"Bethany, Lana has her whole life ahead of her. She can't just die like this. Since your heart is a match, just help her this once! You've always been so kind. You'll do this, won't you? Lana will be grateful to you for the rest of her life." Inside a private dining room, Brandon Parker spoke to his wife, Bethany Gordon, his voice thick with pleading. Bethany's blood ran cold, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Do you even hear yourself? I'm over seven months pregnant, and you want me and our baby to die?" Today was his student Lana Barrett's birthday, and Brandon had gone out of his way to throw her this party. Lana came from a tragic background and suffered from congenital heart disease. Brandon had always taken extra care of her, and Bethany had never once complained. But just moments ago, Lana had suddenly pulled out a medical report. It showed that Bethany's heart was a perfect match for hers. But what hit Bethany harder than the shock was her husband's sheer callousness. He had chosen to sacrifice her and their unborn child without a second thought. "Bethany, I know it's unfair. But Lana is too young to die just like that. You're strong and healthy. I'll get you the best artificial heart money can buy, and we can always have another baby later. Just look at it as a good deed. Help Lana survive this, okay?" Brandon coaxed her. Watching him grovel for another woman while ruthlessly pressuring his own wife, Bethany felt a furious chill settle deep in her bones. "Brandon, do you even remember whose husband you are? You want to sacrifice me and our baby for an outsider. Do you even deserve to be called a husband? A father?" Her voice hardened. "I will never agree to something this ridiculous. Don't even try to guilt-trip me." The pleading gentleness vanished from Brandon's face. He roared, "Bethany, how can you be so selfish? How can an unborn fetus compare to a living, breathing person? We can have another kid, but Lana will die without this transplant. Stop being so cold-blooded, will you?" "Cold-blooded?" Bethany's eyes burned red, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "You're asking to trade the lives of your heavily pregnant wife and your own flesh and blood for your student. Tell me, who's the cold-blooded one here?" A dead silence fell over the room. The tension in the air was suffocating. Right then, Lana stepped forward, her eyes red. Tears spilled down her cheeks the second she opened her mouth. "Please... stop arguing! It's all my fault. I wasn't thinking straight." She ripped the report in half. "Today is April Fools' Day. I faked the report as a joke. I didn't mean to take it this far. Please, just stop fighting over this." "April Fools'?" Brandon froze. Recovering from his shock, he didn't even look angry. Instead, he reached out to pat Lana's head, his voice a gentle scolding. "Don't do this again. Your illness is nothing to joke about." "I know, Prof. Parker," Lana sniffled. As Bethany saw them acting so intimately right in front of her, the truth hit her like a physical blow—her husband was having an affair. The man who had stood at the altar and sworn to love and protect her for the rest of his life was now willing to sacrifice her and their unborn child for another woman. "Brandon, we're done." Her voice was pure ice. "I want a divorce." Brandon furrowed his brows, looking at her as if she were being completely unreasonable. "Over a harmless joke? Do you really have to throw the word 'divorce' around?" "To you, sacrificing my life and our baby's is a harmless joke?" Bethany sneered, though her heart was bleeding. "If this hadn't been a prank, what would you plan to do? Dragging me to the hospital, forcing an abortion, and carving out my heart for her?" Having nothing to defend himself, Brandon lashed out. "It was just a joke. Do you really have to blow it out of proportion? The Gordon family is bankrupt. You have no one to rely on, and you're still paying to keep your mother on life support. What right do you have to demand a divorce?" At those words, whatever warmth was left in Bethany's heart died. "Don't you ever forget who gave you everything you have, Brandon! Seven years ago, you were nothing. The Gordon family paid for your education. My father pulled the strings to get you that professorship at Aulford University. After we got married, I was the one staying up night after night, polishing your manuscripts and refining your work until you became this 'highly-respected' literary figure. My family gave everything to build you up. It's one thing to be an ungrateful bastard, but to use my mother's condition to threaten me? Do you have any conscience left at all?" With his shameful past dragged into the light, Brandon's face darkened with rage. Seeing this, Lana immediately stepped in front of him, playing the fierce protector. "I admit—I took the joke too far and made you angry. I apologize. But you shouldn't talk about Prof. Parker like that. He might not come from a wealthy background, but he built his success step by step. You have no right to look down on him." "Shut up!" Bethany shot her a lethal glare. "It's not your place to speak. He climbed the ladder by leeching off my family's resources, and you're clinging to his coattails. In the end, you're doing the exact same thing as he is. Your little April Fools' prank was just a deliberate test of where I drew the line, wasn't it? Now that you've successfully turned my husband against me, drop the innocent act." Lana turned deathly pale, rendered completely speechless. A second later, she swayed violently. Clutching