Chapter 4

I instantly recalled how, back when I was collapsed in pain.

How gently he had pulled me into his embrace to comfort me.

And how now, every word stabbed at my heart to humiliate me.

His gentle appearance from the past and his heartless face now could no longer overlap even slightly.

Finally, I stumbled out of that place in a daze, not even remembering how I got home.

I swept the carefully prepared wedding cake on the table into the trash.

My gaze fell on the note card I had written with such joy.

Planning to read it at tomorrow's wedding: [Lucian, I'm so happy to have met you. For the rest of our lives, please take care of me.]

Thinking back to the anticipation I felt when I first wrote those words.

Now my chest tightened, even breathing brought sharp pain.

I lay in bed, crying all night with my eyes open, my mind torn between two extremes.

On one side were five years of his meticulous care, those tender and indulgent moments vivid in my mind.

On the other was his blatant betrayal, his utterly heartless appearance.

The two sets of images alternated, tormenting me mentally and physically.

I don't know when, but I finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

When I woke again, my forehead was burning hot with fever.

And Lucian was sitting by my bedside.

He held a clean washcloth, repeatedly pressing it to my forehead.

The faint aroma of oatmeal drifted from the kitchen.

Seeing me open my eyes, he immediately looked up, his tone reproachful: "Claire, do you have to wreck your body like this just to spite me?"

"If you don't take care of yourself, how can you be Mrs. Foster?"

His eyes flickered slightly, hiding a trace of concern.

I suddenly remembered how before, when I fell critically ill and needed a kidney transplant.

He didn't hesitate and directly donated one of his kidneys.

Back then, I cried and asked him why he was so foolish.

He gently wiped away my tears, his tone tender: "It's just one kidney. How could that be more important than my wife?"

But now, looking into his eyes, my heart was filled with confusion.

I could no longer tell if he truly loved me.

He turned and brought over a bowl of warm porridge, scooping up a spoonful and gently blowing on it before bringing it to my lips.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly spoke: "Let's give today's wedding to Nina."

"You know she's pregnant. She gets upset easily. Once she safely delivers the baby, I'll definitely make it up to you."

My heart lurched sharply, my eyes instantly reddening.

So his return today wasn't because he was worried about my fever.

He just came to inform me that my wedding was being given to another woman.

Seeing my prolonged silence, his expression grew darker: "I already promised Nina I'd have you be her bridesmaid."

"People everywhere are saying she's the mistress who interfered with our relationship. She can't handle the pressure."

"If you don't come out and clarify, she won't give birth to this child."

He paused, then said the words that hurt me most: "I need you to publicly admit at the wedding that you're the mistress."

The tears I'd been holding back finally burst forth uncontrollably.

I used all my strength to push away the bowl of porridge in his hand.

The warm porridge spilled onto his expensive suit.

He already knew my stubborn nature—back then, I'd rather die than not drag my scumbag father down with me.

He immediately pulled out a photo of my mom and threw it in my face: "Claire, don't always be so willful. Think about your mother in the hospital bed."

"Right now, with just one word from me, I can cut off your mother's special medication."

"Her life or death—you decide. Don't force me to be cruel to you."

Looking at this man who had become completely unrecognizable, my heart finally died.

A cold countdown echoed in my mind.

Less than 3 hours until erasure.

I calmly closed my eyes and nodded gently: "Fine. I'll go to your wedding. I'll also admit that I'm the mistress."

My compliance made him freeze.

Clearly, he didn't expect me, who had just been resolutely resisting, to suddenly give in.

His face immediately lit up with joy: "Claire, just be obedient. After the wedding, I'll definitely make it up to you."

Watching him like this, my heart throbbed with pain, making it almost impossible to breathe.

But my face showed no emotion.

After he left in high spirits.

I finally broke down, covering my head tightly with the blanket and sobbing out loud.

I deleted all his photos from my phone, erasing every trace of him.

Finally, with trembling hands, I dialed Nina's number: "Give me twenty million. Lucian—I'm giving him to you."