Driven by her husband McNeil Langford's obsession with continuing his "three-generation single lineage," Victoria Turner risked ectopic pregnancy to bear him a daughter. Yet on their sixth wedding anniversary, she discovers the man she nearly died loving now vows to cherish another woman forever—and the daughter she raised yearns to call that woman "Mother." Shattering the illusion of marital bliss, Victoria vanishes... only to resurge as an indomitable force. Wielding control over half the Langford family fortune, she leads her racing team to consecutive victories at the pinnacle of international F1 championships. When McNeil encounters her anew, he barely recognizes the woman radiating power and brilliance—the wife he'd reduced to shadows. With icy flair, Victoria transfers her 50% stake in The Langford Group back to him: "Keep your petty trinkets. Consider this charity." Yet McNeil clutches her waist, voice raw: "Darling, enough theatrics. Come home." Their daughter wraps around her leg, tears gleaming: "No one flies faster or shines brighter than you, Mama. You're my superhero."

Chapter 1Today marked Victoria Turner and McNeil Langford’s sixth wedding anniversary. But instead of celebrating with his wife, McNeil had taken their daughter to a birthday party—for his mistress.Sitting behind the wheel of her sedan, Victoria watched in silence as her husband, their little girl, and the woman he’d hidden for six years celebrated together.The young woman wore a bright red dress, bold and eye-catching. Their daughter was dressed in a matching outfit, the picture of innocence. McNeil stayed by their side, laughing and playing, looking every bit the proud father and devoted partner. To anyone else, they could have been mistaken for a perfect little family.“Violet, happy birthday. This is my gift to you,” McNeil said, opening an elegantly wrapped jewelry box.Victoria’s eyes locked onto the box as he slowly revealed its contents, and all the color drained from her face.It was her mother’s emerald necklace—the one McNeil had borrowed, claiming he needed it for “something important.”She remembered how, years ago, Violet Marchand had seen it around her neck and remarked offhandedly, “McNeil, I love that necklace. I wish I had one just like it.”Now, her husband was presenting the last thing her mother left her to another woman.“Gwyn, come here and give Violet a kiss,” McNeil coaxed, gently guiding their daughter toward Violet.Victoria pressed a hand to her chest. Gwyn—her daughter, the child she’d carried for nine months—had never warmed to anyone but her. She couldn’t imagine her little girl embracing another woman.But then—Gwyn leaned in and kissed Violet right on the forehead, then wrapped her in a big, affectionate hug.“Violet, could you be my mommy too?” she asked, her voice sweet and trusting.Victoria’s mind reeled. When had Gwyn become so close to Violet?Gwyneth Langford was the daughter McNeil had begged her to have. After a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that nearly cost Victoria her life, she’d been terrified at the prospect of another child. The Langford family had always passed down the family name through only sons, and McNeil was their sole heir. When she confessed her fears, McNeil had promised her it didn’t matter if they had a boy or a girl; their child would be cherished.She’d heard rumors that Violet had nearly become the new Mrs. Langford—but she hadn’t been able to have children.Now, Victoria wondered if McNeil was encouraging Gwyn to bond with Violet… Was he hoping to hand their daughter over to her?She closed her eyes, unwilling to follow that line of thought any further.Six years of marriage, months of pregnancy and pain, all for this. For love, she’d nearly died. And for what?Had she just been a tool for McNeil all along?She stared through the windshield, then picked up her phone and dialed McNeil’s number.The phone rang loudly enough for her to hear it from inside the car. She watched as McNeil looked at the caller ID—but he didn’t answer. Not until Gwyneth tugged at his sleeve.“Daddy, is that Mommy? If you don’t answer, she’ll threaten to hurt herself again.”Only then did McNeil finally swipe to accept the call.“Victoria?” His voice was cold, detached—a world away from the gentle tones he reserved for Violet.Victoria lowered her gaze. “Where have you taken Gwyn?”McNeil glanced at Violet and Gwyneth, pressing a finger to his lips, signaling Gwyneth to stay quiet. The three of them shared the kind of secretive understanding that only close-knit families do.Silence stretched between them.Victoria’s grip tightened on her phone, knuckles turning white.