Chapter 1

For three years of marriage, Ethan Foster had hated me.

All because of a maritime disaster three years ago. He was convinced my father had gotten his parents killed, and he made me atone through endless torment.

Then his mistress, Mia Collins, pretended I had pushed her down the stairs. The incident caused me to miscarry and suffer a massive hemorrhage, yet Ethan ordered a hysterectomy, leaving me unable to have children ever again.

Lying on the operating table, I begged him to save our baby. Instead, he extinguished my last flicker of hope himself.

At last, I gave up on him and booked a staged-death service for a month later.

Ethan thought I would be trapped in his hatred forever. What he didn’t know was that I had already decided to disappear for good.

Claire Bennett POV

I sat alone on the bed in my VIP hospital room, my vacant gaze drifting past the pale sheets to the dead sycamore outside the window.

The late-autumn wind stripped away its last yellow leaf, like the piece of flesh and blood that had just been forcibly torn from my body, falling into the mud with no life left in it.

The anesthesia in my lower abdomen was wearing off, and a ripping pain was slowly rising in its place.

But worse than the physical agony was the hollow feeling of having a vital organ carved out of my body.

“Ms. Bennett, the surgery is over.”

A few hours earlier, the attending physician had stood beside my bed, his face full of pity. “You suffered a massive hemorrhage. Your condition was critical… We had to remove your uterus.”

In that instant, my whole world came crashing down.

Until then, I hadn’t even known I was two months pregnant.

For three years, Ethan had been almost brutal in bed. Every time felt like another knife to my heart. I thought my life had long since become worse than death—until three days ago, when Mia arranged to meet me, strutting in on her high heels.

The woman stroked her flat stomach, her smile laced with poison. “Claire Bennett, I’m pregnant with Ethan Foster’s baby. What good does clinging to the title of Mrs. Foster do you? Ethan says just looking at your face makes him sick.”

I had only given her a cold glare and turned to leave. But Mia suddenly lunged at me like a madwoman, grabbing and pulling at me.

When we reached the edge of the stairs, a malicious smile curled her lips. Then she abruptly threw herself backward and tumbled down the staircase like a ball.

Blood seeped from beneath Mia’s skirt. And at that exact moment, Ethan opened the door.

He rushed straight to Mia’s side, anxiously asking where she was hurt. He didn’t so much as glance at me, standing at the top of the stairs, trembling all over, my face just as pale.

“If anything happens to her baby, you’ll pay with your life!” Those were the last words Ethan said when he turned to look at me.

After that, his bodyguards forcibly escorted me to this private hospital. When the shock and violent tugging left me with a dragging pain in my lower abdomen, followed by a warm rush between my legs, I finally realized something was wrong. I clutched the doctor’s sleeve and begged them to save the life inside me.

But Ethan gave a direct order. “Don’t save it. Since she enjoys killing so much, take out her uterus, too. Make sure she can never have a child.”

I never even saw my baby. I hadn’t had a chance to feel its heartbeat before it became a pool of blood. Along with it, Ethan had ripped away my chance to be a mother.

The door to the hospital room opened, interrupting my memories.

Ethan stood tall in a black designer suit. Mia was tucked in his arms, a piece of gauze taped to her forehead.

“Claire Bennett, does it still hurt?” Mia nestled against Ethan, her voice taunting. “Ethan was just too angry. But you pushed me down the stairs and almost killed me and our baby… How could you be so cruel?”

I didn’t look at Mia. I only turned my stiff neck and fixed my lifeless eyes on Ethan. This man had once been the husband I loved more than anyone, the one who had promised to protect me for the rest of his life.

“Are you satisfied now?” My voice was hoarse.

Ethan looked at my paper-white face and sneered. Releasing Mia, he walked slowly to the bed and gripped my chin.

“Satisfied? Claire Bennett, you call this suffering?” His eyes were terrifyingly dark. “Three years ago, if your parents hadn’t insisted on dragging mine out to sea, would they have been caught in that storm and drowned? Four lives lost, and not even their bodies could be found! All you’ve lost is an undeveloped embryo and a useless organ. This is what you owe!”

“My parents disappeared, too…” My eyes reddened. “Ethan Foster, they were my parents! Do you think you’re the only one who’s hurting?”

“Shut up!” Ethan shoved me away. “The daughter of murderers has no right to speak of them. Stay here and rest. You’re nowhere near finished paying for your sins.”

With that, he slipped an arm around Mia’s waist and left without a backward glance. The door slammed hard enough to shake the last withered leaf from the tree outside.

Deathly silence settled over the room again.

With difficulty, I laid a hand over my flat lower abdomen. The wound there throbbed, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of my heart shattering.

I had endured three years of torment. I had always believed that if I stayed by his side, if I soothed his wounds with endless patience and forgiveness, the young man who used to warm my hands against his chest on winter nights would someday come back.

But today, that innocent pool of blood in my womb had washed away the last trace of my love for Ethan.

I owed him nothing now. My parents, my baby, half my life—I had paid it all back.

I pulled my old phone from beneath the pillow, my fingers trembling with weakness. With practiced ease, I entered a complicated password and dialed a number hidden within an encrypted system.

The call connected after three rings. A mechanical male voice, filtered through a voice changer, answered, “Who is this?”

“It’s me.” I looked at the gray sky outside. My voice was so faint a breath of wind could have scattered it, yet beneath it lay a deathly, unyielding resolve. “The staged-death service. I want to leave in one month. I’ll let you know the location.”

“Your deposit has been confirmed. In one month, you’ll have what you want.”

I hung up and slipped the phone back beneath my pillow. Closing my eyes, I let the searing pain of my wound consume my senses. Yet a bleak smile slowly curved my lips.

Ethan Foster, the life sentence you gave me ends here.