On the day of my nineteenth wedding ceremony, my grandmother collapsed from a sudden heart attack.
My husband’s childhood sweetheart—driven by her ambition to become the youngest chief cardiac surgeon—snuck into the operating room without telling anyone.
However, the surgery failed.
My grandmother never woke up again.
When my father knelt at the hospital entrance, begging for justice, someone shoved a sack over his head and beat him until his legs broke.
I was furious, desperate to sue Maxine, but on my way to the police station, my husband’s car struck me. With multiple fractures, and shattered ribs, I was rushed straight into the ICU.
Half-conscious as they wheeled me into a room, I heard one of Drake’s friends say casually, “First, the wedding house caught fire. Now her grandmother’s ‘accident.’ Drake, what excuse are you using this time to delay the wedding again?”
A tremor ran through me. My blood froze.
And then I heard Drake’s calm voice—the same man who once claimed he’d love me forever.
“Next time, there won’t be any delay.”
“Wait,” his friend said, lowering his voice. “You really plan to marry that woman? What about your little childhood sweetheart?”
Drake’s tone softened, but every word cut like glass. “During the darkest three years of my life, Louise was the one who stayed by my side, and I promised I’d repay her kindness.”
“But now that I’ve come back and met Maxine again—she’s the woman I always thought would be my wife. That kind of love isn’t something I can just forget.”
“Delaying the wedding nineteen times was already my selfishness. If Louise just behaves and agrees not to press charges against Maxine, I’ll fulfill my promise to her.”
I couldn’t breathe.
So this was the truth behind all those delays.
I used to believe each cancellation was an accident, that fate was simply unkind to us.
Back then, the first wedding was canceled after Maxine’s dog bit me, leaving me hospitalized. The second, after Drake insisted on teaching me to swim and I nearly drowned. The third, after I was stabbed in a supposed “revenge attack” from one of his enemies.
But now I knew—every single one was orchestrated by him.
All because he never wanted to marry me.
And this time, to escape marriage, he even let my grandmother’s surgery fail—turning her into a vegetable.
Tears blurred my eyes. My heart felt like it was being cut open, but I knew one thing for sure—I would never stay in this fake engagement again!
With trembling hands, I called Drake’s mother.
My voice shook, but my tone was resolute. “I accept your offer. One hundred million. I’ll leave Drake and disappear from his life forever.”
…
There was a pause, then her cold, elegant voice came through the receiver.
“Seven days. You have seven days to pack up and disappear from Drake’s life.”
“I’ll transfer one million now. Once you leave, the remaining ninety-nine million will be in your account immediately.”
After saying that, she hung up.
I sat frozen on the hospital bed. My tears wouldn’t fall, but the weight in my chest made it hard to breathe.
Just then, the door opened.
Drake stepped in. He took my hand gently, as if the car crash he caused had been a bad dream.
“Don’t blame Maxine,” he said softly. “She just got a little ahead of herself. The failed surgery wasn’t all her fault.”
“She…” My voice cracked. “She turned my grandmother into a vegetable!”
“She already knows she was wrong,” he interrupted gently, “She’s been blaming herself for days, and can’t even eat. She told me she’ll apologize to you properly.”
Then, he added in that same calm, coaxing tone, “I’ll do everything I can to help your father and grandmother. Just listen to me, Louise. Don’t be stubborn. We’ll finish our wedding soon.”
Wedding…
When he said that word, his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t name.
I thought of the conversation I’d overheard—and suddenly, I understood.
“I don’t want her apology!” I snapped. “She hurt someone—she should pay for it!”
Instantly, his expression turned dark. “Louise, you’re disappointing me.”
He slowly raised his phone. The cold light from the screen reflected in his eyes.
“Drop the charges against Maxine… or watch your father lose his chance to walk again. You have thirty seconds.”
My lungs seized. I could barely breathe.
Why?
Why had everything turned into this?
Where was the boy my father and I once protected from bullies, the boy I defended even when the world mocked him for being a “fake heir”?
Where was the young man who blushed when my grandmother gave him extra food and whispered, ‘It’s the first time anyone’s done this for me’?
Where was the man who once swore, ‘I’ll love you forever, Louise’?
