After my tenth miscarriage, I checked into the women's clinic again.

The birth care center puts notes on every client. I just never thought mine would be "High-class Whore".

The bold, crude words nearly made my heart stop.

I went looking for someone to explain. But on my way, I accidentally overheard my husband, William Garnier, talking to someone.

"Mr. Garnier, Marcella had another miscarriage. So ... it's my turn now, right?

"She really is a lucky charm. After I slept with her last time, my company went public overnight!"

William had his arm around Sharon Sinclair, his voice lazy and cold. "What's the rush? You'll all get a turn."

Sharon twirled William's fingers, blinking up at him like some innocent girl. "Mr. Garnier, if Marcella finds out, won't she be upset?"

"She should feel lucky she can make you smile." He set down his glass and stroked her hair with that same fake affection. "A woman like her? Flash a smile, and she'll undress herself. Who is she to be upset?"

Laughter exploded around them.

"Can't lie, Marcella is real obedient. She'll do anything I said in bed!"

"My girls can't compete. Mr. Garnier, if you're done with her, pass her over, yeah?"

"Seriously, one night with her isn't enough. She's all pale and fragile after another miscarriage... I can barely hold it in whenever I see her now."

William's voice dropped, colder now. "Say one more word like that and I'll make you regret it!"

He paused. "Her dad begged me to take care of her before he died. Even if she's ruined, she's still mine.

"Besides, she loves me too much. She can't live without me."

Someone chimed in.

"Yeah, we all know she worships the ground you walk on. You sip soup; she tastes it first to make sure it's perfect."

"Teach us your ways, Mr. Garnier. You've got her trained like a dream!"

William swirled the ice in his drink, bored. "Marcella was born pathetic. No training needed.

"Act like you care for five seconds, and she wags her tail like a dog."

Glasses clinked again.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, but the tears still hit the floor, one after another.

Why did William have to treat me like this? I couldn't figure it out.

We met in college. He treated me like I was his whole world. Everyone envied me. After we got married, my father handed most of his projects to him.

I gave him every resource I had. That failing Garnier Group? It only turned into a powerhouse because of me. Now it became the leading enterprise in Arizona.

Then he said he wanted a baby. Every time, he went at it even after I passed out. Despite that, I kept having miscarriages.

Even when I could barely hold myself, I forced myself to keep up, just to see that flicker of hope in his eyes.

But today, I finally saw it clearly. He had been lying to me all along.

I looked down at the wedding ring on my finger. Nausea immediately hit me and I nearly threw up.

Just as I was about to leave, I heard Sharon's voice again from inside.

"Mr. Garnier, how about giving that lucky slot to Mr. Lucian next time? Let's set it for the day after tomorrow.

"We'll record a little something, just for fun. Bet it'll be hilarious."

She turned toward the young man in the black suit standing in the corner.

"Mr. Lucian just got back from overseas. He probably really needs this kind of boost."

She lowered her voice with a giggle. "Between you and me, Marcella's figure totally holds up against those international models."

She laughed, covering her mouth.

That guy seemed to spot me through the crack in the door. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word.

William spoke after a pause. "Don't let her get pregnant again. The doctor says her body's getting worse."

Sharon pouted. "But it's only fun when she gets pregnant. Otherwise, you never have time for me."

He kissed her ear, doting. "As long as you're happy, she can lose a hundred kids for all I care."

Blushed, she grabbed his wandering hand on her chest. "Then, when you're done playing, let's have a baby, okay?"

The two of them then went at it, shameless and bold. No one around batted an eye—they just kept drinking.

I stood frozen outside the door, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. The cold sank in. So did the pain.

I went back to the room and sent William a message—I was ready to leave.

But the pain in my stomach was so sharp I couldn't even stand straight. Every little movement felt like I was being torn apart. All I could do was lie on the bed and wait for the meds to kick in.

Not long after, William rushed in, the lipstick smudge still visible on his chin. He pulled me gently into his arms.

"Cella, you're emotional right now. Don't make a scene, okay?"

His scent hit me, and just like that, my tears came again.

"William, have you ever done anything to betray me?"

His hand froze behind my back. After a moment, he said slowly, "Of course not. You're the one I love most. I'd never hurt you.

"Get some rest. I've got things to take care of."

I grabbed the hem of his shirt, looking up at him, desperate. "My birthday's the day after tomorrow. Let me go home, please. I don't want to stay here."

He smiled as he pried my fingers off him. There was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

"You just had a miscarriage. No one at home can take care of you.

"Be good. We'll celebrate here. I promise it'll be more special than ever."