“Today’s our anniversary. When are you coming home?”McNeil hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment.After a long pause, he finally spoke. “I remember. I bought you a present. I wanted to surprise you later.”Just then, fireworks burst above the amusement park—exploding with a thunder that filled the air. Both Victoria and McNeil heard it clearly over the phone.McNeil instinctively looked up.There, straight ahead at twelve o’clock, sat a red Ferrari. Through the windshield, he locked eyes with his wife.Violet scooped Gwyneth into her arms, pressing herself close to McNeil.Whatever resolve Victoria had to get out of the car vanished as she watched the three of them, so natural together.She felt a bitter pang of regret.She realized, maybe she was the one intruding on their happiness.McNeil’s eyes widened in alarm, as if he wanted to go to her. But Violet and Gwyneth clung to his hands, refusing to let him go.“Daddy, did Mommy follow us?”Violet’s voice was soft and almost a whisper. “Let me go talk to Victoria. I’m sure she just misunderstood.”On the phone, Victoria’s reply was chilly, almost inhuman.“That won’t be necessary. There’s no misunderstanding.”She slowly set down her phone and fixed her gaze on Yasmine in the driver’s seat. “Drive.”When they returned to the house, Yasmine walked beside Victoria, quietly giving her a report.“Ms. Marchand dated your husband for years. The two of them were so close, everyone thought they’d get married. But Ms. Marchand can’t have children, so Mr. Langford’s grandfather refused to approve the marriage. That’s why—”Yasmine trailed off, but Victoria smiled faintly.“That’s why he married me.”One daughter wasn’t enough for the Langford family. Just last month, McNeil’s father made it clear he expected a second child.Another child?Ha.Was this all just careful preparation to make sure Violet could take her place in the family? This way, the next Mrs. Langford wouldn’t even have to endure pregnancy—she’d simply inherit a husband, a son, and a daughter, all gift-wrapped and ready.What a plan. What a scheme.Yasmine leaned closer. “The good news is, Violet was diagnosed with stomach cancer three months ago. The doctors say she has about a year left.”Victoria’s breath caught.Stomach cancer. That’s what McNeil’s grandfather had, too.Truly, what a family—they even got sick the same way.Night deepened. The grandfather clock struck ten, its chimes echoing through the quiet house.A fire crackled in the living room fireplace, but Victoria sat wide awake on the couch, staring into the flames.The front door opened, bringing a rush of icy air from outside.Only Gwyneth came in. McNeil was nowhere to be seen.“Mom, why did you show up at the amusement park today?” Gwyneth’s cheeks were flushed red with anger.“Dad and Violet promised to take me to see the midnight fireworks. It’s Christmas, and because of you, Dad sent me home early.”Victoria’s heart clenched. That’s right. It was Christmas—her birthday.She stood, walked over, and knelt in front of Gwyneth, reaching out to brush the snowflakes from her daughter’s coat. Gwyneth turned away with a scowl, refusing to look at her.“Ms. Marchand is sick. That’s why we’re spending time with her. She’s so nice to me—she buys me everything I like and eats wherever I want. Of course I want to be there for her, too.But you’re so mean, Mom. You won’t even leave a sick woman alone. You followed us, and now Ms. Marchand is upset. Dad’s mad, too, and he wouldn’t let me stay. Is that what you wanted?”Gwyneth pouted, her big eyes brimming with resentment.Haley, the housekeeper, couldn’t listen any longer. “Miss, you shouldn’t say that. Your mother knitted your favorite sweater for you by hand, and she made you a giant Christmas stocking filled with all your favorite toys.”Haley felt frustrated. Mrs. Langford had raised Gwyneth from birth, and now the child was siding with a woman she’d only just met—turning her back on her own mother.Gwyneth didn’t even look at her. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t want those stupid toys.”Victoria felt the pain seep into her bones, dull and numbing. It wasn’t her daughter’s accusations that hurt the most, but the cold rejection in Gwyneth’s eyes—the same look McNeil gave her whenever he lost patience.Haley hurried over and tried to cover Gwyneth’s mouth. “Miss, don’t say that. You’re making your mother so sad.”Victoria straightened slowly, feeling numb despite the warmth of the room.“Gwyn, I’m going to divorce your father.”Even now, part of her hoped—despite everything—that she might still matter to her daughter.“That’s for the best. I wish Ms. Marchand could be my mom instead.”I wish Ms. Marchand could be my mother. The last piece of Victoria’s marriage snapped.Her mind was made up.This time, she would never go back to McNeil.Victoria spent the entire night sitting alone. The last embers in the fireplace flickered out, but there was still no sign of McNeil.She picked up the phone and called Yasmine.