Our honeymoon abroad was shattered by a violent uprising. To give his precious Bianca a better chance to escape, my new husband shoved me out of the car. I spent the next week in a war-torn hell, a living nightmare. On the brink of collapse, it was my childhood friend who descended like an angel and saved me. He helped me heal, he proposed, and when he learned I was pregnant, he was ecstatic. But at the peak of my happiness, I overheard him talking to my ex-husband. "Grace's pregnant now," he said. "Once the baby is born, we can use the cord blood to save Bianca." My ex asked him, "Was it worth it? Marrying and having a child with a woman you don't love, all for Bianca?" My friend gave a bitter smile. "You were willing to risk your life for her. I'm willing to sacrifice my own." "As long as Bianca can be healthy and happy, I'd do anything." And just like that, I understood. This beautiful, happy marriage was a lie from the very beginning. Both of my husbands, the men I had given my heart to, had only ever loved one woman: Bianca. If that was the case, there was no reason for me to cling to a loveless marriage. But why, after I left, did the man who swore he never loved me descend into madness, crying out my name? 1 Clutching the positive pregnancy report, I couldn't wait to share the wonderful news with John. But outside a VIP hospital room, I saw something that stopped my world. My ex-husband and my current husband were both gathered around a hospital bed, fussing over Bianca. John, a man I’d always known to be cool and reserved, was looking at Bianca with a tenderness so profound it was practically liquid. "Bianca, don't worry," he said softly. "I've already arranged for the best medical team. As soon as the baby is born, we'll do the surgery." "But… will Grace agree?" Bianca's voice was frail. "What happened before hurt her so much. I'm afraid if something else goes wrong, she might…" "You're too kind, Bianca," John murmured, gently stroking her hair. "You don't need to worry about her feelings. If it weren't for you, she never would have experienced my love in the first place. She should be grateful to you." Inside the room, a picture of tranquil devotion. Outside, I was drowning in my own tears. My mind flashed back to the day my ex-husband, Damien, abandoned me. In a foreign country ripped apart by war, at my most desperate and helpless moment, it was John who had walked against the tide of fleeing people, who had held me tight amidst the thunder of artillery. "Don't be afraid," he had whispered, his eyes full of a deep, sincere emotion. "I'm here." "To the ends of the earth, from this day to our last, as long as I'm alive, I will protect you with my life." In that moment, I had naively believed I'd found true love. I saw John as my salvation. Who could have known he was the one who would truly push me into the abyss? Saving me, marrying me, having a child with me—it was all for his beloved Bianca. The stream of tears washed away the last vestiges of affection I had for John. I turned, found a doctor, and said, my voice hollow, "Please schedule an abortion for me. I want to terminate this pregnancy." The doctor stared at me, shocked. "Are you sure? When your husband heard you were pregnant, his eyes were red with joy. If he finds out…" "He is not my husband," I cut her off. He's a liar who has ruined my life. The doctor sighed and said no more. After the procedure, I sat in the hallway, my face a ghostly white. John came rushing over, a box of fruit in his hands. "Grace, sorry to keep you waiting. I went to get you your favorite cherries. How did the check-up go? Is the baby okay?" He looked at me with such genuine concern. A bitter smile touched my lips. I had seen that same box of cherries in Bianca's room. This "special gift" was just her leftovers. As for the baby… he was fine. He would be reborn into a family that would truly love him, not brought into a world of lies and deceit. Lost in thought, I barely noticed when John took my hand and gently rested his head against my stomach. "Grace, you have no idea how happy I am. I swear, after the baby is born, I will spend the rest of my life making you both happy." Was this 'happiness' born from love, or from the guilt and compensation of a man who knew he'd done wrong? I didn't know what to say. Claiming I was tired, I gently pushed him away. As soon as we got home, John received a text and rushed out the door. I went to his study. The bookshelves, his computer—everything was filled with research on leukemia treatments. This man, so proud his entire life, had humbled himself, begging and pleading for the sake of a sick Bianca. The safe didn't hold company secrets. It held a notebook, detailing all of Bianca's preferences. "Bianca has a sensitive stomach. Low-oil, low-salt meals. No spice." "Bianca loves roses. The rose manor outside the city will be finished by the end of the year. I hope she'll be happy when she sees it." "Sweets improve her mood. She studied in France, so French pastries should suit her palate." He had spent a fortune on jewels for her, built a fairytale manor for her. Every word was a testament to his deep, abiding love for Bianca. There was not a single mention of me, his wife, his childhood friend. The love I had prided myself on was not worth a fraction of what Bianca received. After a moment, my tears flowing freely, I dialed a number. "Hello, I'd like to arrange a faked death service." "Three days from now. A car accident. One car, two bodies." 2 After finalizing the details, I sent them the video I had secretly recorded at the hospital, instructing them to release it after my "death." Then I printed a copy of the divorce papers and waited for John to come home. He didn't return. By noon the next day, he was still gone. I was about to call him when I saw his face on the television. "John Cross, CEO of Cross Industries, kneels up 9,999 steps to the grand temple, praying for the safety of his beloved." In the video, John's knees were raw and bloody, but he ignored everyone's pleas to stop, bowing his head with every agonizing step, his face a mask of pious determination. He told the reporter interviewing him, his voice thick with emotion, "As long as the one I love is safe, I would give up everything I have." The interview went viral. Messages started pouring in. "Oh my God, Grace! He's willing to do that for you when you're just pregnant? Imagine how he'll spoil you when the baby comes! I heard he invested