His tone left no room for argument.

Just as the tension thickened, the sound of heels echoed from the doorway. William adjusted his glasses—a subtle tell he used when something or someone grabbed his attention.

A moment later, Sharon walked in with a sweet smile. "Marcella, why are you trying to leave all of a sudden? Is there something wrong with the arrangements I made?"

I frowned at her flawless, innocent face, a surge of disgust twisting in my gut. She immediately dropped her gaze, her eyes turning red, her voice laced with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Marcella. Please don't be mad.

"You've had so many miscarriages—it's all my fault. I'll kneel and apologize right now!"

She was right.

I said nothing as she actually bent her knees.

Seeing I wasn't stopping her, William grabbed her wrist, his voice sharp.

"That's enough! Sharon's just a secretary. Why do you always have a problem with her?

"She already said sorry. What more do you want?!"

I gave a cold laugh. The irony was suffocating.

Last year, on our anniversary, Sharon got in a car accident. He didn't hesitate—he sped straight to the hospital, running over a few pedestrians along the way. I was the one who had to pay them off and apologize on his behalf.

On New Year's Eve, I waited all night on the rooftop for the blue fireworks he promised me. But all I got was a text, "Sharon has cramps. I need to stay with her."

And then there were all those "coincidences".

When I really thought about it, he'd spent more time with Sharon than he ever did with me.

I'd been stupid enough to believe that what we had—our history, our bond—would be enough. That no matter how hard she tried, he'd never betray me.

Looking back now, I was a damn fool.

Seeing me silent, William's face darkened.

"Marcella, don't think just because you had a miscarriage, the world has to revolve around you."

I opened my mouth to fire back—but pain ripped through my stomach, sharp and brutal.

I clutched the blanket, drenched in cold sweat, ears ringing like a bomb had gone off.

"It hurts... Get a doctor. Now."

Seeing my face twist in pain, William finally shoved Sharon aside and knelt down, panicked.

Sharon rubbed her wrist and blinked slowly.

"Oh, I get it! You're faking it—playing hard to get so Mr. Garnier will feel bad, right?

"You're so smart, Marcella. Unlike me—I don't even know how to seduce a man."

The moment she said that, William stood up and took two steps back like I'd disgusted him.

"Marcella, when did you become this manipulative?"

I couldn't even talk. The pain had drained every ounce of strength from me. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Just as my fingers brushed it, William snatched it away.

"Enough. Stop the act. Think about what you've done. I'll check on you tomorrow." He left with Sharon and locked the door on his way out.

Everything blurred before my eyes. I pounded on the window in despair, praying someone—anyone—would notice. But no matter how loudly I screamed, no one answered.

Just before I blacked out, the door was kicked open.

I was in a hospital when I opened my eyes.

"You're awake?" A young nurse sat beside me. "The doctor said you overdosed on painkillers. It caused a perforation in your stomach."

I nodded, my voice hoarse. "Who brought me in?"

I laughed right after asking. Even now, I hoped it was William.

"A man named Mr. Lucian," she said, gesturing. "He is tall and handsome!"

"Oh, and Mr. Garnier came by too, but his wife had a sudden blood sugar drop. He went to take care of her.

"They're in the next room."

Outside, the sky was dim. I clenched my pale fingertips.

"I need a favor—can you help me print a file?"

During my bandage change, I saw William. He was carrying snacks, and when he passed my room, our eyes met.

He looked awkward but came in.

"Cella, sorry. The doctor didn't know when you'd wake up, so I went to check on Sharon.

"She's all alone in Arizona. I figured you'd understand.

"I brought snacks. Pick one—I'll have Sharon share it with you."

I pointed at the hamburger.

He hesitated. "Those are her favorite. Pick something else."

I pointed at the tacos. His face darkened. "Are you doing this on purpose? You never eat that stuff!"

I saw it coming. I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see his face.

He tried to say something else, but his phone rang. Probably Sharon. He glanced at it, hung up, and left in a hurry.

I yanked out my IV and went home for my documents.

On the way, I passed the house Mom left me. I couldn't help but stop. I tried to enter the code—my birthday—but it didn't work. Then I saw white heels at the door.

With shaking hands, I entered Sharon's birthday instead.

Beep. The door opened.

My blood ran cold. Everything went numb. The house I'd called home for more than 20 years was unrecognizable. My chest tightened—I struggled to breathe.

The place had been remodeled, all in creamy pastels. The bed was piled with sex toys. Their stuff was everywhere.

Panic gripped me. I tore through every corner of the house, searching for Mom's photo.