“Take me to the hospital.”It was midwinter, and last night’s snowfall had left the trees lining the street dusted in silver. The moment she stepped outside, the cold seemed to seep straight into her bones.Victoria sat by her grandfather-in-law’s bedside, carefully peeling an apple for him with a paring knife.“McNeil told me you agreed to have another child. That’s good.”The old man smiled at his granddaughter-in-law, deep wrinkles crinkling with genuine happiness.She paused mid-peel. “Dr. Kelvin, the stomach cancer specialist, arrived this morning. I want to schedule your surgery as soon as possible. He can only stay in the country for two days.”The old man nodded. “I trust you, Victoria. If it weren’t for your connections, I doubt we could have brought him here.”Victoria’s dark eyes were sharp and unwavering. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. Dr. Kelvin will cure you. I promise.”The next dayMcNeil finally returned, exhaustion written all over him.The moment he saw Victoria, his expression turned cold. But for Violet’s sake, he forced himself to keep his temper in check.“Was it you who had Dr. Kelvin transferred from Violet’s case?”Victoria’s tone was calm. “I brought Dr. Kelvin here to save your grandfather’s life, not to play the savior for everyone else. If you want him to treat your beloved, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”McNeil stared at her, his eyes dark and stormy, anger simmering just beneath the surface—ready to erupt at any moment.“Why would you do this? She’s dying. She needs the best care.”Victoria met his gaze, her beautiful eyes eerily calm.Her voice didn’t waver. “McNeil, let’s be fair. She’s your lover, not mine. I owe nothing to a woman who stole my husband and then has the nerve to ask me for favors. How can you even say that with a straight face?”She felt she was already being far more tolerant than Violet deserved.“Victoria, Violet has less than a year left. She gave you me—her whole life.”“So you never loved me, did you?” Victoria’s voice was steady, but there was a quiet finality to it. “You always thought I was the intruder, that I stole another woman’s man. Isn’t that right?”At last, he said it outright—he belonged to Violet, not to Victoria.What, then, had those six years meant—the nights spent side by side, his hands on her body, seeking her out again and again? Was he just pretending?“Don’t be so harsh, Victoria. You knew about her from the beginning.”McNeil’s shamelessness made Victoria’s face turn ashen.This was her own fault. She’d known he loved another, yet insisted on marrying him anyway.She deserved this.Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. There was no longing or love left in their depths.“Read it carefully before you sign. If you do, I’ll have Dr. Kelvin treat your precious Violet.”McNeil picked up the divorce agreement. With every line he read, his frown deepened.“You want thirty percent of The Langford Group’s shares, and a twenty million annual alimony for one year?”His face darkened as he reached the eighth line.“You don’t want custody of Gwyn?”How could she be so ruthless?McNeil tossed the thin stack of papers to the floor and ground his heel into them.Her lips stung as his strong fingers pressed down, roughly rubbing against her mouth.“Mrs. Langford, I leave for a few days and you’re already talking divorce?”Ignoring the fact that the staff could walk by at any moment, McNeil pinned Victoria beneath him right there on the living room couch.Victoria didn’t fight back as he expected; she just lay there motionless, as if she were made of wood.Every time they fought, this was his answer.But—Desire only comes when there’s love. And she no longer had any left for him.Chapter 2Today marked Victoria Turner and McNeil Langford’s sixth wedding anniversary. But instead of celebrating with his wife, McNeil had taken their daughter to a birthday party—for his mistress.Sitting behind the wheel of her sedan, Victoria watched in silence as her husband, their little girl, and the woman he’d hidden for six years celebrated together.The young woman wore a bright red dress, bold and eye-catching. Their daughter was dressed in a matching outfit, the picture of innocence. McNeil stayed by their side, laughing and playing, looking every bit the proud father and devoted partner. To anyone else, they could have been mistaken for a perfect little family.