Chapter 1

After my foster younger sister Vivian passed her university entrance exams, our whole family gathered for a celebration dinner.

My mother said gratefully to my husband Ethan: "Thank you for helping Vivian get into such a good university."

Ethan smiled: "It was my pleasure."

After dinner ended, Ethan suddenly spoke in the car: "Do you know why I agreed to help Vivian? On her eighteenth birthday, she came to me herself and said that as long as I helped her, she'd be willing to repay me with her body."

My mind went blank.

He exhaled a puff of smoke, as if savoring a memory: "Vivian is very obedient in bed. She sounds different from you."

My heart seized. I raised my hand sharply and slapped him across the face.

"Ethan, you're scum!"

My voice trembled, tears welling in my eyes.

"She's my sister! How could you do this?"

The smile on his face faded slightly, but he didn't get angry. "Back then, I could still touch you after those thugs had their hands on you. Isn't she cleaner than you?"

"Besides, after your dad died, who's been paying for everything to keep this family afloat? Don't I deserve a little compensation?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

In that moment, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze.

Eight years ago, I was assaulted. My father, trying to get justice for me, killed the perpetrators' entire family in a moment of rage.

Back then, Ethan was a newly practicing lawyer. Despite all the pressure, he found evidence, questioned inconsistencies, and managed to clear my father of murder charges, allowing him a dignified burial.

He was the one person who knew the full truth of what happened, who understood how deeply I'd been hurt...

Ethan's expression remained unchanged as he reached into the back seat, grabbed a plastic bag, and tossed it onto my lap.

Inside was a pair of light-colored cotton underwear stained with dark red blood — so glaring I could barely look at it.

Ethan's voice held no warmth: "That day she'd just turned eighteen. It was her first time too. When she went home, she was in so much pain she could barely stand straight. You thought she was having period cramps and even made her hot milk. Remember to wash these clean before returning them to her."

Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.

Through gritted teeth, I said word by word: "Ethan, I want a divorce."

He laughed as if he'd heard a joke, then reached out to grip my chin.

"Divorce? So the baby in your belly can become a fatherless bastard like you?"

My whole body shook. I instinctively touched my stomach.

Overwhelmed by emotion, I'd forgotten — I was pregnant. Six weeks...

Ethan released me, his tone returning to its usual casual indifference.

"If there's nothing else, go upstairs. Wash up and get some sleep. You have a prenatal checkup tomorrow."

I pushed open the car door and practically fled into the building.

In the elevator, I stared at those bloodstained underwear for a long time, nausea churning in my stomach.

When I opened the door, Vivian was sitting on the living room sofa.

She wore the white dress I'd bought her last year, clutching her phone, her eyes red and swollen.

Apparently, Ethan had told her.

When she saw the plastic bag in my hand, tears streamed down her face.

The next second, she dropped to her knees before me.

"I'm sorry, Mia. I was confused..."

She collapsed on the floor, shoulders shaking, crying her heart out.

I stood frozen, my heart feeling like it was being sliced with knives.

"Vivian, haven't I been good to you?"

My voice cracked with tears. "When you were being bullied at the orphanage, I brought you home, bought you new clothes, paid for your education. Why would you steal my husband? Why would you destroy my family?"