Chapter 2 : Secret Behind Selene's Miscariage

Damian's expression shifted drastically the moment those words left Selene's lips—words that humiliated him in front of the doctor and the servants. The room suddenly became silent; the doctor stopped rolling the bandages, the servants held their collective breath, and even the ticking of the clock seemed muffled by the sudden tension.

Damian glared at his wife, his eyes smoldering with anger. His usually composed, icy face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. His voice caught in his throat as he stammered, "You… what?" before his confusion sharpened into a sneer.

Selene met his gaze head-on, her voice calm yet unwavering. "Let's get a divorce."

The word hit like a slap on his face. Everyone in the room was stunned. Damian stood paralyzed for a moment, as if unable to believe that the woman who had always seemed so desperately in love with him could suddenly speak such cold, cruel words.

He let out a cynical smirk. "Stop joking, Selene. This isn't funny."

But Selene did not back down. Within her chest burned a fire that could no longer be extinguished—it wasn't mere momentary anger, but a liberation woven from two years of a life that had felt like a slow death. She knew Damian's indifferent gaze; she acknowledged the rumors that would soon circulate through the estate; she even could imagine the face of the woman who would eventually dismantle her marriage. She had lived through it all in her past life; this time, she chose not to remain silent.

Though her body was still frail from the miscarriage, she forced herself to sit up straight.

The doctor hesitated, whispering, "Ma'am, please be careful. You've only just suffered a miscarriage." Selene looked at him coldly, already prepared for the inevitable attack—the narrative that her womb was 'faulty.'

"I know," she replied flatly. Then, turning back to Damian, she added, "There is nothing worth keeping a wife who cannot give you an heir. Divorce me. Now."

Damian stiffened. A flicker of something crossed his eyes—perhaps guilt, perhaps irritation—but he quickly masked it with mockery.

"Seems it isn't just your womb that is failing you, but your brain as well." The words were a jagged blade. Several servants covered their mouths in shock; to Selene, the insult wasn't new, yet it still stung.

"I order you to examine her thoroughly," Damian said coldly to the doctor. "Then, lock her in. I don't want her spiraling into madness over a miscarriage."

Selene clenched her fists, fighting to restrain herself. "Damian, I am serious!" she cried out.

Damian bellowed back, "You are insane, Selene!" The sound of his voice echoed into every corner of the room, freezing everyone in their tracks.

Whispers broke out among the staff—some were filled with pity, some with disbelief, and some with a secret, twisted satisfaction. Damian signaled for everyone to leave.

"Rest. You need to recover," he said, adding with a cynical edge, "You aren't the only one grieving. So am I." To Selene, it was just another lie.

Alone in the room after dismissing her two loyal maids, Selene watched from the window as the Leventis's carriage departed—Damian was heading to Vivian Moreau.

The name was a thorn in Selene's heart. Vivian was her cousin who had fled before the wedding, only to return and reclaim what she believed was hers. The memories from two years back resurfaced with terrifying clarity—the night when a weak and grieving Selene had overheard Damian speaking in his study.

"I've done it again. She miscarried." His voice had been flat, clinical. As if he were discussing a piece of broken machinery. Then, a soft laugh followed.

A woman's voice. It was Vivian. "You're truly heartless, Damian. But it was the right choice. Just imagine if Selene actually managed to give birth to your child. You would be tied to her forever."

Damian had sighed. "I never loved her. From the beginning, I only wanted you. Selene was merely a replacement—an obligation because you ran away before the wedding."

Selene's heart had stopped for a moment that night.

Vivian giggled, her tone playful. "Are you still angry about that? I came back to you in the end, didn't I?"

"Yes," Damian replied quickly, almost impatiently. "You came back, and that's enough. Selene means nothing to me. As long as she is by my side, I will ensure she never gives me an heir. I don't want a single trace of her in my bloodline."

The tears had streamed down her face that night, hot and agonizing. Selene had clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Since that night, she had known her suffering wasn't fate. Every miscarriage had been Damian's doing.

Back then, she cried until she couldn't breathe. Now, those tears had run dry. All that remained was a burning fire in her chest, revenge, resolve, and a chilling hatred. Selene closed her eyes, feeling the surge of emotion. Then, in a voice soft but certain, she whispered to herself, "Never again. I won't be that same foolish woman. I will destroy all of this before they have the chance to destroy me."