I wanted to grieve properly. I wanted to lock myself away in the bed I once shared with Dominic, breathe in whatever trace of him still lingered on the sheets, and let myself fall apart over the child he had ordered erased.
But when the iron gates of the manor came into view, something else stopped me cold.
The entire estate was lit up like a celebration. Warm golden lights spilled from every window, music drifting through the air—soft orchestral pieces, the kind Dominic always preferred at formal gatherings. Luxury cars lined the driveway as if the world hadn’t just collapsed under my feet.
A party.
My chest tightened painfully. I had just lost our baby only hours ago, and yet he was celebrating?
I pushed past the confused security guard at the gate—he recognized me, even through my soaked hair and hollow expression—and made my way toward the front door on unsteady legs. I didn’t bother knocking. I shoved it open.
The sound of laughter died instantly. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Every head turned toward me.
And there, beneath the grand crystal chandelier in the center of the foyer, stood Dominic.
He had a champagne glass in one hand, while his other arm rested comfortably around a woman dressed in shimmering gold.
Me.
No… not me.
Liliana.
She looked untouched by suffering. Glowing skin, perfectly styled hair, a softness in her expression that made her look like someone who had never been broken apart and rebuilt by force. She looked like the version of me that had never been sold, never been used, never been reduced to something disposable.
Behind them hung a banner stretched across the wall: WELCOME HOME, MY LOVE.
The moment they saw me, the room fell into complete silence.
I must have looked like something dragged out of a storm—rainwater still dripping from my clothes, the cheap gray hospital outfit clinging awkwardly to my body, my face pale and wrecked. I didn’t feel human anymore. I felt like an interruption.
Liliana gasped, breaking the silence. She pulled away from Dominic and hurried toward me, her hands fluttering near her lips in exaggerated shock.
“Sofia!” she exclaimed, her voice overflowing with concern. “Oh my God, I thought you were still resting. The doctor said you needed complete bed rest!”
She reached out like she intended to touch me, but I instinctively pulled back.
“Resting?” My voice cracked. “My baby is gone, Liliana… and you’re holding a party?”
“Please, calm down,” she whispered quickly, tears forming almost too perfectly in her eyes. “I’m so relieved you’re awake. But why are you here? You should be in bed. You shouldn’t be walking around like this.”
“What am I doing here?” I laughed bitterly, the sound breaking apart. “I live here. This is my home. Or did you forget that when you ran away five years ago and left me to deal with everything? You left me to clean up our parents’ mess, to be sold off like debt payment—you left me behind.”
Dominic stepped forward immediately, placing himself between us as though I were the threat.
“That’s enough,” he said sharply, his tone instantly freezing the air. “Liliana has already suffered more than enough. She lost her memory, Sofia. She didn’t know anything. Don’t you dare twist this and blame her.”
My breath caught.
Twist this?
“You’re my husband,” I said quietly, staring at him like I didn’t recognize him. “I needed you today. I needed you there. And instead… you’re here with her.”
“You’re being emotional,” he replied flatly. “Go rest. You shouldn’t be out here. You’re disrupting everything. Leave.”
Then he turned away from me.
Just like that.
There was a time when even the smallest change in my expression would send him into motion—fixing, soothing, destroying anything that made me unhappy. Now I stood there breaking apart on his polished floor, and he didn’t even look back.
“Fine,” I whispered, voice trembling with rage and humiliation. “Enjoy your celebration.”
I turned and ran up the stairs. This time, he didn’t stop me.
I burst into the master bedroom—our bedroom.
Except it no longer felt like ours.
Everything had changed. My perfumes were gone. My clothes were gone. The familiar warmth had been replaced by cold elegance. The closet was now filled with gold-toned fabrics and silk pieces I had never worn. Her taste. Her identity layered over mine like I had never existed there at all.
I couldn’t stay. I needed to leave. But I had nothing—no money, no access, no cards. Dominic had made sure of that.
Then I remembered the study.
My mother’s jewelry.
The emerald set she had specifically left me in her will. The only inheritance she had protected for me. The last piece of my life before I signed that marriage contract and handed everything else away.
It was kept inside the wall safe.
I rushed there, hands shaking uncontrollably as I entered the code—our wedding date.
A soft beep. Then a click.
The safe opened.
Inside was a velvet pouch containing the emerald necklace and matching diamond rings. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even think about value. I only thought about survival. About getting out.
Then—
WEEE-OOO! WEEE-OOO!
A blaring alarm shattered the silence.
I froze.
So he had changed the system.
The study door slammed open. Dominic stood there, breathing hard, his expression tight with something worse than anger—offense. Like I had personally insulted him. Two guards followed behind him.
“I gave you a home. I gave you a life,” he said, voice low and controlled as he walked toward me. “And you repay me by stealing from me?”
“I’m not stealing!” I shouted, clutching the pouch to my chest. “These are mine! My mother left them to me! They don’t belong to you!”
He stopped right in front of me, towering over me without raising his voice. Instead, he simply held out his hand.
“You still don’t understand your place, Sofia,” he said coldly. “When you married me, everything became shared. There is no ‘yours.’ You are my wife. That means everything here belongs to me.”
“I need to leave,” I said desperately. “I have nothing left here!”
“You have a home. You have security. You have me,” he replied as if it were logic, not control. “You only feel empty because you’ve chosen rebellion. A proper wife doesn’t lack anything.”
Before I could react, he yanked the pouch from my hands.
“No!” I cried, reaching for it.
His grip closed around my wrist, tight enough to bruise. “Stop this. You’re humiliating yourself.”
At the doorway, Liliana appeared as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment. Elegant. Calm. Effortlessly composed.
Her eyes landed on the pouch in Dominic’s hand and lit up immediately.
“Oh, Dominic,” she said softly, stepping closer and resting her hand lightly on his shoulder. “Is that Mother’s emerald set? I remember she always said it should go to the daughter who brought honor to the family.”
Dominic looked at me—messy, shaking, desperate—then at Liliana—perfect, composed, radiant.
And made his choice.
“You’re right,” he said.
Then he turned back to me.
“These belong to the lady of Ashford Manor. Someone who carries herself with dignity. Not someone trying to sell off family heirlooms like a common thief.”
He placed the pouch into Liliana’s hands.
“Keep them safe,” he added. “At least one of you understands value.”
“Thank you, Dominic,” Liliana said brightly, holding my inheritance as though it belonged to her all along. Then she looked at me with a soft, pitying smile. “Sofia, don’t be upset. I’ll take good care of them.”
“You can’t do this!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “I am your wife, Dominic! Not her!”
“Then act like it,” he snapped back immediately. “Wives don’t steal. Wives obey.”
He turned to the guards.
“She’s unstable. Take her somewhere quiet,” he ordered, gesturing toward the exit. “Put her in the basement holding room until the party is over. I won’t have her ruining Liliana’s homecoming.”
“The basement?” My voice cracked as they grabbed my arms. “Dominic, please! It’s freezing down there—I just had surgery!”
“Then you should’ve stayed in bed instead of breaking into my safe,” he said without even looking at me. His attention had already shifted back to Liliana, watching the necklace like it mattered more than I did. “Take her away.”
