Irene as a wedding present.

The place was eerily quiet, darkness pressing in from every corner. Only the housekeeper's room on the first floor glowed with a faint light.

Patrick frowned, puzzled, and walked slowly toward the window.

Inside was the housekeeper who'd cared for Irene back at the Ritter family home—"Hattie," he thought to himself.

Hattie Becker clutched a picture frame, tears streaming down her face.

Patrick tapped softly on the window. Hattie looked up, and her quiet sobs exploded into uncontrollable weeping.

She flung open the door and rushed to him, crying out, "Mr. Ritter, thank God you're here...

"Ms. Ritter is gone! Mateo locked her in a secret room and tortured her to death.

"And her poor baby... She wasn't even fully formed, and he cut her right out of the womb."