Just a little longer, I told myself. As long as I get pregnant, everything will be fine.
I clung to that hope like a lifeline. It was all that kept me standing.
Somehow, word of Connor's cruelty reached his grandfather. Jacob didn't hesitate—he evicted Jade immediately and forced Connor to stand under the scorching sun for three hours, cast and all.
Naturally, Connor blamed me.
That night, he ordered me into the master bedroom. Not for reconciliation. He drugged me, arranged my limp body into degrading poses, and photographed every moment.
"Try anything behind my back again," he said, holding up the phone, "and these go viral."
I pleaded until my throat was raw. Only then did he agree to delete them.
The aftermath broke me. By the second night, I was burning with a fever of 104. The nanny tried to take me to the ER, but Connor refused. To protect his reputation, he locked me in the bridal suite and told the staff to let me "fend for myself."
By the third night, I'd survived the fever, but dehydration set in. I was retching violently, purging fluids I didn't have.
Terrified, the nanny called Connor.
He answered—but instead of words, the line filled with wet, breathless sounds. Him and Jade. He let me listen before the nanny could even speak.
"The fever's gone, isn't it?" he scoffed when she finally managed to stammer something.
"But sir—"
"She's faking it. Again."
Darkness crept into my vision, but the pain in my chest cut sharper than the illness. Just as I summoned strength for one last plea, Jade's voice came through, whining and sweet.
"Connor, baby... don't bother with her. Come back to bed."
He cursed and hung up.
The last thing I heard was the nanny screaming.
"Mr. Winfield! Help! She's collapsed!"
I woke in a hospital bed. Julian was there, his lips pressed to my temple, his eyes dark with suppressed rage.
"Are you still determined to destroy yourself for him?"
"Soon," I whispered. "Less than two months."
His jaw tightened. "You almost died, Sam."
"When it's over... I'll come back. I promise."
He looked defeated, but nodded. He'd never been able to deny me anything. "If anything happens to you or Wanwan, I'll handle it. Just come home."
"Thank you, Julian."
He was my adoptive brother, but he loved me the way my parents had—wholly, unconditionally. He was my safety net.
When I returned to the villa, Connor was waiting.
A fresh scratch marred his face—likely from his grandfather—but the hostility was gone, replaced by chilling calm.
"Where were you?"
"The hospital. Severe dehydration."
"The nanny said Julian took you." He crossed the room and seized my wrist, grip bruising.
"He's my brother. He didn't want to watch me die."
"He should know his place. Have you seen the headlines?"
So that was it. Not concern—fear for the Delgado reputation. He could burn down the house, but I wasn't allowed to light a candle.
"I won't do it again," I murmured, head lowered.
He sneered, tilting my chin up. "Tell me, Sam. Once we divorce, is Julian going to pick up my scraps? Marry you?"
"Connor, stop. I love you. I won't divorce you unless you force me to."
He chuckled darkly. "You really are pathetic for me, aren't you?"