tens of millions in the hospital just to ensure you have a safe delivery. He's so devoted!" "I'm so jealous, Grace! You have a husband who loves you so much. You must be the happiest woman in the world." Reading the messages, I felt a bitter, ironic twist in my gut. Once, I would have believed it. I would have thought I was the happiest woman in the world. But now, I knew the truth. This profound love belonged to Bianca. I was just a tragic prop in their grand, romantic drama. I cleared my message history and went to the hospital with the divorce papers. The moment John saw me, he became visibly agitated. He ignored the pain in his legs and rushed towards me. "Grace, what are you doing here? I'm so sorry, I must have worried you…" "Where's the jade amulet?" John's eyes flickered away. "I… I lost it. I've sent people to look for it. If they can't find it, I'll get you an even better gift." How could he not find it? I had seen it hanging around Bianca's neck when I passed her room earlier. I didn't expose his lie. I handed him the last page of a document. "No need to wait. I've found a house I like. You can buy it for me." "Of course!" he agreed, signing his name without a second thought. I frowned. "Aren't you going to look at it? What if… what if it's very expensive?" "As long as you like it, the price doesn't matter." His eyes were bright and sincere, without a trace of deception. I couldn't help but marvel at it. To love someone so much that you would do anything for them. It was just a shame that the person being loved wasn't me. I put the signed paper—the final page of our divorce agreement—in my bag and prepared to leave. But John, worried about me traveling alone while pregnant, insisted on taking me home. As we reached the hospital entrance, his assistant whispered something in his ear. John's face changed dramatically. He grabbed my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction. 3 He pushed me into a room and forced me into a chair. "She's O-negative! Take her blood!" Before I could react, a sharp needle pierced my skin. They drew six hundred milliliters of blood before they finally stopped. I was dizzy and weak, unable to stand. I heard a doctor say to John, "Don't worry, sir. Miss Sterling will be fine." Hearing this, John finally relaxed. He noticed me staring and offered a guilty explanation. "Grace, I'm doing this to build up good karma for our child. Even if it wasn't Bianca in danger, we couldn't just stand by and do nothing." I was too sick to listen. I just nodded numbly. "I understand. It's fine. You should stay and take care of her. I want to go home and rest." "Don't be silly. You're my wife. Of course I'm staying with you." John blew gently on the puncture mark on my arm, his face full of concern, and started to lead me home. On our way out, we ran into Bianca. "Grace, thank you for donating blood for me," she said with a bright smile. "Let me treat everyone to dinner as a small token of my appreciation." Before I could speak, John had eagerly agreed. At the restaurant, he ordered with practiced ease. He placed a glass of mango juice in front of me. "Bianca doesn't like this. You have it. It's good for the baby." I smiled, a sad, weary thing. He remembered all of Bianca's preferences but had forgotten my severe allergy to mangoes. Love and the lack of it are hidden in the details. It was painfully true. While John was in the restroom, Bianca casually revealed the jade amulet from under her collar, a smirk on her face. "Grace," she said, her voice a saccharine whisper, "they say a woman who gets fooled once is a fool. What do you call a woman who gets fooled twice?" "Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with you." I had no interest in her provocations. But she suddenly ripped the amulet from her neck, smashed it on the floor, and then slapped herself hard across the face, twice. "John!" she shrieked as he returned, "Grace still won't forgive me! She said I was trying to seduce you and threatened to scratch my face!" She threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Seeing the red marks on her cheeks, John didn't hesitate. He shoved me, sending me sprawling to the floor. "Grace! How can you be so vicious? How could you attack a sick person like that?!" The ringing in my head, the pain in my body—it all came rushing back, dragging me back to that week in hell. The foreign streets, the constant explosions. I was a leaf in a storm, tossed between life and death. And the man who had pulled me from that inferno, the man who had promised to love me for a lifetime, had now, for Bianca, used that same hand to push me into an even deeper abyss. The pain of the past and present collided. I began to tremble uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face. John, snapping back to his senses, was startled by my state. He started to stammer an explanation. "Grace, don't cry, I didn't mean it. I just… I lost my temper…" Beside him, Bianca's eyes also reddened. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't be here, getting in your way. Grace, I'm married now. I know I did things that hurt you in the past, but now I just want to live a quiet life with my husband." "Since you hate me so much, I'll just disappear from your life forever!" With that, she ran directly into the bustling street. John looked at me, his face a mask of conflict. After a brief hesitation, he chased after her. I swallowed my heartbreak and wiped my tears. Ignoring the strange looks from the people around me, I got up and left. On the way home, I received a text from John. "Grace, don't be angry. Bianca is an important client. I only gave her the amulet to secure our future partnership." "I didn't mean to push you. I just saw things wrong. Bianca's not well. Please, don't hold it against a sick person. I'll make it up to you when I get home." Pathetic excuses. A dismissive attitude. It was all I needed to know that he didn't care about the pain he had caused me. He was so sure of my love for him, so confident that I would believe anything he said. But how can a dead heart love again? Damien's betrayal had tortured my body and soul. John's lies had killed my heart completely. At this point, I didn't even have the strength to cry. I stared out the window at the fleeting scenery, a single thought in my mind. John, I hope when you see my 'body' tomorrow, you can be just as indifferent as you are right now.
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