her chest and gasping for air, she collapsed to the floor. "My heart... it hurts so much..." "Lana!" Brandon panicked, scooping her into his arms. "Don't be afraid. I'm taking you to the hospital right now." Before rushing out, he shot a venomous glare at Bethany. "Look what you've done! You know Lana has a weak heart. If anything happens to her today, I will make you pay for it." After they left, the silence in the private room gave way to hushed, gossiping whispers. "His wife is heavily pregnant, and Prof. Parker just left her behind? Did you see how frantic he was over Lana?" "A couple of days ago, some students saw Prof. Parker and Lana hugging in the woods. I didn't expect her to be a home-wrecker." "Well, don't all men like young, pretty girls? Prof. Parker is a big deal now. He and his wife aren't even in the same league anymore." Every word, every whispered sentence pierced Bethany's heart like a needle. She whipped her head around, the shock still raw in her eyes. "What did you just say?" "N-nothing. It's getting late. We should head back to campus." Realizing they had said too much, the students quickly grabbed their things and scurried out. Bethany stood alone in the empty room, her face terrifyingly pale. She had given Brandon her entire heart, and in the end, her marriage was nothing but a sick joke. Outside the restaurant, the wind howled, and the rain came down in torrential sheets. Bethany tried every ride-hailing app on her phone, but by the time the restaurant closed its doors, not a single driver had accepted her request. Left with no choice, she cradled her heavy belly and stepped out alone into the pouring rain. The downpour was relentless, the night wind biting straight through her clothes. Even with an umbrella, Bethany was soon soaked to the bone. She hadn't walked far before a dull, heavy ache began to throb in her lower abdomen. Her phone chimed. Lana had just posted an update. Bethany tapped the notification. The attached picture was taken from behind—a man and a woman snuggled tightly together in a movie theater. The caption read, "I don't want to get too mushy, but I'm so grateful to have you by my side." It had been posted just moments ago. As Bethany stared at the glaring photo, the pain in her abdomen suddenly flared. She gritted her teeth, wrapping her arms protectively around her belly. "Baby, it's okay. Even if your daddy isn't around, Mommy will protect you. You need to be strong." Suddenly, a beat-up van swerved and slammed to a halt by the curb. Several thugs with tattoos piled out, gripping baseball bats. Eyes locked on her, they marched straight in her direction.

Bethany's face drained of color. Instinctively shielding her stomach, she stumbled backward. The thugs closed in fast. Their leader, a bleach-blond man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, rhythmically tapped a baseball bat against his palm. "Well, you're not bad-looking. Too bad someone wants your baby dead. If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself for pissing off the wrong person." Bethany fought to keep her voice steady. "You just want money, right? Let me go, and I'll pay you double!" The leader hesitated for a moment. They were hired muscle; naturally, they went where the money was. But every line of work had its rules. He pulled out his phone and initiated a video call. After hearing him out, the woman on the other end sneered. "Double? She's just a housewife. Where would she get that kind of cash? I've already given you the deposit. If you're that worried, I can transfer the balance right now." A second later, a payment notification chimed on the leader's phone. His face instantly lit up, and he tapped to accept the transfer. "Alright then. Consider it done!" The next second, a vicious slap snapped Bethany's head to the side. "You bitch!" the leader spat. "You almost played me!" Ignoring the stinging pain in her cheek, Bethany stared fixedly at the phone in the man's hand. That voice was entirely too familiar. It was Lana. Why? Why would Lana want to harm her baby? "What are you idiots standing around for?" the leader barked. "Beat her!" At his command, a rain of clubs and bats came crashing down on Bethany. A massive clap of thunder drowned out her agonized screams for help. A warm, heavy stream flowed down her inner thighs. Crimson blood instantly washed into the pooling rainwater. Bethany lay crumpled on the ground, barely clinging to life. The leader stared down at her with cold indifference. He lowered his bat and glanced at his men. "That's enough. Any more and she'll die!" The thugs knew when to call it. They quickly piled into their van and vanished into the pitch-black night. Agony radiated through every inch of her body. Forcing herself to move, Bethany crawled agonizingly slowly and grabbed her phone, its screen now shattered on the wet pavement. She couldn't die. She still had her baby. Blood from a gash on her forehead seeped into her eyes, dyeing the world red, but her gaze held nothing but bottomless hatred. Using her last ounce of strength, she tried to dial 911. However, her violently trembling fingers slipped, accidentally opening a five-person group chat named "The Fab Five." Her eyelids were incredibly heavy. Operating on pure instinct, she struggled to type out two words. "Help me." The second the message sent, her consciousness completely faded, and the darkness took her. Her phone vibrated relentlessly as the previously quiet group chat instantly exploded. Nobody Actor asked, "What's going on? Tough Coder, where are you right now?" CrapGameDev said, "I tried