An earsplitting wail came from the heart monitor as its trace flattened into a straight line. "We did all we could." Looking at the three-year-old girl lying on the hospital bed, the doctor shook his head with quiet regret. For fifteen agonizing hours, Rylee Olson waited outside the operating room while her daughter underwent surgery. Though the doctors had done everything possible, they failed to bring her back. "Your daughter was desperate to see her father before the operation. Please get your husband to the hospital so he can see his daughter one final time," the doctor said, sighing heavily. With her eyes swollen and red, Rylee took out her phone and called her husband, Evan Marshall. Three days had passed since their daughter, Aria Marshall, had been admitted to the hospital with a high fever, yet she couldn't get hold of Evan. Rylee had just resigned herself to another unanswered call when someone finally picked up the phone. Rylee spoke hoarsely, her voice breaking as she sobbed. "Evan, you need to come to the hospital. Aria—" "What is so unusual about Aria ending up in the hospital?" Evan interrupted her with obvious impatience. "Rylee, how much longer are you going to keep exploiting Aria's illness to manipulate me?" In Rylee's arms, her daughter's small body grew a little colder with every passing second. Their little girl had already died, yet Evan still believed she was only putting on an act. A woman's sweet voice suddenly came through the phone. "Evan, just listen to how strong the baby's heartbeat sounds." A doctor's voice followed. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall. The baby is developing well and appears perfectly healthy." Rylee's eyes suddenly widened in disbelief. Was Evan accompanying another woman to her prenatal appointment? At Willster General Hospital, the obstetrics wing stood right beside the pediatric wing. Rylee staggered along the corridor toward the obstetrics wing. Evan came out of the obstetrics department, keeping an attractive woman tucked close beside him. Rylee knew that face at once. The woman was Claire Collins, whom Evan had never been able to get over. Their daughter had just died, yet Evan had been accompanying Claire to her prenatal appointment. A shiver seemed to spread through Rylee's entire body. When Evan raised his head and spotted Rylee, he immediately dropped his arm from Claire's waist. His expression darkened with irritation. "What are you doing here?" With bloodshot eyes, Rylee looked straight at him. "Are you not even going to ask how Aria is?" "She is making a fuss over nothing, as usual," Evan replied indifferently. "Every other time, she was fine after a few days in the hospital. This time will be no different." Rylee tightened both hands into fists. Claire leaned comfortably against Evan, a distinctly provocative gleam in her eyes. "So you must be Rylee. I appreciate you taking such good care of Evan on my behalf." She was making it perfectly clear to Rylee that Evan belonged to her. Turning toward Rylee, Evan said, "Claire is expecting a baby. I'm taking her back to our place. From now on, I expect you to look after her properly." Rylee glared at him, her eyes bloodshot. "And why exactly should I do that?" For a moment, Evan had no response. Throughout their marriage, Rylee had always done whatever he asked of her. Not once had she refused him. This was the very first time she had ever talked back to him like that. Evan flew into a rage. "Claire's an exceptionally skilled designer, and I paid a great deal to recruit her from overseas. She's still working for the company despite her pregnancy. As a housewife, you have no idea how hard that is. You are living off the Marshall family's money, so the least you can do is be grateful." Rylee balled her hands so tightly that her nails left crescent-shaped marks in her palms. Since marrying into the Marshall family, she hadn't spent a single cent of their money. On the contrary, she had to pay the household bills out of the savings she had accumulated before marriage, because her mother-in-law and sister-in-law squandered money freely. "I'm feeling tired," Claire whispered to Evan in a soft, delicate voice. Evan promptly supported her around the waist. "The doctor warned you against overexerting yourself. We should get you home so you can lie down and rest." Claire gave Rylee a triumphant lift of her eyebrow, then moved even closer to Evan as they walked away together. Rylee brushed the cold tears