“Violet, happy birthday. This is my gift to you,” McNeil said, opening an elegantly wrapped jewelry box.Victoria’s eyes locked onto the box as he slowly revealed its contents, and all the color drained from her face.It was her mother’s emerald necklace—the one McNeil had borrowed, claiming he needed it for “something important.”She remembered how, years ago, Violet Marchand had seen it around her neck and remarked offhandedly, “McNeil, I love that necklace. I wish I had one just like it.”Now, her husband was presenting the last thing her mother left her to another woman.“Gwyn, come here and give Violet a kiss,” McNeil coaxed, gently guiding their daughter toward Violet.Victoria pressed a hand to her chest. Gwyn—her daughter, the child she’d carried for nine months—had never warmed to anyone but her. She couldn’t imagine her little girl embracing another woman.But then—Gwyn leaned in and kissed Violet right on the forehead, then wrapped her in a big, affectionate hug.“Violet, could you be my mommy too?” she asked, her voice sweet and trusting.Victoria’s mind reeled. When had Gwyn become so close to Violet?Gwyneth Langford was the daughter McNeil had begged her to have. After a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that nearly cost Victoria her life, she’d been terrified at the prospect of another child. The Langford family had always passed down the family name through only sons, and McNeil was their sole heir. When she confessed her fears, McNeil had promised her it didn’t matter if they had a boy or a girl; their child would be cherished.She’d heard rumors that Violet had nearly become the new Mrs. Langford—but she hadn’t been able to have children.Now, Victoria wondered if McNeil was encouraging Gwyn to bond with Violet… Was he hoping to hand their daughter over to her?She closed her eyes, unwilling to follow that line of thought any further.Six years of marriage, months of pregnancy and pain, all for this. For love, she’d nearly died. And for what?Had she just been a tool for McNeil all along?She stared through the windshield, then picked up her phone and dialed McNeil’s number.The phone rang loudly enough for her to hear it from inside the car. She watched as McNeil looked at the caller ID—but he didn’t answer. Not until Gwyneth tugged at his sleeve.“Daddy, is that Mommy? If you don’t answer, she’ll threaten to hurt herself again.”Only then did McNeil finally swipe to accept the call.“Victoria?” His voice was cold, detached—a world away from the gentle tones he reserved for Violet.Victoria lowered her gaze. “Where have you taken Gwyn?”McNeil glanced at Violet and Gwyneth, pressing a finger to his lips, signaling Gwyneth to stay quiet. The three of them shared the kind of secretive understanding that only close-knit families do.Silence stretched between them.Victoria’s grip tightened on her phone, knuckles turning white.“Today’s our anniversary. When are you coming home?”McNeil hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment.After a long pause, he finally spoke. “I remember. I bought you a present. I wanted to surprise you later.”Just then, fireworks burst above the amusement park—exploding with a thunder that filled the air. Both Victoria and McNeil heard it clearly over the phone.McNeil instinctively looked up.There, straight ahead at twelve o’clock, sat a red Ferrari. Through the windshield, he locked eyes with his wife.Violet scooped Gwyneth into her arms, pressing herself close to McNeil.Whatever resolve Victoria had to get out of the car vanished as she watched the three of them, so natural together.She felt a bitter pang of regret.She realized, maybe she was the one intruding on their happiness.McNeil’s eyes widened in alarm, as if he wanted to go to her. But Violet and Gwyneth clung to his hands, refusing to let him go.“Daddy, did Mommy follow us?”Violet’s voice was soft and almost a whisper. “Let me go talk to Victoria. I’m sure she just misunderstood.”On the phone, Victoria’s reply was chilly, almost inhuman.“That won’t be necessary. There’s no misunderstanding.”She slowly set down her phone and fixed her gaze on Yasmine in the driver’s seat. “Drive.”When they returned to the house, Yasmine walked beside Victoria, quietly giving her a report.“Ms. Marchand dated your husband for years. The two of them were so close, everyone thought they’d get married. But Ms. Marchand can’t have children, so Mr. Langford’s grandfather refused to approve the marriage. That’s why—”Yasmine trailed off, but Victoria smiled faintly.