
Eleven Miscarriages, One Final Cut
After her eleventh miscarriage, Clara Fulton became pregnant again. To protect the pregnancy, she lay in a hospital bed day after day, enduring injection after injection, waiting for the special drug meant to save her child.
Then she discovered the truth. Her husband of eight years, Ethan Grayson, had already given that one dose of the special drug to his newly pregnant mistress.
Clara wiped the tears from her face and made a ruthless decision, ending the pregnancy she had fought so desperately to keep.
She no longer wanted a man who wavered between women. But anyone who betrayed sincerity would have to pay a price.
She took out a phone she had never once used and dialed the only number saved on it.
"You wanted me to acknowledge you as my father, didn't you? Come pick me up in a week. I'll take your seat."
She had no idea that after she left, Ethan would kneel before every god he could think of, praying for nothing but her return.
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Chapter 2
Ethan frowned deeply, urgency creeping across his face.
Clara's gaze fell on the words "ten minutes" on the tablet, her heart tightening at once.
Ethan's anxious voice rang in her ears.
"There's a shootout in the west side. The second-in-command and his people are at each other's throats. I'm the only one who can keep it under control. Honey, if I don't go, people will die."
Before Clara could even respond, he turned and hurried away.
He really was worried he wouldn't make it within ten minutes.
Clara let out a cold laugh and began tapping rapidly on her tablet. Her computer skills were exceptional. Hacking into Ethan's phone and tracking his location was effortless for her.
She had simply never bothered to do something like this before.
What she hadn't expected was that in less than ten minutes, Ethan appeared at the old house in the slums where she, Ethan, and her mother had once lived.
After her mother passed away, she sold the old house. She needed money for the funeral, and she feared greedy relatives would swoop in and take everything. So she took Ethan and left, struggling to survive elsewhere.
That house carried her memories with her mother, and the bond she shared with Ethan.
After they finally gained money and power, Ethan bought the house back immediately and gave it to her as a birthday gift.
Yet they hadn't returned there in a very long time.
Clara sent a voice call request to Ethan's phone and remotely forced it to connect. At once, Ethan's ingratiating voice came through. "Ten minutes. Just in time. I'm not late."
A loud kiss echoed, followed by a woman's soft, delicate voice. "At least you made the right choice. I thought you were going to ditch me for that old woman."
Ethan showed no displeasure at all. Instead, he kept coaxing her.
"You heartless little thing. I come to see you the moment I get free. Look, this is the Heart of True Love diamond ring I just won at auction. It's for you."
Clara froze slightly, bitterness flooding her chest.
She remembered how a woman once mocked her for being old. Ethan had walked up and slapped that woman several times without hesitation.
Six months ago, when the Heart of True Love ring was first released, he promised he would buy it for her no matter what.
Now, he handed it to another woman without the slightest hesitation.
Listening to their flirting, Clara felt as if her heart were bleeding.
After her mother died, the slum house filled her with fear and grief. Whenever she came close, tears would spill uncontrollably, the pain so intense it made her faint.
Every time she tried to endure the pain and go back, Ethan would stop her, his face full of concern.
So that was why. He was afraid she'd discover his affair.
The woman's breathless moans and the man's hoarse growls filled her ears, thick with desire.
Just from the sounds, Clara knew exactly where they were. On the sofa her mother had loved most.
On the table nearby sat her mother's portrait and ashes.
If her mother could see this from beyond the grave, how much would it break her heart for Clara?
Clara covered her mouth, sobbing soundlessly. Yet she forced herself to listen to every unbearable sound.
At last, she wiped away her tears, resolve slowly hardening on her face.
She pulled out a phone she had never used from beneath her pillow and dialed the only number saved on it.
"Didn't you always want me to acknowledge you as my father? Come pick me up in three days. I'll agree to become your heir."
Clara had stayed here for love. Now that love was gone, there was no reason to remain.
During the six months Clara spent in the hospital, Ethan came every evening to eat with her, talk with her, and stay by her bedside until she fell asleep.
In all of Asterfall, everyone knew she was the woman closest to his heart.
Yet no one knew that even a man like him could be unfaithful.
Ethan sat by the hospital bed, arranging the meal in front of Clara and lifting his spoon to feed her. Then he looked up and saw her swollen, tear-filled eyes.
He hurried over and pulled Clara into his arms, gently patting her back.
"What's wrong? Is the baby bothering you again? When the baby's born, you'll have to teach him a lesson."
He lifted food to her lips. Clara opened her mouth numbly, swallowing mechanically without sparing him a single glance.
Suddenly, nausea surged up her throat, and she turned aside to vomit.
Without a second thought, Ethan reached out and caught what she threw up.
He didn't care about his cleanliness at all, his eyes filled only with concern for her.
He had always been this considerate, his world seemingly revolving entirely around Clara.
In the past, Clara would have been deeply moved.
But now she knew the truth. The carefully prepared pregnancy diet wasn't made for her at all. It had been designed by a nutritionist specifically for Ivy Zane.
She was nothing more than an afterthought.
Just moments earlier on the voice call, Clara had clearly heard Ivy retching, spitting out the soup she had just swallowed.
"Honey, it smells too strong. I can't drink it."
Ethan coaxed her tenderly.
"If you can't drink it, then don't."
"Pour it out. I couldn't help it earlier and threw up in it."
Ethan chuckled softly. "Alright. I'll dump it into the trash later."
And at that very moment, the soup that was meant for the trash was being spooned into Clara's mouth by Ethan.
At that moment, countless thoughts flooded Clara's mind…
She even wondered whether the meals he had brought her before might have also…
A wave of indescribable disgust surged up. Clara could no longer hold it back and leaned over the bed, retching into the trash can.
But the moment she saw the trash can, a deep sorrow washed over her.
So in Ethan's eyes, was she nothing more than a trash can?
Pressure tightened in her abdomen, accompanied by a sharp, hidden pain, as if the child inside her were protesting.
Clara cried out in pain, tears spilling freely at last.
After all their years as husband and wife, how could Ethan humiliate her like this?
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8.0
Elena never planned on marrying a stranger, especially not someone engaged to her sister. But when her sister disappears days before the wedding, Elena is forced into an arrangement she never agreed to, with a man she knew nothing about.
Nathaniel Sinclair, billionaire heir with his dreamy looks and charming attitude is just as unenthusiastic about the situation as she is. Their marriage begins with distance, awkward silences and the quiet understanding that neither of them asked for this.
But as days turn into weeks and forced proximity becomes a regular thing, Elena starts to wonder: what happens when two people trapped in an arrangement begin to fall for each other?
It was never meant to be love. But love has a way of rewriting the rules.

