Chapter 2

Blood from my arm pooled on the floor, the pain snapping me back to reality.

"What happened? You're in postpartum recovery—don't you know to take care of yourself?"

"Drink some of the mushroom soup Mom made."

Ethan held my IV tube with one hand and fed me soup with the other.

His tone was gentle, as if he'd already forgotten his naked confession moments ago.

My throat felt raw. Eyes red, I stared at him stubbornly.

"Ethan, why?"

"Why did you lie to me? The marriage license is fake, being Mrs. Holt is fake—what's real?!"

My voice grew more agitated, my chest heaving violently, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

Ethan set down the bowl. His peach-blossom eyes, which once held only me when we were in love, now looked cold as frost.

"Vivian, you've forgotten about that incident. I never will."

"Five years ago, the three of us traveled abroad and encountered kidnappers. I was taken to Myanmar, and it was Jessica who risked her life to save me, while you just turned and ran."

He shot me a mocking glance, his tone carrying a hint of vengeful pleasure.

"But you didn't escape. You were violated instead."

At those words, I froze completely, my entire body shrouded in bone-chilling cold.

Five years ago during that conflict, Jessica had deliberately reported our location to local scammers to save herself.

I ran thirty kilometers barefoot to transmit our location to the Holt family.

My feet were rubbed raw, my arm dislocated from an explosion, even my back burned with horrifying scars.

I finally reached the signal camp, but I was discovered, dragged, and thrown into hell.

When I got out, Ethan's face was tight, silent.

I wanted to explain, but he shouted with red eyes:

"No one is allowed to mention this again!"

But he thought it was Jessica.

My heart went ice-cold: "If you think I'm a coward, why the fake marriage? Why endure this for five years?"

Ethan laughed coldly as he wiped the blood from my arm.

But his eyes looked tenderly toward Jessica, who was chatting and laughing at the door.

"Jessica became permanently infertile because she saved me. I owe her a child."

"And you—you owe me."

He paused, his expression growing colder.

"I tried to forget what happened, tried to forget that you were already dirty. But whenever I think of you running away like a madwoman, I feel disgusted, even physically repulsed."

I laughed. Laughed until tears streamed down, laughed until I couldn't breathe.

All because of a fabricated life-saving favor, Ethan spent five years making me birth a child that would be Jessica's.

For five years, because I had difficulty conceiving, I took injections and medications daily, did IVF treatments.

My body accumulated new injuries on top of old ones until I was barely recognizable.

I thought I was sacrificing for love, but it was all a monstrous lie.

Ethan roughly wiped away my tears.

"Why are you crying? It's not like I won't support you or love you anymore."

"As long as you let Jessica raise the child, you're still the prestigious Mrs. Holt."

Those words completely shattered the emotions I'd been suppressing.

I parted my cracked lips and screamed hysterically:

"In your dreams! This is fraud! Ethan, aren't you afraid I'll report you to the court!"

Ethan watched me finish my outburst coldly, then said lightly:

"Go ahead and report it. But you probably don't want custody of the child anymore."

Those words struck me like lightning, my ears ringing.

I didn't believe it. I tried to call my lawyer friends, but Ethan smiled cruelly.

"Go ahead and call. But Vivian, you need to understand—without me, you're nothing."

After Ethan left, I started hopefully dialing lawyers one by one.

But in the end, some answered saying they were busy, others directly said they didn't dare take the case.

Just as my emotions were about to collapse, that afternoon I was moved from the VIP room directly to the crowded hallway.