Staring at him, countless memories flashed in my mind.
Seven years ago, Drake had been revealed as the wrong son—switched at birth. When the truth came out, he was sent back to his biological family in the countryside.
He stood outside the shabby house next door, wearing dirty old clothes, eyes lost and empty.
I was the one who reached out to him, shared my food, defended him from the mockery, and told him he was still worth something.
We grew up together. Those high school years were the happiest of my life.
After the college entrance exams, we both got into top universities. Before I could even celebrate, the Becker family suddenly wanted him back.
But he held my hand and said, “Come with me, Louise. I’ll take care of you. I’ll marry you one day.”
I believed him.
Then, in college, Maxine appeared—his elegant, well-bred childhood fiancée.
At banquets, they stood together beneath glittering chandeliers, perfectly matched.
And I—awkward and out of place—stood in the corner, clutching my glass like a fool.
But back then, Drake would still take my hand in front of everyone and say, “This is my fiancée.”
He helped me build my career, protected me when others tried to undermine me, and crossed oceans just to care for me when I was sick.
I had never once doubted his love.
Until now.
Looking at his cold, unyielding face, hearing his threats, I realized—all that tenderness was guilt.
Not love.
His heart had always belonged to Maxine.
And I… I had only been a debt he wanted to repay. I was just a wildflower by the road—someone who had helped him once, someone he pitied.
My love, it turned out, was nothing more than a cruel joke.
“Three… two—”
“Fine,” I whispered. My voice trembled. “I’ll do it.”
Drake paused, then smiled faintly. He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin atop my head.
“Good girl. Just bear with it one more time. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
But as his arms tightened around me, my gaze drifted to his phone.
On the back of his case was a photo of him and Maxine, both young, smiling, their faces pressed together.
My heart stopped.
He had never liked using phone cases before. I’d begged him countless times, and he’d always refused, saying they were childish.
Yet now… he carried her face with him everywhere.
My hands shook uncontrollably, but I forced the words out. “Can you… arrange my father’s surgery now?”
“Of course,” he said gently. “I’ll—”
Before he could finish, the door burst open.
Maxine’s assistant rushed in, panting. “Mr. Becker, it’s bad! Miss Montoya just fainted!”
Drake’s expression changed instantly. He dropped my hand and ran out the door.
“Drake!” I screamed, reaching for him. “My father’s surgery—!”
But he flung my bandaged hand aside, his face twisted in disgust.
Pain shot through me, sharp and searing.
Every bit of warmth he’d ever shown me turned into shards of glass, cutting me from the inside out.
I watched his figure vanish through the door without a single backward glance.
The world went white. My throat burned with a silent scream.
Drake, since you’ve chosen to betray me so ruthlessly—then seven days from now, I’ll leave you without a trace. And you’ll never see me again.
The one million from Drake’s mother arrived quickly.
I clutched the check so tightly that my fingers ached as I ran to the hospital to pay the surgery deposit—my father couldn’t wait any longer.
But just as I finished the payment and was about to confirm the surgery time with the chief surgeon, a nurse stopped me.
All the orthopedic doctors—every single one—had been reassigned.
I froze, thinking there must be some kind of scheduling issue.
When I pressed for answers, the nurse lowered her voice and whispered, “It was Mr. Becker’s order. The specialists were called to consult for Miss Montoya.”
“Miss Montoya hasn’t eaten in days,” she added cautiously. “When she fainted today, she twisted her ankle. Mr. Becker was worried about long-term damage, so he asked the whole orthopedic team to check on her.”
A sharp ringing filled my ears. The hallway tilted and swayed.
I grabbed the nurse’s wrist, pleading, “Please—my father’s leg can’t wait any longer! You have to help him!”
But no one dared to meet my eyes.
No one dared disobey Drake’s command.
Half-crazed with panic, I stumbled toward Maxine’s ward, only to be blocked by the guards.
From inside, I heard her soft, delicate voice.
“Drake, is that Louise outside?”
The door opened.
Drake stood there, tall and composed, his expression calm but cold.
His eyes swept over my pale, disheveled face, and his brows knitted together. When he finally spoke, his words sliced through me like a blade.
