Mason’s mistress was pregnant, her belly as round as mine. She draped herself across his lap, fingers tracing her stomach. "They say Mrs. Vance was the best rider before her pregnancy." Her eyes gleamed cruel. "Make her ride for me. If she performs well..." Leaning in, she whispered: "Tonight, I’m yours." Mason’s gaze locked onto me. Silence. I clutched my belly, pleading: "Mason, no! I’ll lose the baby!" Laughter erupted. Mason sneered: "You’ve miscarried before. You can get pregnant again. Ride now—if you can’t entertain Kiki, you won’t leave these grounds tonight." Dragged to the stables, I was thrown onto a spooked horse. Each gallop tore through my womb. Glancing back: Mason and his mistress were already kissing, surrounded by cheers. Wind howled. A bitter smile curled my lips. Mason, this is the end. 1 The sharp sting of antiseptic filled my senses as I drifted back to consciousness. The hospital room was quiet, except for Mason lounging on the sofa, Kiki nestled in his arms. Not a single other member of the Vance family was present. He saw my eyes flutter open and asked lazily, “Woke up, did you?” My face was ashen. My gaze fell to my now-flat stomach. Mason was silent for a beat, then clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Tch. So you actually lost it. What a shame. It was so big, too.” I managed a numb twitch of my lips. Yes. Seven months. Last night, he’d summoned me to the equestrian club. All because of a whim from Kiki. I don’t know how many laps I was forced to ride; I only remember the searing pain in my lungs with every breath. Finally, when Mason and Kiki had had their fun, he buttoned his shirt and tossed two words down to me like a scrap of charity: “That’s enough.” I stumbled off the horse, pale and barely breathing. A hot, sticky wetness bloomed between my legs, and a fresh wave of pain engulfed me. Dazed, I looked toward Mason, who was the center of his adoring crowd. I took two staggering steps before my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the grass, reaching a hand out to him. “Mason… call an ambulance…” My voice was a choked whisper. Sweat beaded on my forehead. One of his friends noticed my state and sauntered over. “Seriously? It was just a couple of laps. Are you really going to be so dramatic?” “I have to admit, Jules, she’s a pretty convincing actress. I almost believed her.” “Hey, you know, she looks exactly like she did when she swore up and down that she didn’t cause your grandmother’s death! Elara, your acting skills haven’t slipped a bit over the years!” Mason, with Kiki tucked under his arm, walked over and looked down at me, his brow furrowed. He must have forgotten what I looked like the last time I miscarried, because he, too, seemed to believe it was all a performance. Kiki stepped forward, her eyes filled with revulsion as she pointed at the spreading stain on my dress. “Oh my god, did you just pee your pants?!” she shrieked, her voice deliberately loud, drawing everyone’s attention. A crushing wave of shame washed over me, so intense I could barely breathe. Instinctively, I reached for Mason again. “Jules, help me. My stomach… it hurts so much.” He slapped my hand away. “Pathetic,” he sneered. With those two words, he turned and led the laughing crowd away, leaving me there. Not even the club staff spared me a glance. I was alone on the grass, my cries for help fading into the night. I must have passed out. The next thing I knew, I was here. A familiar ache settled behind my eyes. I had lost another child. Kiki snuggled against Mason’s shoulder, her hand stroking her own pregnant belly. “It’s just bad luck, I guess. So fragile. Just a little ride and the baby’s gone. What a jinx. I’ve had so much more… exercise with Mason in bed, enough to work up a sweat every time, and my baby is just fine.” Mason chuckled and pressed a kiss to her lips. “How could she ever compare to you? Even if that little bastard of hers had survived, it would have grown up to be nothing more than a servant for our child.” I had heard words like this more times than I could count. Each time, they were a fresh stab to the heart. I used to fight back, my voice shaking with disbelief. “That’s your child, too! How can you say that?!” And each time, he would just stare at me with those cold, empty eyes, his silence a more potent weapon than any shout, driving me slowly mad. But now, I felt nothing. Just a vast, cold numbness. Perhaps it was the weakness from the blood loss, but the cool breeze drifting through the open window felt like ice on my skin. “Mason,” I said, my voice hoarse and distant. “Could you please close the window? I’m cold. The doctor said I need to be careful not to get a chill during my recovery.” It was the same warning the doctor had given me after every miscarriage. Mason’s face hardened, his words as sharp as a winter wind. “You had a