“That’s why he married me.”One daughter wasn’t enough for the Langford family. Just last month, McNeil’s father made it clear he expected a second child.Another child?Ha.Was this all just careful preparation to make sure Violet could take her place in the family? This way, the next Mrs. Langford wouldn’t even have to endure pregnancy—she’d simply inherit a husband, a son, and a daughter, all gift-wrapped and ready.What a plan. What a scheme.Yasmine leaned closer. “The good news is, Violet was diagnosed with stomach cancer three months ago. The doctors say she has about a year left.”Victoria’s breath caught.Stomach cancer. That’s what McNeil’s grandfather had, too.Truly, what a family—they even got sick the same way.Night deepened. The grandfather clock struck ten, its chimes echoing through the quiet house.A fire crackled in the living room fireplace, but Victoria sat wide awake on the couch, staring into the flames.The front door opened, bringing a rush of icy air from outside.Only Gwyneth came in. McNeil was nowhere to be seen.“Mom, why did you show up at the amusement park today?” Gwyneth’s cheeks were flushed red with anger.“Dad and Violet promised to take me to see the midnight fireworks. It’s Christmas, and because of you, Dad sent me home early.”Victoria’s heart clenched. That’s right. It was Christmas—her birthday.She stood, walked over, and knelt in front of Gwyneth, reaching out to brush the snowflakes from her daughter’s coat. Gwyneth turned away with a scowl, refusing to look at her.“Ms. Marchand is sick. That’s why we’re spending time with her. She’s so nice to me—she buys me everything I like and eats wherever I want. Of course I want to be there for her, too.But you’re so mean, Mom. You won’t even leave a sick woman alone. You followed us, and now Ms. Marchand is upset. Dad’s mad, too, and he wouldn’t let me stay. Is that what you wanted?”Gwyneth pouted, her big eyes brimming with resentment.Haley, the housekeeper, couldn’t listen any longer. “Miss, you shouldn’t say that. Your mother knitted your favorite sweater for you by hand, and she made you a giant Christmas stocking filled with all your favorite toys.”Haley felt frustrated. Mrs. Langford had raised Gwyneth from birth, and now the child was siding with a woman she’d only just met—turning her back on her own mother.Gwyneth didn’t even look at her. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t want those stupid toys.”Victoria felt the pain seep into her bones, dull and numbing. It wasn’t her daughter’s accusations that hurt the most, but the cold rejection in Gwyneth’s eyes—the same look McNeil gave her whenever he lost patience.Haley hurried over and tried to cover Gwyneth’s mouth. “Miss, don’t say that. You’re making your mother so sad.”Victoria straightened slowly, feeling numb despite the warmth of the room.“Gwyn, I’m going to divorce your father.”Even now, part of her hoped—despite everything—that she might still matter to her daughter.“That’s for the best. I wish Ms. Marchand could be my mom instead.”I wish Ms. Marchand could be my mother. The last piece of Victoria’s marriage snapped.Her mind was made up.This time, she would never go back to McNeil.Victoria spent the entire night sitting alone. The last embers in the fireplace flickered out, but there was still no sign of McNeil.She picked up the phone and called Yasmine.“Take me to the hospital.”It was midwinter, and last night’s snowfall had left the trees lining the street dusted in silver. The moment she stepped outside, the cold seemed to seep straight into her bones.Victoria sat by her grandfather-in-law’s bedside, carefully peeling an apple for him with a paring knife.“McNeil told me you agreed to have another child. That’s good.”The old man smiled at his granddaughter-in-law, deep wrinkles crinkling with genuine happiness.She paused mid-peel. “Dr. Kelvin, the stomach cancer specialist, arrived this morning. I want to schedule your surgery as soon as possible. He can only stay in the country for two days.”The old man nodded. “I trust you, Victoria. If it weren’t for your connections, I doubt we could have brought him here.”Victoria’s dark eyes were sharp and unwavering. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. Dr. Kelvin will cure you. I promise.”The next dayMcNeil finally returned, exhaustion written all over him.The moment he saw Victoria, his expression turned cold. But for Violet’s sake, he forced himself to keep his temper in check.“Was it you who had Dr. Kelvin transferred from Violet’s case?”Victoria’s tone was calm. “I brought Dr. Kelvin here to save your grandfather’s life, not to play the savior for everyone else. If you want him to treat your beloved, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”McNeil stared at her, his eyes dark and stormy, anger simmering just beneath the surface—ready to erupt at any moment.“Why would you do this? She’s dying. She needs the best care.”Victoria met his gaze, her beautiful eyes eerily calm.Her voice didn’t waver. “McNeil, let’s be fair. She’s your lover, not mine. I owe nothing to a woman who stole my husband and then has the nerve to ask me for favors. How can you even say that with a straight face?”She felt she was already being far more tolerant than Violet deserved.