calling Tough Coder, but no one's answering." Legal Beagle chimed in, "I've already called the cops. They can trace the location." Busy Bee offered, "I just pulled her IP address. I'm on my way there." Nobody Actor replied, "I'm out of town, but I'll cover whatever it costs. Nothing bad can happen to Tough Coder!" ... Out in the pitch-black night, the torrential downpour showed no signs of stopping. A black Maybach sat idling by the curb with several cars in its wake, its headlights piercing the heavy curtain of rain to illuminate the flooded street. Collin Foster, the executive assistant, looked toward the back seat and spoke with deep respect. "Mr. Clarke, the final traced location is right in this area." Half of the man in the back seat was swallowed by the shadows, his very presence exuding a freezing, oppressive aura. His thin lips parted slightly, his voice cold and low. "Search!" Several bodyguards in black immediately scattered into the storm. Before long, an urgent shout cut through the rain. "Found someone! It's a pregnant woman, and she's barely holding on." Wyatt Clarke shoved his car door open and sprinted forward, completely ignoring Collin, who scrambled after him with an umbrella. He found a woman soaked in blood, collapsed in a puddle. Her breathing was dangerously shallow; she was already at death's door. Crouching beside her, he picked up the phone from the wet ground. The shattered screen was still lit. It was locked onto "The Fab Five" group chat. Scrolling up, he saw logs of the members casually discussing code and fixing game bugs. To his absolute shock, the dying pregnant woman in front of him was actually the group's resident tech genius, Tough Coder. Wyatt's eyes turned instantly glacial. He scooped Bethany up and strode quickly back to the Maybach. "Get her to the hospital immediately. Mobilize their top medical team and do whatever it takes to save her. I want every piece of information on her within half an hour." Collin hurried after him, making rapid-fire phone calls to arrange the emergency procedures. The car tore away, slicing a slit through the darkness and soon reached the hospital. "The patient is hemorrhaging heavily, and her life is failing. We must operate on her right now." The doctor threw the words over his shoulder as he spun around and rushed into the OR. Wyatt stood outside the operating room, a chilling aura radiating from him. He pulled out his phone and quickly updated everyone in the group chat on the situation. Before long, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Collin jogged over, clutching a thick stack of documents. "Mr. Clarke, the background check you requested." The file detailed a tragic spiral. Both of her parents had been literary heavyweights who co-founded Bethania Literary Press. Bethany herself had been a celebrated prodigy at Aulford University, destined for a bright, seamless future. Then, a car crash three years ago took her father's life and left her mother severely injured, paralyzed in a vegetative state. The successive blows had left Bethany with severe psychological trauma. That was when Brandon stepped in. Previously supported financially by the Gordon family, he took the initiative to handle all of her family affairs when the family fell on hard times. Shortly after the funeral, the two were engaged. From then on, Bethany poured her heart and soul into the relationship. She exhausted all her resources and connections to pave Brandon's way, willingly acting as his nameless ghostwriter in the shadows. She had even handed him full control of her family's publishing house. Little did she know, the husband she had sacrificed everything for was secretly having an affair with a female student. As Wyatt finished reading, a complex glint flashed in his eyes. Standing nearby, Collin added, "Her husband is currently accompanying his student, Lana Barrett. The thugs from tonight have been apprehended; our men found out they were hired by Lana." Wyatt let out a dark sneer. "His wife is hemorrhaging at death's door, yet he is holding another woman in his arms. What a bastard!" At noon the next day, Bethany slowly drifted awake. The harsh, sterile scent of disinfectant assaulted her senses, and the sight of the stark white ceiling instantly made her realize she was in a hospital. "You're awake?" A cool, clear voice sounded right by her ear. Only then did she notice the man sitting by her bed. He was dressed in a crisp white tracksuit, his hair styled in a textured cut with slightly parted bangs. His features were striking, but it was his eyes that stood out—they held a deep, grounded steadiness that seemed far beyond his years. Before she had time to ask who he was, he spoke again. "I'm sorry. The child did not survive." Bethany's hand shot instinctively to her abdomen. Her palm met only flatness. The baby was really gone. In a heartbeat, every ounce of color drained from her face, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Her baby... "Don't cry; it's bad for your eyes. According to the doctor, you need to rest and avoid major emotional fluctuations," Wyatt said gently. Bethany drew in a shaky breath, suppressing the suffocating wave of grief, and asked in a raw, hoarse voice, "Who are you?" "I'm the one who brought you to the hospital." "Thank you for saving me. I won't forget this kindness." Wyatt's lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. "Why so formal with me? Am I a stranger to you?" "What?" Bethany stared at him, her eyes clouded with utter confusion. She had absolutely no memory of this man's face. "Do we know each other?"