miscarriage, not a baby. What recovery do you need? Are you trying to use this as another excuse to slack off and not go back to the estate to wait on my mother?” He stood up, his patience clearly gone after a mere half-hour. Before leaving, he deliberately walked over and threw open every single window in the room. “Hah. Can’t get a chill?” he mocked. “Let’s just see what happens if you do.” I listened in silence, just as I had for the past five years, bearing the full weight of his hatred. But I was so tired. I didn't want to carry the burden of his grandmother’s death anymore. I didn’t want to be the Vance family’s punching bag. Not for one more day. Five years ago, it was a fairytale. Cinderella and the Prince. Mason and I were deeply in love, and he brought me home to the Vance Estate. The Vances were a dynasty, their marriages strategic alliances for generations. But Mason refused. He wanted me. No one in his family liked me. Except for his grandmother. The matriarch was over ninety, her body failing her. The formidable woman who once ruled the family empire was now confined to a wheelchair. She was the only one who supported us. She adored me and would often ask Mason to bring me to the estate just to keep her company. She had raised Mason herself and loved telling me stories about his childhood. But sometimes, as she spoke, a deep sadness would descend upon her. Through her fragmented memories, I learned she’d had a love of her own, long ago, before her own arranged marriage. A love she was forced to give up. Eventually, she lost the ability to speak. But even then, she fought against the entire family to give Mason her blessing to marry me. Just before the wedding preparations began, Mason and I took her for a walk in the park. On a downward slope, she scribbled on a notepad that she was thirsty. Mason ran off to buy water, leaving me to watch over her. In that brief moment, her eyes widened as if she’d seen a ghost from her past. She became incredibly agitated. I held onto the wheelchair, looking around, but I saw no one. “Elara!” Mason’s voice called from behind me. I turned. In that single, fleeting second, the wheelchair rolled away, gathering speed as it careened down the slope. My carelessness had caused a tragedy. After the funeral, Mason still married me. Not out of love, but out of hate. “Elara, you will be trapped in this family forever,” he had vowed. “You will spend the rest of your life in this hell, atoning for what you did.” It wasn’t just him. The entire Vance family directed their grief and rage at me. During that time, Mason met Kiki, an escort from a high-end club. A sordid affair bloomed into a passionate, public romance. And me? I was trapped in the mire of the Vance family, drowning in guilt, losing four children in a relentless cycle of tragedy. And now, a fifth. “Mrs. Vance,” the doctor said, his voice gentle but firm. “As your physician, I have to tell you something. Normally, after a miscarriage, we advise waiting two years before trying to conceive again. But you’ve had four in five years. It has caused significant damage to your body, to your uterus. In the future… it will be very difficult for you to conceive again.” His words were diplomatic, but I understood their true meaning. I nodded calmly, saying nothing. “Should I inform Mr. Vance?” This was a private hospital, owned by the Vance family’s corporation. Though my relationship with the family was a disaster, we maintained a facade of civility in public. People knew I was the unloved wife, but they still afforded me the respect of my title. I gave a bitter smile. “No. Don’t tell him.” As if on cue, my phone rang. It was Mason. His voice was lazy, laced with that familiar, casual cruelty. “Are you dead yet? If not, get over to the villa. Kiki and I are out of condoms. I don’t like the other brands. You know the one I prefer, right? Bring them to me. I’ll text you the address.” He hung up before I could reply. A moment later, the address appeared on my screen. In the past, driven by guilt and a desperate need for atonement, I would have swallowed the humiliation and done exactly as he commanded, just to lessen his hatred for me, even by a fraction. But now, my face was a mask of indifference. I calmly opened a delivery app and ordered a courier. My best friend, Chloe, set a container of soup on the bedside table and tucked the blanket around me, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Elara, do you really have to stay with him? This is the fourth time you’ve miscarried! What more does he want? Does he want to torture you until there’s nothing left?!” I reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “From now on, he can’t hurt me anymore.” Mason was furious that I didn't deliver the condoms myself. He cut off my credit cards and had the hospital discharge me. After packing my few belongings, I