“Victoria, Violet has less than a year left. She gave you me—her whole life.”“So you never loved me, did you?” Victoria’s voice was steady, but there was a quiet finality to it. “You always thought I was the intruder, that I stole another woman’s man. Isn’t that right?”At last, he said it outright—he belonged to Violet, not to Victoria.What, then, had those six years meant—the nights spent side by side, his hands on her body, seeking her out again and again? Was he just pretending?“Don’t be so harsh, Victoria. You knew about her from the beginning.”McNeil’s shamelessness made Victoria’s face turn ashen.This was her own fault. She’d known he loved another, yet insisted on marrying him anyway.She deserved this.Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. There was no longing or love left in their depths.“Read it carefully before you sign. If you do, I’ll have Dr. Kelvin treat your precious Violet.”McNeil picked up the divorce agreement. With every line he read, his frown deepened.“You want thirty percent of The Langford Group’s shares, and a twenty million annual alimony for one year?”His face darkened as he reached the eighth line.“You don’t want custody of Gwyn?”How could she be so ruthless?McNeil tossed the thin stack of papers to the floor and ground his heel into them.Her lips stung as his strong fingers pressed down, roughly rubbing against her mouth.“Mrs. Langford, I leave for a few days and you’re already talking divorce?”Ignoring the fact that the staff could walk by at any moment, McNeil pinned Victoria beneath him right there on the living room couch.Victoria didn’t fight back as he expected; she just lay there motionless, as if she were made of wood.Every time they fought, this was his answer.But—Desire only comes when there’s love. And she no longer had any left for him.Chapter 3Today marked Victoria Turner and McNeil Langford’s sixth wedding anniversary. But instead of celebrating with his wife, McNeil had taken their daughter to a birthday party—for his mistress.Sitting behind the wheel of her sedan, Victoria watched in silence as her husband, their little girl, and the woman he’d hidden for six years celebrated together.The young woman wore a bright red dress, bold and eye-catching. Their daughter was dressed in a matching outfit, the picture of innocence. McNeil stayed by their side, laughing and playing, looking every bit the proud father and devoted partner. To anyone else, they could have been mistaken for a perfect little family.“Violet, happy birthday. This is my gift to you,” McNeil said, opening an elegantly wrapped jewelry box.Victoria’s eyes locked onto the box as he slowly revealed its contents, and all the color drained from her face.It was her mother’s emerald necklace—the one McNeil had borrowed, claiming he needed it for “something important.”She remembered how, years ago, Violet Marchand had seen it around her neck and remarked offhandedly, “McNeil, I love that necklace. I wish I had one just like it.”Now, her husband was presenting the last thing her mother left her to another woman.“Gwyn, come here and give Violet a kiss,” McNeil coaxed, gently guiding their daughter toward Violet.Victoria pressed a hand to her chest. Gwyn—her daughter, the child she’d carried for nine months—had never warmed to anyone but her. She couldn’t imagine her little girl embracing another woman.But then—Gwyn leaned in and kissed Violet right on the forehead, then wrapped her in a big, affectionate hug.“Violet, could you be my mommy too?” she asked, her voice sweet and trusting.Victoria’s mind reeled. When had Gwyn become so close to Violet?Gwyneth Langford was the daughter McNeil had begged her to have. After a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that nearly cost Victoria her life, she’d been terrified at the prospect of another child. The Langford family had always passed down the family name through only sons, and McNeil was their sole heir. When she confessed her fears, McNeil had promised her it didn’t matter if they had a boy or a girl; their child would be cherished.She’d heard rumors that Violet had nearly become the new Mrs. Langford—but she hadn’t been able to have children.Now, Victoria wondered if McNeil was encouraging Gwyn to bond with Violet… Was he hoping to hand their daughter over to her?She closed her eyes, unwilling to follow that line of thought any further.Six years of marriage, months of pregnancy and pain, all for this. For love, she’d nearly died. And for what?Had she just been a tool for McNeil all along?She stared through the windshield, then picked up her phone and dialed McNeil’s number.The phone rang loudly enough for her to hear it from inside the car. She watched as McNeil looked at the caller ID—but he didn’t answer. Not until Gwyneth tugged at his sleeve.