"I'm Busy Bee from 'The Fab Five.' I saw your SOS, tracked your location, and came straight here," Wyatt explained. "You're Busy Bee?" Bethany stared at him in disbelief. She recalled he was a tech guy in the game development department at Clarke Group's overseas branch. He rarely spoke, spending most of his time lurking in the group chat. But when he did chime in, he always hit the nail on the head. She'd always pictured him as a socially awkward programmer in a plaid flannel and thick, black-rimmed glasses. She never expected him to be this strikingly handsome in person. "I thought you were based overseas," she added. "I just got transferred back," Wyatt replied flatly. "I've already contacted the police. The thugs who attacked you last night are in custody, but they insisted it was just a drunken impulse." Bethany bit her lower lip so hard that the heavy, metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. Lana had no real power or influence. There was no way she could force a gang of thugs to keep their mouths shut so tightly; someone had to be covering her tracks behind the scenes. Bethany didn't even have to guess who that someone was—her husband. "You just had a uterine curettage, so you're strictly on a liquid diet. I'll go down to the cafeteria and get you some soup." Wyatt stood up and left the hospital room. The door clicked shut behind him. Outside, Collin looked completely baffled. "Mr. Clarke, why are you keeping your identity a secret? You even changed into cheap sportswear. With your resources, you could pry those thugs' mouths open in a heartbeat. And I thought you would tell her you'd traced it back to Lana." Last night, Wyatt had been absolutely furious, yet today, he was unusually calm and restrained. Collin couldn't wrap his head around it. Wyatt stood before the elevator, his gaze icy. "I need to determine if she's worth my full support. She's highly talented, but unfortunately, she's too obsessed with her husband to see his true colors. When someone is trapped in the wrong marriage, it doesn't matter how hard others try to pull them out. If she doesn't wake up on her own, no one can save her." He turned his head, asking lightly, "Are you sure it was the Barrett family who intervened last night?" "Yes." Collin nodded. "Lana is Jacob Barrett's illegitimate daughter. The Barrett family stepped in to pay off the thugs. Brandon seems completely unaware of this." Just then, the elevator doors slid open. Wyatt stepped inside, letting out a cold sneer. "The devoted husband everyone praises is nothing but a PR persona." Twenty minutes later, Collin eyed the takeout container in Wyatt's hands and quickly spoke up. "Mr. Clarke, you can leave these trivial errands to me. Why go to the cafeteria yourself?" "My current identity is a low-level tech guy. I don't warrant an executive assistant." Wyatt carried the soup and headed back into the hospital room. Collin stood rooted to the spot. Was his CEO actually roleplaying right now? The hospital room door was pushed open from the outside, and Wyatt stepped in. Bethany looked up at him with gratitude. "Thank you," she said softly. For an entire night, Brandon hadn't made a single phone call or offered a word of concern, completely tossing her—his lawful wife—to the back of his mind. In contrast, an internet friend she had never even met was running around taking care of her during her darkest hour. How ironic. Bethany took the soup, forcing it down in small, slow bites. Even though she had no appetite, she had to nurse her body back to health. The people who had hurt her still hadn't paid the price; she could not collapse yet. After finishing the soup, Bethany looked at Wyatt, her voice weak. "I've already hired a caregiver. You can head back to work; you don't need to waste your time here." "Then get some rest." Wyatt stood up. "Everyone in the group is worried about you. They specifically asked me to make sure you're okay. Call me anytime if you need anything." Bethany didn't think much of it. A while back, she had fixed a notoriously difficult bug on a gaming forum. The original poster had been so impressed by her skills that they pulled her into a private group of just four gaming enthusiasts. They exchanged tech knowledge online and occasionally vented about life. Normally, they were just casual internet friends. But last night, the second they saw her SOS, this group of strangers had scrambled into a panic, doing everything in their power to help her. They had even