“Louise, how could you be so heartless? Maxine hasn’t eaten for days because she feels guilty about you. Now she has hurt her foot, and when I call a doctor for her, you want to stop me? You’re being childish!”
My voice cracked into a scream. “Do you really not understand, Drake? My father’s leg is his life! He’s farmed his whole life—if his leg is gone, his entire world collapses! You know what this means to him!”
His face darkened, his tone like ice. “It’s just a few days’ delay. He’s not going to die. Are you done making a scene?”
My body went cold. I could feel my pulse thundering in my ears.
Inside the room, Maxine sat on the bed, her fragile figure framed by the pale hospital sheets.
Her eyes shimmered pitifully as she said in a weak, trembling tone, “Drake, don’t blame her. It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be so anxious… maybe you should just let the doctors—”
“Don’t mind her,” Drake interrupted gently, tucking her blanket with tender hands. “She’s just being unreasonable.”
Something inside me shattered.
Tears streamed down my face as I raised my hand and slapped him across the cheek.
The sound echoed through the corridor—sharp, clean, final.
“If my father can’t have surgery here, then I’ll take him somewhere else!”
Drake’s face turned to stone, fury flickering in his eyes. Before he could speak, Maxine let out a quiet, mocking laugh.
“Transfer him?”
She tilted her head, a taunting smile curving her lips. “Do you think transferring hospitals is that easy? What if something goes wrong on the way? Can you afford another delay?”
Her gaze drifted lazily to me, eyes gleaming with malice.
“Still, it’s not impossible to help you,” she said, voice dripping with sweetness. “If you kneel and beg me—knock your head on the floor and apologize—I might just feel generous enough to let your father have his surgery.”
My body went rigid.
And Drake, the man who once promised to protect me, didn’t even try to stop it.
Instead, he nodded faintly and said in a calm, indifferent tone, “She’s right. If it’ll make Maxine happy, I don’t mind. Louise, you’re being too stubborn. And now you’re hitting people too?”
He touched his cheek, his dark eyes unreadable. “Maxine is giving you a chance. Why aren’t you taking it?”
I looked at the two of them—the man who swore to love me forever, and the woman gloating over my father’s suffering.
My vision blurred. My heart twisted so tightly it hurt to breathe.
But my father was still waiting for me.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. My legs shook violently as I lowered myself to the ground.
Bang—
The sound of bone hitting tile echoed through the corridor.
My palms pressed against the cold floor, my voice trembled with desperation.
“Please… I’m begging you. Let my father have his surgery…”
I bowed my head once—hard.
Pain exploded across my forehead, and blood trickled down my temple.
I continued kowtowing until the world blurred and I heard her airy, teasing voice drift from the bed.
“Drake, my leg really hurts. Could you massage it for me?”
Without even glancing my way, Drake crouched beside her and began to gently rub her ankle.
Something inside me went silent.
After what felt like forever, he finally looked up, frowned, and said flatly, “That’s enough.”
He turned to his assistant and ordered, “Arrange the surgeons. Her father can have his operation.”
I trembled violently, using the wall for support as I forced myself upright.
My legs were so heavy it felt like I was dragging chains.
Drake took a step toward me, hand outstretched to help.
I flinched and jerked away.
For a moment, shock flashed in his eyes—as if he couldn’t comprehend why I would reject his touch.
But I didn’t stop.
Ignoring the pain tearing through my body, I turned and staggered toward my father’s ward.
After my father’s surgery, the doctor told me that although it was technically a success, the delay had caused poor bone healing. There would be lingering aftereffects.
My knees gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the cold hospital floor. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
If Drake hadn’t ordered all the doctors to tend to Maxine’s sprained ankle, my father wouldn’t have suffered this much.
By the time I had cried myself dry, I realized someone else had appeared in the corridor.
It was Carson—the real heir of the Becker family. My former neighbor.
Back then, he’d always been cold and distant. Every time I tried to befriend him as a child, I was rejected. Even after he returned to Becker household, he remained solitary and detached. We were never close.
Now, his expression was still as unreadable as ever, but he silently handed me a clean handkerchief.
I stared blankly before taking it.
