"Ah… ah… it hurts, it hurts so bad."

The dim hospital corridor echoed with her crying out in pain from the brightly lit surgery room.

Emily Bennett clenched her teeth so tightly her lips bled, her beautiful face drained of all color, eyes burning with raw hatred. The image she’d seen before being wheeled in kept replaying in her head, squeezing her heart till she could barely breathe. Her empty stomach churned with nausea.

But the pain attacking her lower body didn’t leave any room for thinking. She dug her fingers into the bed sheets, a trickle of red trailing down the corner of her mouth. There was only one thing on her mind: get the baby out safely.

"Ahh… ah, ahhh!"

Emily screamed with everything she had, trying to pull herself together through the agony.

Time became a blur. At one point she thought she might actually die in there. But when the sharp cry of a baby finally rang out, her lips curled up faintly. That tiny bit of joy was the last flicker of happiness before everything went black.

—

VIP hospital room.

Soft golden sunlight slipped through the white curtains, filling the space with a gentle, sterile brightness.

Lying in the bed, Emily’s dark hair was a mess, her face pale like a sheet. Even with her eyes shut tight, her beauty hadn’t dulled a bit.

Slowly opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was Margaret Brown’s furious, twisted face looming over her. The older woman stood right by the bed, glaring like Emily had committed some unforgivable crime.

Emily struggled to push herself up, the pain below nearly unbearable—but she didn’t let it show. She managed a respectful, “Mom.”

Margaret’s sneer deepened, arms crossed over her chest, her voice dripping with contempt.

“How dare you call me that? I don’t have the nerve to accept it. You think you’re still worthy after cheating on my son? Tell me, whose kid did you just give birth to?”

Kid...? Was she talking about the baby?

Emily looked confused. “Mom, what are you saying?”

She’d never done anything to hurt David Johnson. If anything, it was he who—

“Oh, quit pretending you don’t get it!” Margaret cut her off, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. “I’m saying the baby’s not my son’s. God knows which man gave you that bastard.”

Red-painted nails waved accusingly as she barked out those words.

Emily took a breath, trying to stay calm. “Do you have proof?”

She’d always known Margaret looked down on her for being an actress. A dropout who didn’t deserve her Ivy-League-educated son, in her eyes. But this? Not accepting her own grandchild?

Margaret yanked a paper out from her sleek LV bag and flung it into Emily’s face.

“Here. Hospital paternity test. Read it yourself. Still denying you slept around?”

What an actress—Margaret almost got fooled herself into thinking her plan had failed.

Staring at the printed report, the color drained from Emily’s face. Her fingers clutched the paper tighter and tighter as tears slid down silently, soaking into the words.

She shook her head furiously. “No. No way. This isn’t true.” Her voice trembled as she stared at the results. How could the baby not be David’s?

Grabbing Margaret’s hand, she looked up, eyes blurred with tears. “Please, Mom, you have to believe me. This isn’t true. I never betrayed David.”Margaret Brown shoved Emily Bennett’s hand away with a look of utter disgust in her eyes. “So what, Emily? You’re saying I made this up? That I wouldn’t recognize my own grandson?”

She sneered, arms crossed, her voice sharper than ever. “Seriously? Everything’s laid out in black and white, and you still won’t admit it. Clinging onto my son like this… what do you even get out of it?”

Emily kept shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks and soaking the crisp white bedsheet beneath her. She genuinely had no idea how the child wasn’t David Johnson’s. She was sure—absolutely certain—she’d never cheated on him.

“This whole thing’s clear-cut,” Margaret snapped. “If you’ve got any sense of dignity left, you’ll tell David you want a divorce yourself. Or else, don’t blame me when the so-called affair photos end up all over the media and in court. Wanna see how long your ‘good girl’ image survives then?”

With a harsh toss of her head, Margaret strutted off like she’d just won a battle.

...

A week later, Emily returned to the villa she and David shared, holding her son close. All week long, she’d been racking her brain, trying to figure out how the DNA didn’t match. As far as she remembered, she’d only ever been with David.

Once home, she carefully settled her son into the nursery she’d prepped in advance, planning to change into something clean before looking after him properly.

As she neared the master bedroom, muffled voices drifted out from behind the door.

Emily paused, instincts on high alert, and slowed her steps. The voices became clearer—shockingly so.

“Come on, Davey… stop teasing, I’m blushing…”

A chill ran through Emily’s body. Her mind went blank as if lightning had struck overhead. Frozen in front of the door, she peeked through the crack—and what she saw inside just about made her stomach turn. The air reeked, the scene burned in her eyes.

She’d convinced herself that photo she'd glimpsed pre-surgery had been fake—someone trying to stir up drama. But this… this was real.

That’s when Jessica Collins, her own sister, spoke again in a syrupy tone.

“When are you gonna ditch my sister and make it official with me?”

David’s laugh was low and confident. “Relax, babe. That clueless woman will ask for a divorce any day now.”

Tears welled up at the corner of Emily’s eyes. Her nose stung, her fists clenched so tight, her nails dug deep into her palm. Every part of her was trembling, yet she forced herself to stay quiet and keep listening.

“But how are you so sure she’ll go for it?” Jessica asked in that overly sweet voice again.

David chuckled darkly. “You seriously forgot how we got married ten months ago?”

“You mean that time you paid some guy to sleep with her and then swooped in the next morning to act like she’d cheated with you all along?”

David chuckled again. “Smart as always, sweetheart.”

Emily squinted as she tried to dig up her memory of that night ten months back. It was hazy, but she vaguely remembered going out with Jessica the night before the wedding. Jessica had handed her a drink… that was her last clear thought.

She’d woken up the next morning with David in her bed—and right then, a bunch of photographers had burst in, flashing cameras nonstop. The next day, they tied the knot. He’d been chasing her for months, so she gave in. Not long after, she found out she was pregnant and didn’t question it any further.

It had all seemed… too convenient.

Just then, Jessica’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“But if you two split, you’ll walk away with nothing, won’t you?”

Emily snapped back to the present, her heart pounding hard in her chest. Gritting her teeth, she leaned in closer, needing to hear everything—no matter how much it hurt.