off her cheeks. She had no time to fall apart. Her daughter still needed to be laid to rest. She took a few unsteady steps before darkness swept across her vision and she began falling helplessly toward the floor. A man came into view just before she passed out. Desperately, she caught hold of his sleeve as though it were her only lifeline. "Please... contact a funeral home for me..." Kristopher Campbell was on his way to visit his grandmother when a woman suddenly grabbed hold of him and fainted straight into his arms. She appeared to be in her early twenties. Her face was as delicate as a doll's, but it was utterly pale and drained of color. Holding her felt like cradling a fallen leaf, so weightless was her body that he hardly dared to draw a breath. The doctor came over and spotted Rylee in Kristopher's arms. Furious, he began scolding him. "What kind of husband behaves like this? Your wife spent three days tending to your daughter without a moment to rest, yet you did not even come to see her when she died. Have you no heart at all? You are an absolute bastard!" Kristopher was seldom one to reveal his feelings. He glanced at the unconscious woman he was holding, then at the doctor shouting at him. A flicker of bewilderment passed through his eyes. Since when did he have a wife and a daughter? Standing behind Kristopher, his assistant Jasper Carter stared with his mouth wide open in astonishment. As the richest man in Willster, Kristopher occupied the very top rank among the country's elite. Nobody in the city dared to turn him down. Yet someone had just called him a bastard to his face. A cold sweat broke out all along Jasper's back. Before long, the funeral home employees arrived, carrying a form authorizing cremation. They pushed the form into Kristopher's hands. "You have to sign this. We cannot take the child away without a signature." Kristopher studied the devastated woman resting in his arms and the lifeless girl lying on the bed. He then took the pen and put his name on the form. A single look at the paperwork nearly scared Jasper out of his mind. Beside Kristopher's sweeping signature, the word "Father" stood out in plain print.

Jasper couldn't wrap his head around it. His boss had spent his entire life single, without ever showing an interest in women. How could a single trip to the hospital have turned him into a father? "We don't even know who this woman is. Why would you help her, Mr. Campbell?" Jasper asked, clearly puzzled. "I find joy in helping people," Kristopher replied. Jasper rolled his eyes in exasperation. Could he really call this helping people? He was taking on the role of a father, not merely helping an old lady cross the street. By the time Rylee finally regained consciousness, she discovered that her daughter had disappeared. "Where's my daughter?" Rylee demanded as she frantically searched the room for her. The doctor explained, "Your husband made the arrangements to have your daughter cremated. He personally signed the authorization form." Beside her, Rylee found the cremation certificate and looked down at it. The space labeled "Father" bore a stranger's unmistakable signature: Kristopher Campbell. Who could Kristopher be? Rylee recalled pleading with a man to contact the funeral home before she passed out. Could that man be Kristopher? Had this stranger been the person who took responsibility for arranging her daughter's final affairs? Rylee couldn't remember how she made it home. She sank onto the bed and drifted into a deep, exhausting sleep. Through the fog of her exhaustion, she faintly heard Evan come home. The sight of her lying in bed made Evan frown with obvious displeasure. Ordinarily, the moment his car pulled into the driveway, Rylee would wait by the front door, take his coat, and help him change into comfortable loungewear. She had never stayed in bed without acknowledging his return before. Evan stared at her back. "Where is Aria?" he demanded. Rylee's eyes flew open as a sudden rush of desperate hope filled her chest. Surely Evan couldn't disregard their daughter entirely. Some part of him must still care for Aria. But before she could respond, Evan said in disgust, "Aria keeps falling ill. Don't bring her back home yet. She could pass something to Claire and put her baby at risk." Rylee's eyes immediately filled with tears. Her voice came out in a choked whisper. "There's no need to worry. She isn't coming home again." Relieved, Evan exhaled and gave a nod. "That's