“I know you promised my mother that you’d leave Drake,” he said evenly. “But you should understand—it won’t be easy to walk away with your family safe and sound.”
My knuckles turned white around the fabric, but my voice was steady. “I know. But I’m still leaving.”
Carson’s dark gaze lingered on me for a long time before he finally spoke again. “If you’ve truly made up your mind, I can help you. Divorce proceedings, relocation for your family—even a new life abroad. I can arrange it all.”
My heart raced wildly. My throat felt tight. I wanted to ask why he would help me, but I was terrified that questioning it would make this fragile opportunity vanish. So I just nodded.
He was silent for a while longer, then said casually, as if it were an afterthought, “When the time comes, all I’ll need in return is Drake’s weakness.”
He turned and walked away. I clutched the handkerchief, the ache in my chest slowly numbing into emptiness.
The Becker family—once you step in, it was harder to escape than to enter.
When Drake and I had just come of age, he had pulled me—almost desperately—into the civil affairs bureau.
“Louise, I’m too weak right now,” he said. His eyes were red, arms trembling as he held me close. “If we marry early, I can protect you. I promise I’ll make it up to you later with a proper wedding—grand and dazzling—so no one dares look down on you.”
I believed him wholeheartedly. I never imagined that “later” would never come, that the wedding he promised was never even planned.
And once the marriage certificate was signed, escaping it became nearly impossible.
Leaving Drake wasn’t just about breaking emotional ties—it meant cutting through the web of power and interests that bound me to the Becker family.
If I asked for a divorce, the old master would fly into a rage. Drake himself would never let me go—unless I agreed to leave with nothing and he signed the papers willingly.
But why should I leave with nothing?
I was the one who had saved him when his life was hanging by a thread. I was the one who gave up my scholarship abroad just to stay by his side.
Why should the one who walks away empty-handed be me?
Still, I knew Drake. He couldn’t distinguish love from guilt—he was addicted to the idea of “repaying kindness.”
Thankfully, Carson had promised to handle the paperwork. All I needed was Drake’s signature.
That night, I went home with a basket of groceries, planning to make soup for my father and bring it to the hospital.
The broth had just finished simmering when I heard footsteps outside.
Drake had returned—with Maxine in his arms.
Her ankle was wrapped in gauze, her movements delicate and slow. She leaned into him, her pale face, seemingly fragile and pitiful.
“Louise, you’re home?” Drake frowned as soon as he saw me, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes. “You’re still not fully recovered. You should be resting in the hospital. Let the maid handle the cooking.”
I met his gaze, my voice flat. “You sent all the maids to Maxine’s house to make her desserts. Remember?”
It had been a passing comment—Maxine had once mentioned she liked my cook’s cooking better than her maid’s. And the next day, Drake sent every maid we had to her home, leaving me alone with a fever, struggling to cook for myself.
He froze, a flicker of realization crossing his face. His expression tightened briefly before he smoothly changed the topic.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Maxine hurt her leg and didn’t want to stay in the hospital. She’ll just live here for a few days—until she recovers.”
“Do what you want,” I said softly, turning back to the stove, refusing to think about why Maxine had abandoned her mansion filled with servants only to insist on Drake taking care of her.
My words seemed to choke him. His brows drew together, and he kept glancing at me, as if trying to figure out what had changed.
Then Maxine’s soft voice broke the silence. “Drake, I’m a little hungry… Louise’s cooking smells so good. Do you think I could have a little taste?”
Drake turned immediately. “Louise, serve Maxine a bowl of soup. She made sure the doctors took good care of your father today. She wanted to make it up to you.”
Make it up to me?
The very woman who delayed my father’s surgery until he nearly ended up crippled—now she wanted to “make it up” by sipping my soup?
But I knew refusing would only make things worse for my father.
So I lowered my head and ladled the soup silently.
“Oh, I can’t possibly,” Maxine murmured, feigning panic. “This must be for Uncle Serrano. I’ve done so many wrong things—I couldn’t bear to take even a sip…”
“It’s fine,” Drake said quickly, his voice coaxing. “Louise doesn’t blame you. Right, Louise?”
His sharp eyes pinned me in place, demanding obedience.
My throat tightened. I couldn’t force a word out.
