One-Way Street: When Love Leaves

On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list.

Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock.

Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer.

After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive.

For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant.

Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child.

But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Connor's expression didn't waver.

"This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually."

I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably.

That night, I made an appointment for an abortion.

When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."

"You love Lindsey so much—why didn't you just marry her in the first place?"

Connor Presley's friend took a slow sip of his drink, his face full of confusion.

Pain flickered across Connor's expression.

"Because she loves Scott," he said. "I rushed into marrying Rachel only because I didn't want my presence to stand in the way of their happiness. True love isn't about possession—it's about letting go."

His friend let out a dry laugh, a trace of mockery in his tone.

"Just don't come to regret it."

Connor downed his glass in one swallow.

"Regret? Never. For Lindsey, I'd do anything."

I swallowed my tears and left before I broke down completely.

Back home, I filled the bathtub with icy water and lowered myself into it, forcing the cold to numb the pain clawing through me. The chill cut deep, but it was nothing compared to the agony burning in my heart.

I bit down hard on my lip, tears spilling unchecked. No matter how I cried, how I tried to purge the humiliation and heartbreak, I couldn't wash away the memories of what we once shared.

Three years ago, after that scandalous wedding disaster, I had become the world's favorite joke.

To outsiders, I was a shallow, gold-digging actress desperate to marry into wealth and power.

To them, this ending was nothing more than poetic justice.

When I was utterly alone—when the world turned its back—it was Connor who stood beside me, shielding me from the storm of ridicule.

When he slipped that ring onto my finger, his gaze had been filled with warmth and conviction. After I became pregnant, his care bordered on worship—he wouldn't even let me trim my own nails.

And now, I realized it had all been a performance. A grand illusion staged for Lindsey Remmington's sake.

How laughable.

I didn't know when I'd finally drifted to sleep, tears drying on my cheeks. When I woke again, I was lying in bed, feverish and weak.

Connor hovered over me, his face tight with worry.

"Rachel, you're a mother now. How could you be so careless? You're sick. What if something happens to the baby?"

Once, I would've mistaken that for genuine concern. Now, I knew—he wasn't worried about me. He was worried about their child.

A bitter smile curved my lips. I said nothing.

For years, I'd used my fame to promote his company, boosting its image again and again. I'd introduced him to investors, helping him remain the title of "Elluel City's richest".

I looked down at my scarred, weary body and felt an ache so deep it hollowed me out. I had given everything to this marriage—my love, my body, my career—only to realize I'd been nothing but a vessel for someone else's dream.

A marriage so polished on the surface, yet rotten with deceit and betrayal beneath—why should I keep it?

And this baby, tainted by its parents' betrayal and lies, had no place in my world.

"I must've fallen asleep in the tub," I said. "Filming's been exhausting lately."

That night, I told him I needed quiet for the baby and moved into another room.

Once the door was closed, I called my best friend—a lawyer—and asked her to draft a divorce agreement and finalize the division of assets.

The Presley family had been barely holding onto their fortune for years alone. Their title of "Elluel City's richest" was just a crumbling facade.

Once I took back what was mine, I wanted to see just how long he could keep up his charade.