Chapter 3

A suffocating weight settled on my chest.

Years ago, Giselle loathed Jordan's dad for forcing her mom into a miserable marriage, while Jordan hated Giselle's mother for driving his own mom to suicide.

For a decade, they despised each other. But after they met me, their toxic rivalry strangely shifted into a competition over who could treat me better.

Eventually, real feelings developed between Jordan and me, and our families capitalized on it to finalize our marriage.

Ten years had passed in the blink of an eye. Being fiercely protected by both of them for so long had made me forget a fundamental truth: I was only ever a transactional tool for a family alliance.

I gave a bitter smile and quietly liked the comment.

Meeting them had likely consumed all the good luck I was allotted in this lifetime. I couldn't be greedy enough to expect a happy ending, too.

By the time I finished packing, it was well past midnight. I tucked the signed divorce agreement into my handbag and reached for my suitcase when my phone started to vibrate.

Jordan's urgent voice cut through the receiver. "Jane, make some chicken soup right now and bring it to the hospital. Hurry!"

The line went dead before I could say anything. When I tried calling back, no one was answering. Confused and too conditioned to obey, I quickly brewed the soup and rushed over to the medical wing.

Inside the private ward, Giselle was reclining against the pillows. She patted the mattress beside her, offering a lazy, enchanting smile. "You're here. Take a seat."

I hesitated, setting the thermos on the nightstand. "Are you sick? Where's Jordan?"

She took my hand and pressed it against her slightly rounded belly. "I'm not sick, Jane. I'm pregnant with Jordan's baby. He went to get the ultrasound report."

The news hit me like a physical blow. I flinched, ripping my hand back. "P-Pregnant?"

"Yep," Giselle replied, unbothered. "He said the condoms felt too tight and uncomfortable. It could have happened two months ago when he claimed he was working late, or maybe last month when he sent you out to buy cakes so we could use your bed.

She shrugged. "Honestly, we've done it so many times I've lost count."

My throat tightened. "But... we're supposed to be best friends."

She raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. Best friends share everything. Letting me enjoy your man is only fair, right? He says you're like a dead fish in bed anyway.

"I'm doing you a favor. Once I keep him satisfied, he won't go fooling around with strangers. Besides, aren't you terrified of labor pain?

"When the baby is born, they'll call you godmother. I'll even make sure they take care of you in your old age. Pretty generous, huh?"

Her words twisted like a knife. They reminded me of the night we turned 18 under a meteor shower, when she held my hand and swore that she would make me her child's godmother.

The promise had come true, but it was dripping in poison.

When I remained silent, she sighed. "You really are a hopeless dummy. Even now, you don't know how to fight back."

She unscrewed the thermos, casually ladled a bowl of the steaming soup, and brought it to her lips. I jolted and smacked the bowl out of her hand, sending it shattering on the floor.

I grabbed her jaw, desperately trying to force her mouth open. "Spit it out! Don't swallow it!"

A powerful grip suddenly yanked me backward by my collar. I lost my footing and crashed heavily onto the floor, my palm slamming into the jagged shards of broken ceramic.

I struggled to my feet and saw Jordan frantically rubbing Giselle's back.

He roared at me. "Jane, have you lost your mind? I asked you to bring her soup to help with her pregnancy. She's carrying my child! How could you maliciously attack her?"

"No, listen to me." I panicked, desperately trying to explain. "It's because..."

But I was too anxious, my words stumbling over each other as tears finally spilled over. Flustered, Jordan rushed over to wipe my tears, but his hand froze when he caught sight of my right palm.

It was shredded and dripping crimson onto the linoleum. His breath hitched. "How did you get hurt this badly? Come here, let me get that bandaged."

"Ouch! My belly!" Giselle suddenly shrieked from the bed, clutching her abdomen in agony. "It hurts so much! The baby!"

Jordan instantly dropped my bleeding hand, lunging for the emergency call button. In his frantic rush, his shoe kicked the overturned thermos, spilling the rest of the soup and the mushrooms across the floor.

A look of profound fury flashed in his eyes. He snapped, "You know Giselle is allergic to mushrooms! Why didn't you say anything?"