Seeing my silence, Maxine’s eyes glinted with triumph. She stepped closer, pretending to reach for the bowl.
“Louise, you’re so kind,” she said sweetly. “Drake and I grew up together. You’re his wife—I truly hope we can get along.”
Her hand brushed mine—soft, fragile.
Then, in the shadow of Drake’s line of sight, she suddenly pressed my wrist down onto the boiling hot rim of the ceramic pot.
“Ah—!” The searing pain made my knees buckle. My palm felt like it was being branded alive.
“What happened?!” Drake rushed forward, alarmed.
In that split second, Maxine let go—and knocked the bowl over.
Scalding soup splashed across my arms and chest. I screamed. A few drops landed on her hand, leaving tiny red marks.
“Ah!” she gasped dramatically, tears welling up instantly as she stumbled into his arms. “Drake, I only wanted to apologize to Louise. But she got so angry—she said she’d rather spill the soup than let me have a sip! If I hadn’t dodged, I would’ve been burned even worse…”
She showed him her faintly reddened skin, trembling.
Drake’s face darkened instantly.
“It wasn’t me!” I cried, showing my hand—blistered and raw. “She grabbed me! She pushed my hand onto the pot!”
But he didn’t even look. His voice was like ice.
“Louise, how could you be so vicious? Do you have any idea how important a surgeon’s hands are? Are you trying to ruin Maxine’s career?!”
“Drake!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision. “Look at me! I’m the one who’s burned—far worse than she is! Why won’t you believe me?!”
He glared at me, his expression twisted with disgust. “If she hadn’t dodged, she would be the one burned right now. How could you be so malicious? It’s sickening.”
The words struck like a slap. My face went cold and numb.
He turned away and pulled Maxine into his arms, trembling with anger and pity. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take you to the hospital right now.”
As I watched them, something inside me split open, raw and bleeding.
Then he barked out his order, “Someone, lock Louise in the cold storage. Let her reflect on her behavior.”
The words shattered what little strength I had left.
He knew I was terrified of the cold. And yet he still chose to lock me in a room frozen to eighteen degrees below zero.
So this was his love—the love he swore would protect me.
The bodyguards seized me by the arms.
“It wasn’t me! Open your eyes—she set me up! Maxine framed me! I didn’t do anything that cruel!” I struggled, thrashing against their grip, my voice hoarse and raw.
“Drake!” I screamed, desperate, “Didn’t you say you’d protect me? Look at me! Look at my hands!”
But no one listened. Not the guards. Not him.
The only answer I got was the heavy clang of an iron door slamming shut.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
The searing pain in my palm mingled with the bone-deep chill of the cold storage, fire and ice torturing me in turns.
And as I shivered in the dark, memories came flooding back.
Years ago, when we were still in the countryside, Drake’s drunken father nearly beat him to death.
I could still remember the terror in his eyes.
Without thinking, I threw myself between them.
The blow that was meant for him landed across my face, the slap so hard it filled my vision with stars.
Something inside Drake snapped.
He turned wild, like a cornered animal, lashing out at the man he’d always feared. He clawed, he fought, and when the older man staggered, he grabbed my hand and pulled me away into the rain.
We spent that night huddled in my tiny room while the storm beat against the roof.
I was trembling, clutching his hand. He held mine just as tightly, his eyes fierce yet gentle.
“Louise,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm, “I’ll never let you be afraid again.”
Back then, he was my shelter. Now, he had become the thing I feared most.
The cold bit into my skin, sank into my bones. I clenched my teeth to stop them from chattering. I couldn’t fall—not yet.
My grandmother and father were still waiting for me to come home, waiting for me to hold everything together.
“Drake! Let me out!” I kicked the iron door again and again until my toes went numb and my knuckles turned blue. But it didn’t budge.
I didn’t know how long I was in there before the door finally creaked open.
Drake stepped inside with several men behind him. His expression was eerily gentle.
“Louise,” he said softly, “are you cold?”
He approached and reached out to hold me.
My pupils trembled. I wanted to speak, to ask why, but my throat was so dry it felt blocked. No sound came out.
Then I noticed one of the men holding a metal kettle—steam rising from the spout.