7.1
I woke up gasping for air, expecting the cold concrete of a prison cell, but my fingers sank into the plush leather of a luxury Lincoln. I was twenty-four again, wearing the silver silk dress from the night my life was systematically destroyed.
Beside me sat my cousin Catrina, the woman whose carefully crafted lies had orchestrated my ruin and sent me to a penitentiary for five years.
In my first life, this was the night the dominoes fell. Catrina stole my jewelry to paint me as mentally unstable, and by morning, I was stripped of my medical license and labeled a criminal. My mother’s family, the Montgomerys, stood by and watched as my father’s company was devoured by wolves, treating my existence like a "liability" that needed to be managed. I still felt the phantom tremors in my hands from prison fights and the stinging betrayal of being discarded by the people I called family.
I had lived through five years of absolute hell, a former surgeon rotting in a cell while the people who framed me toasted to their success at galas I was no longer invited to.
"Don't be selfish, Dawn," Catrina whispered, reaching for the necklace that would later be used as evidence against me. "Let the jewelry shine on someone who actually matters."
She thought I was still the fragile victim she could manipulate, but she didn't realize I had returned from the grave with the cold, clinical calculation of a fixer.
Instead of walking into her trap at the gala, I forced the car onto a dark service road and dragged a dying billionaire, Jennings Stafford, from the wreckage of a burning SUV.
He was the only man powerful enough to destroy my enemies, and as I stitched his wounds with stolen supplies, I didn't ask for a thank you.
I looked him dead in the eye and proposed a contract that would set the world on fire.
"I want a strategic marriage. You get a harmless wife with a legacy name to calm your board, and I get immunity from everyone who ever touched me."
The bill for my five years in prison had finally come due, and I was here to collect.