begged Wyatt, the only local, to rush to the scene. At the thought of it, a warm wave of emotion welled up in Bethany's chest. Even internet friends she had never met treated her like this, yet her own husband... Right at that moment, the hospital room door was shoved open. Brandon marched in briskly. Taking in Bethany's pale face, he grabbed her hand. "Bethany, it's all my fault. I just got a call from the police. They said you were attacked by a gang of thugs last night and lost the baby. How are you doing? Where does it hurt?" At the mention of the baby who had died before even taking a breath, a sharp, agonizing pang pierced Bethany's heart. She violently ripped her hand from his grasp, her eyes filled with nothing but bone-chilling hatred. "Lana was the one who hired them last night. She ordered those thugs to corner me and murder our baby brutally." Lana, who had trailed in right behind him, looked the picture of innocent grievance. "How could you say that? How could I possibly do something so vicious? I stayed with Prof. Parker the entire night. I never left his side. I swear I didn't hire anyone to hurt you, let alone your baby." The Barrett family had already cleaned up the mess with the thugs. Even if Bethany accused her, Brandon would never believe it. All she had to do was shed a few tears, and Brandon would be convinced that Bethany had orchestrated the whole thing just to frame her. Brandon immediately jumped to Lana's defense. "That's impossible. Lana is the kindest soul I've ever met; she could never do something like that. Bethany, I know you're hurting because you just lost the baby, but you can't just throw around false accusations." Bethany stared straight at him, refusing to back down an inch. "You don't believe me? Fine. I'll call the police right now. Lana has their contact info and the bank transfer records on her phone. One investigation, and the truth will come out." "I swear, I really didn't do it. If you don't believe me, you can check my phone right now," Lana pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears. "Enough. Stop making a scene." Impatience flared in Brandon's eyes. "You've been on antidepressants for a long time, so your mental state is already fragile. You just went through a miscarriage and suffered a massive shock. That's why you jumped to conclusions. Just stop making wild accusations against Lana." "If you think I'm falsely accusing her, then we should absolutely call the police and let them clear her name!" Bethany retorted coldly. Brandon lost his temper completely. "I'm about to hold a new book launch. If you call the police now and blow this out of proportion, my future will be ruined. If my reputation is destroyed and I lose my income, who's going to pay for your mother's medical bills?" The blatant favoritism, the endless threats and manipulation—it completely shattered the last shred of Bethany's patience. Fury surged through her veins. She grabbed the water glass from the nightstand and hurled it fiercely at the floor. With a sharp crash, the glass shattered into pieces. "Get out! Both of you, get out right now!" she yelled. Shards flew everywhere. Lana let out a soft shriek, shrinking back as she put on a terrified, tearful display. Seeing this, Brandon immediately shielded her behind his back, his expression turning downright ugly. He glared at Bethany, his voice dripping with cold reprimand. "Are you done throwing your little tantrum? Lana came to see you out of kindness, yet you repay her with verbal abuse and physical attacks. You really don't know what's good for you. Just stay in the hospital and reflect on your behavior for the next few days, so you don't go out and cause any more trouble." With that, he kept a protective arm around Lana and marched briskly out the door. The hospital room fell into a dead silence. Bethany slowly made her way to the window. As she looked down at the intimate figures of the two of them leaving the building, her eyes frosted over with a chilling resolve. Their baby had died, yet Brandon hadn't shown the slightest hint of grief. Instead, all he cared about was his own future, his fame, and his fortune. He hadn't held her in his heart for a long time. All his tenderness and devotion were reserved entirely for Lana. Since he cherished his reputation and future above all else, she would personally tear apart his glamorous facade. She would destroy the things he cared about most, piece by piece. Outside the door, two figures slipped past.