“Daddy, is that Mommy? If you don’t answer, she’ll threaten to hurt herself again.”Only then did McNeil finally swipe to accept the call.“Victoria?” His voice was cold, detached—a world away from the gentle tones he reserved for Violet.Victoria lowered her gaze. “Where have you taken Gwyn?”McNeil glanced at Violet and Gwyneth, pressing a finger to his lips, signaling Gwyneth to stay quiet. The three of them shared the kind of secretive understanding that only close-knit families do.Silence stretched between them.Victoria’s grip tightened on her phone, knuckles turning white.“Today’s our anniversary. When are you coming home?”McNeil hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment.After a long pause, he finally spoke. “I remember. I bought you a present. I wanted to surprise you later.”Just then, fireworks burst above the amusement park—exploding with a thunder that filled the air. Both Victoria and McNeil heard it clearly over the phone.McNeil instinctively looked up.There, straight ahead at twelve o’clock, sat a red Ferrari. Through the windshield, he locked eyes with his wife.Violet scooped Gwyneth into her arms, pressing herself close to McNeil.Whatever resolve Victoria had to get out of the car vanished as she watched the three of them, so natural together.She felt a bitter pang of regret.She realized, maybe she was the one intruding on their happiness.McNeil’s eyes widened in alarm, as if he wanted to go to her. But Violet and Gwyneth clung to his hands, refusing to let him go.“Daddy, did Mommy follow us?”Violet’s voice was soft and almost a whisper. “Let me go talk to Victoria. I’m sure she just misunderstood.”On the phone, Victoria’s reply was chilly, almost inhuman.“That won’t be necessary. There’s no misunderstanding.”She slowly set down her phone and fixed her gaze on Yasmine in the driver’s seat. “Drive.”When they returned to the house, Yasmine walked beside Victoria, quietly giving her a report.“Ms. Marchand dated your husband for years. The two of them were so close, everyone thought they’d get married. But Ms. Marchand can’t have children, so Mr. Langford’s grandfather refused to approve the marriage. That’s why—”Yasmine trailed off, but Victoria smiled faintly.“That’s why he married me.”One daughter wasn’t enough for the Langford family. Just last month, McNeil’s father made it clear he expected a second child.Another child?Ha.Was this all just careful preparation to make sure Violet could take her place in the family? This way, the next Mrs. Langford wouldn’t even have to endure pregnancy—she’d simply inherit a husband, a son, and a daughter, all gift-wrapped and ready.What a plan. What a scheme.Yasmine leaned closer. “The good news is, Violet was diagnosed with stomach cancer three months ago. The doctors say she has about a year left.”Victoria’s breath caught.Stomach cancer. That’s what McNeil’s grandfather had, too.Truly, what a family—they even got sick the same way.Night deepened. The grandfather clock struck ten, its chimes echoing through the quiet house.A fire crackled in the living room fireplace, but Victoria sat wide awake on the couch, staring into the flames.The front door opened, bringing a rush of icy air from outside.Only Gwyneth came in. McNeil was nowhere to be seen.“Mom, why did you show up at the amusement park today?” Gwyneth’s cheeks were flushed red with anger.“Dad and Violet promised to take me to see the midnight fireworks. It’s Christmas, and because of you, Dad sent me home early.”Victoria’s heart clenched. That’s right. It was Christmas—her birthday.She stood, walked over, and knelt in front of Gwyneth, reaching out to brush the snowflakes from her daughter’s coat. Gwyneth turned away with a scowl, refusing to look at her.“Ms. Marchand is sick. That’s why we’re spending time with her. She’s so nice to me—she buys me everything I like and eats wherever I want. Of course I want to be there for her, too.But you’re so mean, Mom. You won’t even leave a sick woman alone. You followed us, and now Ms. Marchand is upset. Dad’s mad, too, and he wouldn’t let me stay. Is that what you wanted?”Gwyneth pouted, her big eyes brimming with resentment.Haley, the housekeeper, couldn’t listen any longer. “Miss, you shouldn’t say that. Your mother knitted your favorite sweater for you by hand, and she made you a giant Christmas stocking filled with all your favorite toys.”Haley felt frustrated. Mrs. Langford had raised Gwyneth from birth, and now the child was siding with a woman she’d only just met—turning her back on her own mother.Gwyneth didn’t even look at her. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t want those stupid toys.”Victoria felt the pain seep into her bones, dull and numbing. It wasn’t her daughter’s accusations that hurt the most, but the cold rejection in Gwyneth’s eyes—the same look McNeil gave her whenever he lost patience.Haley hurried over and tried to cover Gwyneth’s mouth. “Miss, don’t say that. You’re making your mother so sad.”Victoria straightened slowly, feeling numb despite the warmth of the room.“Gwyn, I’m going to divorce your father.”Even now, part of her hoped—despite everything—that she might still matter to her daughter.“That’s for the best. I wish Ms. Marchand could be my mom instead.”I wish Ms. Marchand could be my mother. The last piece of Victoria’s marriage snapped.Her mind was made up.This time, she would never go back to McNeil.Victoria spent the entire night sitting alone. The last embers in the fireplace flickered out, but there was still no sign of McNeil.She picked up the phone and called Yasmine.“Take me to the hospital.”It was midwinter, and last night’s snowfall had left the trees lining the street dusted in silver. The moment she stepped outside, the cold seemed to seep straight into her bones.Victoria sat by her grandfather-in-law’s bedside, carefully peeling an apple for him with a paring knife.“McNeil told me you agreed to have another child. That’s good.”The old man smiled at his granddaughter-in-law, deep wrinkles crinkling with genuine happiness.She paused mid-peel. “Dr. Kelvin, the stomach cancer specialist, arrived this morning. I want to schedule your surgery as soon as possible. He can only stay in the country for two days.”The old man nodded. “I trust you, Victoria. If it weren’t for your connections, I doubt we could have brought him here.”Victoria’s dark eyes were sharp and unwavering. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. Dr. Kelvin will cure you. I promise.”The next dayMcNeil finally returned, exhaustion written all over him.The moment he saw Victoria, his expression turned cold. But for Violet’s sake, he forced himself to keep his temper in check.“Was it you who had Dr. Kelvin transferred from Violet’s case?”Victoria’s tone was calm. “I brought Dr. Kelvin here to save your grandfather’s life, not to play the savior for everyone else. If you want him to treat your beloved, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”McNeil stared at her, his eyes dark and stormy, anger simmering just beneath the surface—ready to erupt at any moment.“Why would you do this? She’s dying. She needs the best care.”Victoria met his gaze, her beautiful eyes eerily calm.Her voice didn’t waver. “McNeil, let’s be fair. She’s your lover, not mine. I owe nothing to a woman who stole my husband and then has the nerve to ask me for favors. How can you even say that with a straight face?”She felt she was already being far more tolerant than Violet deserved.“Victoria, Violet has less than a year left. She gave you me—her whole life.”“So you never loved me, did you?” Victoria’s voice was steady, but there was a quiet finality to it. “You always thought I was the intruder, that I stole another woman’s man. Isn’t that right?”At last, he said it outright—he belonged to Violet, not to Victoria.What, then, had those six years meant—the nights spent side by side, his hands on her body, seeking her out again and again? Was he just pretending?“Don’t be so harsh, Victoria. You knew about her from the beginning.”McNeil’s shamelessness made Victoria’s face turn ashen.This was her own fault. She’d known he loved another, yet insisted on marrying him anyway.She deserved this.Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. There was no longing or love left in their depths.“Read it carefully before you sign. If you do, I’ll have Dr. Kelvin treat your precious Violet.”McNeil picked up the divorce agreement. With every line he read, his frown deepened.“You want thirty percent of The Langford Group’s shares, and a twenty million annual alimony for one year?”His face darkened as he reached the eighth line.“You don’t want custody of Gwyn?”How could she be so ruthless?McNeil tossed the thin stack of papers to the floor and ground his heel into them.Her lips stung as his strong fingers pressed down, roughly rubbing against her mouth.“Mrs. Langford, I leave for a few days and you’re already talking divorce?”Ignoring the fact that the staff could walk by at any moment, McNeil pinned Victoria beneath him right there on the living room couch.Victoria didn’t fight back as he expected; she just lay there motionless, as if she were made of wood.Every time they fought, this was his answer.But—Desire only comes when there’s love. And she no longer had any left for him.