good." Closing her eyes tightly, Rylee felt warm tears stream down her face. Evan was not worthy of being a father. "Find a bedroom that gets plenty of sunlight for Claire," Evan instructed. "She doesn't like dark rooms. And be sure to use silk bedding. Her skin is sensitive, and she isn't accustomed to sleeping on regular sheets—" "I want a divorce," Rylee interjected in a completely flat voice. Evan stiffened. Slowly pushing herself into a sitting position, Rylee continued, "Once we're divorced, Claire can move straight into the master bedroom." Evan inwardly dismissed her words. Her attempt to manipulate him through Aria's hospitalization hadn't worked, and now she resorted to threatening divorce. As he moved closer to the bed, he said icily, "You're already my wife. What else could you possibly want? After Claire gives birth, the baby will call you 'Mom' and carry the Marshall name." Inside, Rylee could only sneer. Did he honestly believe being his wife was some kind of privilege? And why would she ever agree to bring up Claire's baby? Evan pulled up four clothing designs on his phone. "Claire has an education and real talent. She created the Ethereal Seasons collection for Marshall Group, and it took the fashion industry by storm, bringing in hundreds of millions of dollars in advance orders. You've never accomplished anything for me on the level of Claire's." Rylee stared intently at the four drawings. In an instant, her expression changed. There was no mistaking that those four designs were her own. She had called the collection Ethereal Seasons and stored the files on the company's computer without making them public. How could Claire now be claiming the designs as hers? Evan went on, "The yearly Designers' Convention takes place next week. They've invited Dream, the independent designer who's become so popular online. Claire once studied under Dream, and Marshall Group is determined to bring Dream aboard. Don't stir up trouble right now, or else..." A sharp flash of pure ridicule appeared in Rylee's eyes. She was none other than Dream herself. When had Claire ever studied under her? After logging into her account, Rylee saw an invitation from the convention. "Dear Dream, we would be honored to have you attend the Designers' Convention this year." Early in her marriage to Evan, she had hoped to work in Marshall Group's design division. Colors and design had come naturally to her since childhood, but Evan had considered her rural background and lack of a college degree an embarrassment in the fashion industry. Eventually, Evan's mother, Kathleen Marshall, had assigned her the position of his personal assistant, leaving her with little to do besides attending to his everyday needs. Without telling anyone about it, Rylee had created the online alias "Dream" and sometimes accepted independent freelance design projects. She was aware that countless people wanted to find her. There was even talk in the fashion world that whoever hired Dream would dominate the market. Still, she had dedicated herself to Evan and turned down every invitation. Now, however, she intended to appear at the convention and use her standing to reveal the deception. She refused to let Claire pass off her designs as her own. Evan sniggered. "Why do I even bother telling you this? You don't understand the fashion industry. You're a housewife. All you need to do is look after Claire and her baby." Rylee merely rolled her eyes. When Evan's phone started ringing, Claire's coquettish voice sounded from the other end. "Evan, the thunder is scaring me. I think it's frightening the baby as well. Can you come and stay with us?" At the sound of his beloved's coaxing voice, Evan's anger disappeared at once. "Sure," he answered gently. "Make sure the windows and doors are shut. I'll be there right away." Rylee felt a chill settle deep into her bones. Evan had never shown Aria any warmth. Rylee had long told herself that he simply didn't care for children. Now she understood that he didn't dislike children in general. It was her child he couldn't stand. Even before the operation, Aria was desperate to see her father. Remembering it brought another sharp pain to Rylee's heart. The loss of her daughter had brutally destroyed the last pitiful illusions she had continued to hold about Evan. Once Evan was gone, Rylee sent a message to her friend Jessica Hayes. "I'm divorcing Evan. Get me the best divorce attorney in Willster. Whatever the fee, I'll pay it."

