Chapter 2

Alessandro's eyes rimmed red as he grabbed my wrist:

"Are you insane?! Because I wouldn't give you three thousand, you killed our child?!"

"It wasn't my choice." My eyes were red. "I told you—it was an emergency."

"Alessandro! See? She's lying to you again!"

Serena stepped forward, clutching all my prenatal checkup reports from the entire pregnancy:

"Every single checkup was clear. There's no way something suddenly went wrong last night!"

"You know exactly why it went wrong."

Serena froze.

I glared at her: "What did you put in that soup you gave me last night? Do you think I don't know?"

"Enough!"

I was shoved hard, the small of my back slamming into the corner of the table.

Alessandro gritted his teeth at me: "Stop blaming everything on Serena. Haven't you framed her enough times already?"

Serena bit her lower lip, looking pitifully at me.

I pressed a hand to my aching back and suddenly found it laughable.

It was always like this. When Serena pushed me down the stairs, I was lying. When Serena "lost" the proposal herself, it was my trap. When Serena spiked my soup, I was slandering her.

Looking at this man I'd loved for seven years, I suddenly felt so tired.

"Don't worry. I'll never blame her again."

I opened the drawer and handed him the divorce papers:

"I'll only wish you both well."

Alessandro stiffened, his voice trembling as he looked at me:

"Valentina..."

"Heh."

A cold laugh. Serena's lips curled in disdain:

"Alessandro, what did I tell you? Sister's final move, after all her schemes fail, is always the divorce papers."

Alessandro's hand, reaching toward me, froze.

Serena looked at me:

"Sister, Alessandro is blinded by worry, so you can fool him. But I'm a woman too—I see right through you. You've got real skills. First, you kneel with that baby bump and play the victim. Then you abort the child and claim it 'couldn't be saved,' so Alessandro owes you a huge emotional debt. And finally, you have the divorce papers ready as a safety net."

"Honestly, Sister, that combo move—not many men can withstand it. Even if Alessandro actually divorces you, you'll still milk a fortune out of his guilt."

Alessandro's anxiety faded bit by bit, and his gaze at me grew colder by the second.

His voice turned sardonic:

"Fine. Divorce. But you won't get a single cent."

He snatched the papers and flipped to the asset division section—and froze.

There, I had waived all property rights, taking nothing.

Alessandro looked at me, surprised.

Even Serena frowned involuntarily:

"Alessandro, sign it."

Alessandro's brow tightened.

"Sister is counting on you to soften. If she voluntarily gives up everything, you'll end up giving her a huge sum out of guilt. Then she'll have her reputation and her money."

Serena shot me a cold look: "But someone who would use a child as leverage doesn't deserve either."

Alessandro gripped the pen tighter.

"Alessandro, only by signing will she realize this trick won't work. Then she'll never use it to hurt anyone again."

Alessandro laughed, a bitter edge to it.

"Valentina, I'm so disappointed in you."

He signed both copies quickly: "Since you offered to forfeit everything, so be it."

He tossed my copy back at me, as if searching my eyes for some reaction. When I just tucked it away without any particular response, his frown deepened with irritation.

He took Serena's hand and walked off without looking back.

That night, Serena's account blew up again.

"Look, everyone—this is a case of a woman trying to use divorce to trigger a man's guilt, but I saw through her."

On her page, our divorce agreement was blown up to full size.