I found it beside the dog bed. Her eyes in the photo were burned through. A mustache was scribbled over her lips.

I clutched the photo and sobbed like a child. Mom died giving birth to me. That photo was all I had of her.

William once swore no one would ever live here. That was why I dared to keep my most precious things here.

But now, staring at the used condoms in the trash, I knew—I'd loved the wrong man.

I trashed everything I could and didn't stop until I collapsed from exhaustion.

At 2 a.m., he found me. Relieved I was okay, he didn't even meet my eyes.

He said, "It's close to work. I let Sharon stay here for convenience.

"I can buy the house from you. Ten times the price. As an apology.

"Then you won't mind if I give it to her, right?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You know what this house means to me!"

William frowned.

"It's just a place where a dead woman used to live. It's not like anyone was using it. Sharon didn't even mind.

"You've changed. Petty over something like this."

I dragged myself up, shaky, and said quietly, "William, let's di-"

I didn't get to finish.

William scoffed and waved dismissively.

"Alright. You're just jealous. Fine, I'll have Sharon move out." Then, without caring how I struggled, he forced me into the car.

The city lights blurred past the window. William started bragging about my upcoming birthday plans like he deserved a medal.

I said nothing, just listened. The more he talked, the more it felt like he was walking me to someone else's bed with his own hands. The pain in my chest felt like it was tearing apart from within.

Back at the hospital ward, he rushed off to comfort Sharon, who was having a nightmare.

I curled up in bed, clutching my torn-up stomach, while the sounds of their pleasure echoed through the wall all night.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was noon. Sharon stood by my bedside, holding a box of steaming hot instant lasagna.

"Sorry, Marcella. Mr. Garnier made you a birthday cake himself this morning," she said sweetly. "But I accidentally spilled it, so I fed it to the dog. This one's pretty much the same."

I ignored her and started getting dressed. Suddenly, she shrieked and dumped the lasagna all over herself.

"Marcella! I already apologized—why would you do this to me?" she cried, clutching her arm. Her pale skin reddened immediately.

I turned—and caught William's slap straight to my face. His eyes burned with fury.

"Marcella! Apologize to Sharon. On your knees!"

Expressionless, I turned and kept walking.

He yanked my arm and slammed me hard against the wall. I heard something crack. He froze, startled by the sound, then reached out like he didn't know what to do.

But Sharon threw herself into his arms, sobbing like a scene from a drama. After a beat, he chose.

He scooped her up and said over his shoulder, "Cella, burns scar easily. I need to get Sharon to the doctor first."

"What about me?" I wiped the blood from my lips and gave a soundless laugh. "William, I'm your wife."

He stared at me, stunned, and said nothing. Then he turned and walked out, locking the door behind him.

By dusk, Sharon rolled in on a wheelchair. She wore the birthday dress I had custom-made a month ago.

Smiling, she said, "Marcella, my clothes got dirty. Mr. Garnier insisted I wear your dress." She spun in a circle and added, "He said a white dress like this should only be worn by a clean woman."

I lay on the floor, broken and voiceless.

Suddenly, she grabbed my chin and shoved a few pills into my mouth. As I gagged and clawed at my throat, she sat back smugly.

"What a shame Mr. Lucian couldn't make it tonight. You'll just have to settle for Mr. Lincoln.

"They say he's got some unusual tastes. So I brought you some toys." She tapped the armrest of her wheelchair. "You're gonna love it."

After she left, I looked up at the clock. Ten minutes left.

I took off my wedding ring and signed the divorce papers.

At exactly seven, the sky outside exploded in blue fireworks—brilliant and endless. Crowds lined the riverside, watching in awe.

William stood by the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the fireworks, waiting for me.

He waited for me to run into his arms like always, laughing and kissing him.

But by 7:30 p.m., I still hadn't shown up.

Just as he turned to ask Sharon where I was, his phone rang. It was the board.

"Mr. Garnier, the Jallot family has a new heir. They've just announced they're pulling all investment from the Garnier Group!"

His brow furrowed.

"What kind of joke is that? Marcella's parents are dead—what heir?

"Even if they pull out, so what? The Garnier Group doesn't need their money."

Before the caller could finish, Sharon burst in, her face pale with terror.

"Mar... Marcella is dead!"

By the time William arrived, the police were already at the scene.

"Autumn currents are brutal," one officer said. "Recovering anyone's body is nearly impossible. People who jump in ... they rarely survive.

"And we found this near the spot where she jumped."

It was a wedding ring—and a signed divorce agreement.