"You can finally see Evan for what he is, Rylee!" Jessica couldn't hide how pleased she was. The light faded from Rylee's eyes. She had finally seen Evan's true colors, but her daughter had paid for it with her life. Nothing could make that price bearable. Rylee felt strong enough the following day to sort through the bills she'd covered for the Marshalls throughout her marriage. She had been put in charge of running the house, yet her mother-in-law had kept every bit of the family's money for herself. Not a dollar of it ever went toward the household's expenses. Keeping up appearances mattered to Kathleen, who regularly threw expensive parties for her wealthy friends. Evan's younger sister, Bailee Marshall, was an influencer whose obsessions were cosmetic procedures and reckless spending. Thirty million dollars from Rylee's own savings before the marriage hadn't been enough to support their lifestyle. She'd only managed to keep paying the bills by taking design commissions online without telling anyone. Getting those contributions back wouldn't be easy. Rylee understood that the law might treat what she'd spent as shared marital funds. Being married to Evan did, however, give her a claim to half of what he owned. Between company profits and dividends from his shares, he'd made around a billion dollars during their years together. Claiming her share would at least mean she wasn't walking away with nothing. She sent Jessica a message. "Make it clear to the lawyer that I won't settle for anything below five hundred million dollars from Evan. I also need you to look into Claire. Check when she came back and find out exactly how far along her pregnancy is." Evan clearly wasn't ready to agree to a divorce. Should he choose to contest it, his family's influence and connections could make winning in court a struggle. Evidence that he'd cheated on her would put her in a much stronger position. Rylee then realized that, had her daughter survived, the Marshalls would've fought with everything they had to keep her. Aria had never been good enough for them because she wasn't a boy, but they'd still considered her to carry their blood. Letting her leave the family would've been out of the question. Knowing they could hold Aria over her, Rylee would rather drop the divorce than put her daughter through a custody fight. But her daughter was gone now, and they had nothing left to threaten her with. There was no longer anything tying her to that family. Rylee found herself crying all over again. She couldn't stop wondering whether Aria had slipped away because watching her mother suffer had become too much for her. Perhaps her quiet departure had been the last way she could show her love. Once she'd cried herself dry, Rylee cleaned her face and gathered her own things along with her daughter's belongings, packing them together. She and Aria had spent more than three years in that house, but a single bag was enough to hold everything that belonged to them. She picked up the bag and made her way downstairs. When Kathleen saw Rylee leaving without Aria tagging along, she sneered, "Don't tell me that girl's back in the hospital. She's never well for more than a minute. At this rate, I can't see her living very long." "You're talking about your own granddaughter. How can you wish something like that on her?" Rylee fixed Kathleen with a cold stare. Kathleen remained sprawled on the couch while a servant massaged her shoulders. "What does this family gain from having a girl? You spend years bringing her up, and then she marries into someone else's family. Give me a grandson if you're any use." Nothing mattered more to Kathleen than getting a grandson. She insisted the Marshall fortune could only pass to a boy. Rylee had endured plenty of insults for spending nearly four years as Evan's wife and giving the family nothing but a daughter they considered worthless. However, Evan's family didn't know he'd only shared her bed once, when he'd been drunk on their wedding night. In all the time since, he hadn't touched her. Bailee admired her newly done nose in the mirror and chuckled. "You can stop wishing now, Mom. Evan says the baby's a boy. Claire's going to give you a grandson." Kathleen sat straight up, suddenly beaming. "Are you serious?" Bailee confirmed it with a nod. "She's four months along already." Kathleen brought her hands together in delight. "That's the best news I've heard. Have someone get a bedroom ready. Claire needs to move in right away so we can look after her properly." Rylee held the bag so tightly that her fingers began to hurt. Four months earlier, Evan had gone to Beloria on business, the very country Claire had been studying in. Rylee had told herself he simply had little interest in physical intimacy. Now Claire was back, carrying a baby conceived around the time of that trip. Apparently, he'd spent their entire marriage saving himself for Claire. Rylee had hoped that more than three years of devotion would eventually make him fall for her, only to discover how foolish she had been. She struggled to swallow past the tightness in her throat, then left the house and refused to turn around. Her first stop was Marshall Group, where she intended to hand in her resignation. For three years, she had looked after his every need as his personal assistant and taken his place when clients expected him to drink. She'd suffered stomach bleeding several times as a result, and going without a meal now brought on intense pain. Evan had no idea what it had done to her. His concern had always been maintaining his polished, successful image in front of other people. Rylee held her sore stomach and reminded herself quietly that she wouldn't have to keep doing this anymore. She was almost at the CEO's office when his assistant Sarah Morgan came striding toward her. Sarah looked her over with open arrogance and sneered, "All that effort to claw your way into becoming Mrs. Marshall, and where did it get you? Mr. Marshall's real wife has come back. Looks like someone's in for a rough time."