7.8
Helen was finally brought back to the luxurious Gallagher estate as their long-lost blood relative.
But her new family didn't welcome her; they looked at her with undisguised disgust.
The matriarch mocked her stench of poverty, while her step-sister Candice treated her like a feral animal. The patriarch, Fredy—who had built his empire by betraying Helen's mother—tried to break her spirit. He blackmailed Helen into attending a high-society gala by threatening to cut off her grandmother's medical funds.
At the gala, Candice squeezed into a diamond-encrusted gown, desperate to seduce the guest of honor, Damian Montgomery. Damian was the most powerful man in New York, and he was currently tearing the city apart looking for a mysterious woman named Jane.
Overhearing this, a sick, greedy smile spread across Candice's face. She planned to impersonate Jane to claim Damian's wealth and completely crush Helen under her heel.
"Hide in the corner tonight. Don't you dare try to speak to anyone important!"
They all thought Helen was just a helpless, uncultured country girl they could easily manipulate and step on to secure their stolen legacy.
What they didn't know was that Helen was the real Jane. She was the lethal shadow who had saved Damian in the woods, shattered his grip, and robbed his highly guarded vault just the night before.
Helen calmly adjusted her simple black dress and stepped into the ballroom, ready to tear their stolen world apart.

7.2
Nina had been by Julian's side for ten years, ostensibly as his personal doctor, but in reality, she was his lover.
Whenever he was injured in conflicts, she treated him; during his moments of loneliness, she was there to comfort him.
Nina believed that if she devoted enough, she would eventually win his heart.
That was until his idealized love returned to the country, rendering Nina worthless in his eyes, and he discarded her like yesterday's news.
Even his assistant couldn't bear to see it and advised Julian to appreciate her, but he scoffed at the suggestion. "Nina was never part of my life plan. I kept her around because she bore a slight resemblance to Aria."
In that instant, Nina's infatuation seemed like a joke.
When he wrapped his arm around his idealized love's waist, smiling as he asked her to help plan their wedding, Nina didn't cry or cause a scene; she just smiled through her tears and obediently agreed.
Then she turned around and dialed a number. "There are seven days left in the ten-year commitment. I am applying for termination, and from now on, I will have nothing to do with Julian."

9.8
Adeline's stepmother had secretly drugged her for years, turning a child genius into a drooling, mentally disabled laughingstock just so her stepsister could steal her life.
But when her greedy father sold her off to Griffin Herring—a violent, untouchable billionaire psychopath—to save his company, things took a deadly turn.
Before the wedding, Griffin attacked her in a dark alley, nearly snapping her neck before stealing her grandfather's silver necklace.
That necklace held a micro-drive with her family's deepest secrets, and without it, she had nothing.
Back at the estate, her situation only worsened. Her stepsister Damaris paraded around in the Herring family's diamond engagement gifts, trying to force-feed Adeline wet dog food on an Instagram live stream.
When Adeline's calculated "clumsiness" ruined the video, her furious father locked her in a damp, rusted basement.
"Give her to the psycho," her stepmother hissed through the door. "Let him lock her away forever."
Listening from the shadows, Adeline's fists clenched until her palms bled.
Her supposed mental fog wasn't a tragedy—it was a calculated assassination of her mind. They had destroyed her childhood and were now throwing her to a monster just to keep the billions.
The dull, empty look in Adeline's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp, chilling clarity.
She pulled a thin surgical needle from her messy bun and picked the heavy iron padlock in ten seconds. It was time to break into the billionaire's penthouse, take back her necklace, and tear them all apart.

8.1
Allison was hiding in a dusty small-town garage, working as a mechanic to suppress the lethal, experimental serum freezing her veins.
But a call from her estranged, wealthy father shattered her peace.
He threatened to permanently freeze her dead mother's trust fund if she didn't return to the family estate immediately.
That trust fund held the only key to the truth behind her past and her survival.
When she stepped into the sprawling mansion in her faded hoodie, her family treated her like a stray dog.
Her stepmother mocked her cheap clothes, and her half-brother called her a piece of trash.
Her father tossed a vocational school enrollment form at her, telling her to learn to sew so they could marry her off to anyone desperate enough.
Her perfect, porcelain-doll stepsister Gwyneth even deliberately smashed a glass of boiling milk against her own leg.
"Why did you push me?!" Gwyneth screamed, crying tears of fake terror to frame Allison.
"You vicious bitch! You're just as sick as your mother!" her father roared, raising his hand to strike her.
They looked at her with absolute disgust, thinking she was just a stupid, uncultured hick they could easily manipulate and destroy.
They had no idea that the girl standing before them was a lethal operative who already possessed all their offshore tax ledgers and darkest secrets.
Allison easily caught her father's wrist mid-air, her grip like a steel vice.
"I'm not going to a trade school," she whispered coldly, ripping the form into pieces. "I am going to Crestwood Academy."
It was time to take back everything that belonged to her, with interest.