My dad said, "Alison, wait for us. Do you have somewhere to stay? I'll buy you a place right now."

My dad's voice was low but furious, vowing to make Vincent's life a living hell. With a grim expression, Kevin had already taken control of the company, issuing orders to every department, determined to make sure Vincent spent the rest of his life regretting what he had done.

After they comforted me and I ended the call, I collapsed back into the bed and sobbed under the covers, trembling all over.

There was a reason I tried so hard—why I went through round after round of hormone injections, why I risked my health just to try IVF.

When we had just started dating, I was nearly attacked on the street. A man lunged at me with a knife, and Vincent stepped in without hesitation, grabbing the blade with his bare hand to protect me.

The edge sliced halfway through his palm. He nearly lost use

Vincent didn't come home until late that night.

"Darling, look what I got you," he called out proudly the moment he walked in, holding up a bright orange shopping bag like it was something priceless.

Inside was a set of Hermès dinnerware.

"You've always loved cooking, and I love everything you make. So I got these just for you," he added.

I smiled and thanked him, trying to sound touched. "It's way too expensive. Don't buy such things again, okay?"

He reached out and gently ruffled my hair. "I don't care about the money. You've sacrificed so much for me, Ali. You deserve the best."

For a moment, I almost believed he meant it. How could someone fake love so convincingly—even with eyes that held nothing?

Seeing I wasn't angry anymore, Vincent let out a relieved sigh and kissed my forehead before heading off to change clothes.

At the sight of the dinnerware set in front of me, a wav

When I came to again, the first thing I saw was Pamela Wolfe—my mother-in-law, and one of the most bitter women I had ever met.

She stood with her arms crossed, glaring down at me as I lay on the hospital bed inside the emergency room. A cold, mocking smile curled on her lips.

"Look, Ali, if you can't give my son a child, maybe it's time to step aside. Don't waste my son's prime years.

"As a woman, you can't even give him a baby. All those hormone shots—for what? You've burned through all his money on useless treatments, and for what? You're nothing but bad luck.

"Look at yourself. Seriously. Do you even know what you look like anymore? How do you have the nerve to still cling to the title of Mrs. Dolton? You're old and worn out. You think you're worthy of him?"

I had just turned thirty.

I had been with Vincent for ten years, standing by his side as he built everything from scratch.

I gave up a life of luxury and a multi-billion-dollar inheritance to stand beside him as he built his company. My dad and my brother, Kevin Grant, gave Vincent every bit of support they could, helping him to become the man he was today.

I hadn't married into his family only to be humiliated by this woman.

I had tolerated Pamela for ten years.

Today, I had had enough. I got up and shoved her back. 

"Ali! What the hell are you doing?" Vincent's furious voice boomed as he kicked the door open.

He had just arrived. And the first thing he saw was me pushing his mother. Without a second of hesitation, he stormed forward and slapped me across the face. "Have you lost your mind? You dare lay a hand on my mother?"

"Vincent, she didn't hit me," Pamela blurted out in panic.

All these years, she had mocked me, but she also knew exactly who my family was. The Grant family wasn't a family to be crossed without consequences, and she knew it.

If I had really laid a hand on her, she might not have lived to see another day.

Vincent suddenly froze. He opened his mouth, faltering. "Then… I… I'm sorry, Ali. I didn't mean to. I was just—"

He stepped forward, trying to get close to me.

I stepped back. Whatever warmth I still had for him, whatever last flicker of hope—I had felt it burn out with that slap.

I stared at his crumpled shirt. Just below the collar, a red mark peeked through—too high up to ignore, too intimate to dismiss.

He noticed my gaze and quickly tugged his shirt to cover the red mark.

"I'm sorry, Ali. I just misunderstood the situation. I didn't mean it. Are you okay?"

When I said nothing, his panic grew.

Then, as if trying to prove his remorse, he punished himself hard enough that the sound echoed.

Still, I remained silent.

Vincent had never been on the receiving end of this kind of cold indifference from me before, and it clearly unsettled him—his expression darkened.

"If you don't want to talk, that's okay. Just rest. I'll get my mom out of here so she doesn't bother you."

He put a hand on Pamela's back and led her away, thinking I would lie down and rest, but I didn't.

…

Instead, I pushed the door open and walked out.

He and Pamela were standing right around the corner.

Behind the door, Vincent lowered his voice. "Mom, why are you in such a rush? She's still doing IVF, isn't she? If she actually gets pregnant, there's no way she would threaten my business. She'll have to think about the baby."

Pamela scoffed. "I just hate that she's doing nothing. You know, wasting time and dragging things out."

Vincent chuckled darkly. "What's the rush? You know what her father and brother are worth. Even a small piece of their estate is enough to last us a lifetime. They're about to significantly invest in my company. Once I secure that, I won't need anything else.

"When Alison gives birth, everything falls into place. Their wealth will eventually become mine. By then, you can deal with her however you want."

Pamela's tone turned vicious. "I've already looked into a few remedies. When she's recovering after giving birth, I'll feed her the right 'soup' to make sure she hemorrhages. She acts like she's above me. 

"I asked her to wash my underwear, and she had the nerve to scowl. Serving me is her job—it's what a daughter-in-law is for. If she can't deal with that, then she can go ahead and die."
 
Vincent groaned, annoyed. "Do whatever you want. I'm not getting dragged into your mess."

Murder, stealing my family inheritance, using me to bear a child, continuing his bloodline, then discarding me—those chilling words came from the very man I had loved and stood beside for ten years.

I had never treated Pamela with anything but respect, yet here she was, wishing for my death. And not just any death, but the slowest, most painful one she could imagine.

These past ten years, I poured my heart, soul, and everything I had into them—only to raise two ungrateful monsters.

My whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Dragging myself into the restroom, I locked the door and grabbed my phone. My hands shook as I dialed my dad.

Kevin was with him.

When their faces appeared on the screen, their expressions instantly tightened with worry.

I swallowed and steadied my voice. "Dad… Vincent's been cheating on me with a new intern. And his mother… She's planning to kill me after I give birth."

On the other end, my dad went still. Then, without saying a word, he hurled a crystal vase worth over eight million dollars onto the floor. It shattered instantly.

Kevin's jaw clenched as veins bulged from his forehead. He was already making calls.

My dad said, "Alison, wait for us. Do you have somewhere to stay? I'll buy you a place right now."

My dad's voice was low but furious, vowing to make Vincent's life a living hell. With a grim expression, Kevin had already taken control of the company, issuing orders to every department, determined to make sure Vincent spent the rest of his life regretting what he had done.

After they comforted me and I ended the call, I collapsed back into the bed and sobbed under the covers, trembling all over.

There was a reason I tried so hard—why I went through round after round of hormone injections, why I risked my health just to try IVF.

When we had just started dating, I was nearly attacked on the street. A man lunged at me with a knife, and Vincent stepped in without hesitation, grabbing the blade with his bare hand to protect me.

The edge sliced halfway through his palm. He nearly lost use of it, but he saved my life.

Now that love had vanished. 

Back then, he had loved me. Or at least

Chapter 7