Bearing His Child, Burying My Heart

During our ten years of marriage, Elliott had slept with nearly every colleague and friend I had.

I pretended I didn't see anything, still going to my checkups with my eight-month pregnant belly.

Until one day, on my way to an appointment, his new lover ran me over with a car.

I bled uncontrollably, begging him to take me to the hospital.

Elliott looked at me with a face full of disgust.

"Fiona, when did you become so good at faking accidents?"

"Don't think that pretending like this will make me care. Even if you die right in front of me, I wouldn't spare you a second glance!"

With that, he left with his new lover.

By the time I reached the hospital, the baby inside me had already suffocated and died.

My mom, unable to bear the shock, died from a fatal heart attack.

When I woke up, my heart was already numb.

Sitting beside me was Elliott’s grandfather, his face lined with sorrow.

"Let me go," I said flatly. "Whatever I owed the Stone Family, I have paid with my life."