went back to the Vance Estate. The servants shot me looks of open contempt. “Look, the jinx is back. See? Her belly is flat again. Pathetic.” “Right? How many times is that now? She can never carry a baby to term. I can’t believe she still has the nerve to show her face here. If it were me, I’d hide away and never come out.” “Well, that’s why we’re just servants. We don’t have skin as thick as hers. How else do you think she became a wealthy man’s wife?” I walked past them, my heart a placid lake. Their words no longer had the power to wound me. My timing was terrible. Mason was there with Kiki, visiting his mother. The moment Mrs. Vance saw me, she slammed her teacup down, her voice sharp and piercing. “Elara! Get over here and kneel before the matriarch’s memorial tablet!” I had been heading upstairs, but I stopped. When it came to the grandmother, I would always feel a pang of guilt. I turned and walked to the small, ornate altar. Mrs. Vance was so angry she didn't even give me a cushion. The cold, hard floor sent jolts of pain through my knees. I hadn't even begun to heal, and when the ruler she kept for this purpose struck my back, a sharp, pulling pain shot through my lower abdomen. “Hmph. Tell me, how many times is this now?” she shrieked. “If I kept a breeding dog, it would have given me several litters by now! And you? You’re worse than a dog!” “It would be better if you couldn’t get pregnant at all! At least then we’d have some peace and quiet!” “Look at you! You’re a disgrace to the memory of the matriarch! If she were still alive and saw that you couldn't even hatch a single egg in five years, she would have forced Mason to divorce you herself! But no, you have the audacity to stay here, clinging to the title of Mrs. Vance!” Her words were a torrent of insults, each one a not-so-subtle reminder that I should know my place and get out of their lives. I looked up at the man responsible for it all. My first pregnancy was a month after our wedding. A month of his brutal, angry lovemaking had left me torn and bleeding, forcing me into the hospital. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed, thinking a child might soften his heart. I was wrong. He had just looked at me and laughed, a sound that chilled me to the bone. “You?” he’d said. “You think you’re worthy of carrying my child?” He forced the bitter abortion pills into my mouth himself. Within half an hour, I was wracked with cramps, and I lost my first child. The second time, he had just started his affair with Kiki. She mentioned she wanted to see me drink, so he ordered ten bottles of the most expensive champagne and forced them down my throat in a private club room. Two bottles in, I started bleeding. The third time, I was late delivering some of their “toys.” As punishment, his mother made me kneel outside the villa for a day and a night. That evening, for a thrill, Mason carried Kiki outside and they made love right in front of me. The exhaustion, the grief, the humiliation… it was too much. I lost my third child. That time, it had been twins. The shock sent me into cardiac arrest. I barely survived. And now, the horse. This baby I had carried the longest. Seven months. I had truly believed this one would make it. But no. And there Mason sat, watching his mother beat me, looking completely indifferent, as if the children I’d lost had nothing to do with him. Beside him, Kiki smirked, her eyes full of triumph and scorn. When Mrs. Vance was finally tired of hitting me, she threw the ruler down and sank onto the sofa with a sigh. “I never should have given in to the matriarch’s pressure and allowed this marriage! Now look what’s happened. I’ve brought a curse, a jinx, into this family!” I gave a weak, bitter smile. I bowed my head and knocked it three times on the floor before the memorial tablet. I had suffered too much in this house. The grandmother's death, Mason’s betrayal, the loss of five children… “In that case,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, “let’s do as you wish. Mason and I will get a divorce. That way, the Vance family can finally be rid of me.” Mason froze, his head snapping in my direction. A moment later, a soft, mocking laugh cut through the tense silence. “Hah.” “You think you have the right to mention divorce?” Before I could react, he had me by the neck, slamming me down onto the offering table in front of the tablet. His grip was viselike, as if he meant to kill me. “You haven't paid for your sins yet, and you think you can just walk away? You kill someone and then just get to leave? Elara, the world doesn’t work like that!” He threw me aside. The force of it sent me stumbling back into a large decorative planter. A sharp pain exploded in the back of my head, and then something warm and wet trickled down my neck. The world went black.
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