She had always believed he loved her.
Otherwise, why would he have given her such a grand wedding? For a while, she truly thought an ugly duckling could become a swan, that Cinderella might really meet her prince, that fairy tales could come true. Once, she naively believed happiness was within reach—that with just a slight stretch of her hand, she could hold onto it for a lifetime…
She, Ella Whitney, had married Rex Athan, the sole heir to the largest jewelry empire in the Americas, in a whirlwind romance three months ago.
True to his name, he was tall, handsome, and elegant—once named "America's Most Eligible Diamond Elite" and "Women's Dream One‑Night Lover" by the most authoritative weekly magazine.
As everyone knew, Athan Jewelry was the leader in the industry, beloved worldwide. And Rex, as the only heir to the Athan family, was undoubtedly the crown prince of the jewelry world—a top figure in the business realm, always in the spotlight.
Yet, this darling of fate had ended his single life just as quickly as he'd swept into it, leaving countless women heartbroken.
No one knew who his wife was. The media and paparazzi couldn't find a trace. People envied, speculated, and wondered—who was the lucky woman to become the young madam of the Athan family?
But none of it was as mysterious as the outside world imagined.
All of it was just a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
If he despised her so much—enough to harm their unborn child—why did he pursue her so intensely in the first place? Why marry her? And why keep her bound to him now, locked in this torturous, tangled mansion?
For the two months since losing the baby, Ella had been turning these questions over in her mind, almost driving herself mad.
The bedroom door opened quietly.
The gentle housekeeper entered, holding a delicate porcelain bowl from the East. "Madam, it's time for your medicine."
Medicine? Would it really heal her body? Could it bring her child back?
The doctor had told her she might never conceive again.
A tall figure leaned against the doorframe—handsome, with cool, distant eyes. He approached slowly, moving with the grace of a prince.
He walked to the housekeeper, took the bowl from her hands, knelt down, and held it to Ella's lips. His voice was icy. "Drink it."
Ella sat barefoot on the floor, hugging her knees, while the man half‑knelt before her, bowl in hand. Had his voice not been cold as a cellar, anyone would have thought him a caring husband.
She pressed her lips together and turned her head away.
Splash—
The warm medicine was dumped over her face.
Ella closed her eyes as the bitter liquid trickled down her hair, cheeks, and chin, seeping into her mouth and heart.
"Suit yourself. No one cares whether you live or die." His calm, frigid tone cut through her like a knife. She couldn't take it anymore.
One side of her face was flushed from the heat.
He didn't even glance at her before turning to leave.
"Let me go." Her voice was cold and steady.
The man atop her froze, his eyes dropping to the sharp, cold needle pressed against his neck. The heat in his gaze instantly turned to ice.
She was guarding against him—like this.
Hmph. Fine.
A cruel smile touched Rex's lips.
He stared down at her, a hint of grimness in his expression. He was like a mad gambler, betting she wouldn't dare push the needle in.
Watching her fingers tremble more and more violently, his smile deepened.
He lifted a hand, suddenly gripping her shaking one, forcing it—and the needle—against his own neck. He felt her fingers go slack under his tight hold, unable to pull back.
A flicker of fear passed through Ella's eyes. Was he insane?
The fine tip of the needle pierced his skin slightly. A drop of blood welled up at his neck and fell onto her lips, spreading the metallic taste.
She grew more afraid, more confused, less able to understand what he wanted.
She was so tired…
This exhaustion had taken root after losing the child.
She didn't understand why he seemed like a different person after it happened.
Maybe he never loved her at all. They'd married because of the baby—maybe it was only ever about the child.
Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, silent grief shimmering in her gaze. Like a wounded animal, she gave up struggling, quietly crying, wordlessly sobbing.
Rex's brow furrowed tightly, a chill flashing in his eyes. What was she crying for? Did she even know what pain was? She didn't deserve to cry. Rage surged in him—he hated that even now, looking at her feigned distress, he still felt a pang of heartache.
Rex suddenly released her hand, hurled the cold needle to the floor, and stood up. Without a word, he walked straight to the door.
Bang—
The heavy door slammed shut.
Silence filled the room.
Finally, Ella let herself cry—unrestrained, with all her strength. Tears streamed freely as she buried her face in the pillow, fingers clenching the sheets until her knuckles turned white.
No more. She refused to cling to empty, fading hope anymore—to wait day after day, like guarding a dried‑up well, hoping for a single drop of water. That kind of despair.
Now, she finally understood. She had lost him.
She would leave. She wouldn't wait any longer.