It is said that every wife expects a gift or at least a surprise on their wedding anniversary. And so did Rhea.
"No matter what I do wrong, you'll forgive me… like you always do, right?" he asked, voice trembling with hope and fear.
Her husband, Damian, sat across the table, his eyes cold and unreadable as he stared at her.
"Okay?" The dim lights of the restaurant made the world blur and spin around her. She wondered if she was hearing things or if the man she loved had finally changed.
Her husband continued, "You know how much I've always wanted a baby. He'll be the heir to our company. But we've been trying for years… I even thought of giving up."
Rhea apologized softly as she placed the gift bag back on the table, the excitement slowly draining from her face. A strange uneasiness crept up her spine.
The moment he dropped the subject, she knew whatever was coming next wouldn't be pleasant.
She looked down to avoid his gaze, only to meet the sight of his thin lips pressed into a hard line.
When she was just twenty, her father had arranged her marriage to him ,Damian Westwood.
Back then, she knew she had to sacrifice her own happiness and treat the marriage like a business deal. But the moment she heard his name, she was utterly shocked. Damian Westwood wasn't just anyone he was the youngest heir to the powerful Westwood family, the heartthrob every girl in SunCity dreamed of marrying.
"Marry him, give him an heir, and our family's status will rise. We'll be protected, always," her father whispered as he walked her down the aisle.
And she had nodded. "I will."
After the wedding, Rhea did everything that was expected of her.
She became the admired, flawless Mrs. Westwood.
She solved problems in silence.
She stood by him, supported his ambitions, helped close business mergers, and connected him to the elite. She even kept his secrets.
Aside from being unable to bear a child, she had done more than what most women in high society could offer.
During those years, Damian would often complain about not having a child. But he never truly expressed dissatisfaction he needed her. For business deals, for appearances, for the smooth running of his empire. She was useful.
But today on their fifth wedding anniversary he brought it up again.
"Good news," he said with a cheerful smile, leaning back in his chair. "Your sister, Ariella, is pregnant."
She blinked, stunned.
Ariella? Her little sister had always been quiet, shy, never one to be seen with men. I thought Father would arrange her marriage like he did mine, she thought, her mind already spiraling.
She looked at Damian and forced a smile.
"I should be happy for her," she said. "After all, she's my little sister."
"That's great news."
Damian's next words came so casually, it made her stomach turn.
"The child she's carrying is mine."
He said it like he was commenting on the weather.
The words hit her like a bomb.
Her hands trembled. She couldn't breathe. Her ears rang with the echoes of betrayal.
It took her a few minutes to return to reality.
She sat there frozen, staring at nothing, the weight of his words sinking in like a slow, merciless tide.
Her world was crumbling.
He always said, "I'll forever be loyal to you."
And yet he had broken the very oath they made before God and countless witnesses. So easily. So shamelessly.
Why?
Why her sister?
When did this even happen?
A sharp pain shot through her chest, her throat tight with disbelief and rage. Her heart was racing, her thoughts a blur.
By the time she came to her senses, her keys were already in her hand.
The next thing she knew,
She was gripping the steering wheel, madly driving through the night toward Ariella's apartment.
An hour later, Rhea stood outside Ariella's apartment, her finger jamming the doorbell like a woman possessed. Her hands were trembling. Her lips, pale and quivering. She told herself over and over that it wasn't real—that any moment now she'd wake up, tucked safely under the covers, Damian's arm around her, whispering that everything was just a bad dream.
But it wasn't.
Reality was knocking harder than she ever did.
The door swung open.
Ariella stood there in a white bathrobe, water trickling down her collarbone, her damp blonde hair clinging to her skin. She had just stepped out of the shower, yet there was no panic in her eyes. In fact, she looked almost… prepared.
She didn't speak. She didn't flinch.
Instead, she gave her head a slow shake, sending droplets flying.
Some of them landed on Rhea's face, hitting her like tiny, bitter slaps.
"Why ,why did you decide to take everything away from me? Why you?" Rhea screamed.
Ariella didn't answer. Instead, she looked at her with a provoking expression, then glanced behind Rhea.
"Answer me!" Rhea demanded. "Do you know this is such a blow to me? A forever embarrassment!"
Ariella didn't move. Then, suddenly, she clutched her stomach. Someone ran up behind Rhea.
Ariella cried out, "Help! Help! She's trying to kill me and my baby!"
Rhea's eyes dropped, and she suddenly saw blood flowing down Ariella's leg.
"No!no, it's not me..." she muttered in shock.
But before she could react further, she was grabbed by two large men.
"No,no! Leave me! I'm Mrs. Westwood! You can't do this to me!" she cried.
But no one paid attention. Her ears were already full with the sound of a loud, pounding heartbeat.She was held down like a criminal.
She woke up again. The windowless room reminded her that she was in prison. The damp, rancid smell brought her back to reality.
She was still in that damn prison the one where the Westwood family executed their prisoners.
Yes, Ariella had miscarried and then blamed her. But she hadn't touched her at all.
She tried to explain herself, but Damian had locked her in.
"What are you screaming about?" the bald guard barked as he unlocked the ward and whipped her with his sjambok.
"You need to learn to be quiet," he said, landing another harsh blow.
"I want to see my husband, Damian and tell him I'm pregnant," she told the guard, gritting her teeth through the pain.
Just a few days ago, she had realized her period was delayed. So she bribed another guard to get her a testing kit and she found out she was pregnant.
The guard grinned. "Are you sure it's not mine?"
He squatted infront of her and gazed at her breast with a perverted look . "I've never tasted or enjoyed boss's wife. Is your wet garden salty too?"
She spat on his face in disgust. "Can you shut up? As Mrs. Westwood, I order you to tell Damian I need to see him!"
The guard wiped his face, but his hungry eyes continued to scan her body.
"There's no Mrs. Westwood here. Only a prisoner. And I think Mr. Westwood would've known that the female prisoners are ridden like horses. Do you think he'll believe the child in your belly is his?" the guard said as he laughed.
"How can you help me?" her voice softened. She had to rely on him to see her husband.
"You know what to do," the guard said as he unbuttoned his belt.
Then the phone rang,it was his.
He grunted and walked out of the cell, pulling his pants up. When he came back, his belt was already fastened, and he looked displeased that he'd been interrupted.
"Someone will see you in five minutes," he said, his voice high.