My heart lurched.
“Drake… what are you doing?” I asked, forcing calm into my voice, afraid to let my thoughts go where they wanted to.
He didn’t answer—only looked at me with an unfamiliar glint in his eyes, colder than I’d ever seen.
“Louise,” he said quietly, “your biggest mistake was hurting Maxine.”
“I didn’t spill that soup!” I choked out. “You can check the surveillance cameras—it wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t me!”
But he didn’t even flinch.
He waved a hand.
The men stepped forward and forced me down against the freezing floor. I kicked, clawed, pleaded—but they were unmoved.
Then came the hiss of boiling water.
The next moment, pain exploded across my back as the scalding liquid hit my skin.
I screamed, my voice tearing from my lungs. It felt like my body was being split in half. The wounds from my surgery ripped open again, flesh searing, blood hissing as it met the heat.
I thought I’d already known pain, but I hadn’t. Not until that moment.
And through the agony, one thought kept repeating—I regret it.
I regretted leaving with Drake in the first place.
I regretted falling in love with him.
I regretted saving him that night, standing between him and his father.
I regretted being foolish enough to believe in his promises.
Because loving him had destroyed not just me—but my family.
Drake stood there, watching. His eyes were dark, like bottomless abyss. He looked like he wanted to say something several times, but in the end, he said nothing.
When it was finally over, he stepped closer and took off his coat, draping it gently over my shoulders.
“Louise,” he murmured, voice low and trembling, “be good. As long as you behave, I’ll treat you well. I promise.”
His tenderness felt like poison.
The world tilted. My vision went black, and I fainted.
—
When I woke again, I was staring at a blindingly white hospital ceiling. The sterile scent stung my nose. My back burned with every breath, the pain so sharp I couldn’t even cry.
The door opened.
Carson’s assistant stepped in, his expression calm and professional.
“Miss Serrano,” he said evenly, “the divorce agreement has been prepared.”
He continued, “Mr. Becker wanted to deliver it himself, but he’s been sent abroad on business. He asked me to remind you—you have five days. If you can get Drake’s signature within that time, he’ll handle the rest. You’ll have a way out.”
My eyes were empty, lifeless. I took the documents and clutched them tightly against my chest.
In the days that followed, while waiting for the divorce process to move forward, I quietly began arranging for my father and grandmother to be transferred to hospitals abroad.
But Maxine guarded them closely, refusing to let me transfer them. She wanted me under her control. Still, there were always moments when vigilance slips.
Three days later would be her birthday banquet. That would be my only chance to set everything in motion.
“Louise, you must attend Maxine’s birthday party.”
Drake’s voice was cold and commanding as he approached. “Your father’s recovery depends entirely on Maxine’s mood. I need you to go there and tell everyone that your grandmother’s surgery wasn’t her decision—that it was done with your consent.”
He continued, each word was like ice in my veins. “Your father’s outburst at the hospital has already caused enough public embarrassment. Maxine’s been humiliated in front of her friends because of you. You must fix it.”
My heart pounded, my throat went dry, fury and despair surging through me.
“Drake, are you insane?! Maxine is the reason my grandmother is still in a coma—what she did was a crime! And you want me to lie because of her?!”
He came closer, his breath grazing my ear, sickeningly gentle. “Louise, this really is the last time. Maxine’s father hasn’t acted yet, but if he decides to… I don’t want to see you hurt. Just be good, okay? Don’t provoke her.”
A tremor ran through me. The pain and humiliation tangled together until I could hardly breathe.
“As long as you agree,” he said, “I’ll make sure your father walks again. If you don’t…”
The rest of his words sliced into my heart like a blade.
I lifted my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist tightly.
“Louise,” he murmured, his tone almost tender, “don’t make this harder for me.”
The man before me was a stranger. The same man who once loved me, protected me was now a cold judge, weighing my obedience like a sentence.
Disgust. Rage. Revulsion. It all churned inside me until only one emotion remained—hatred, deep and unrelenting.
I forced myself to steady my voice. “Fine. I’ll go. But only if you buy a house for my father and grandmother to live in.”
I turned the last page of the supposed property contract—which was actually the divorce agreement—and handed it to him.
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