1
“Ma’am, Sir Brynn is eagerly awaiting your arrival here in Bonneville. Have you made your decision? If you agree to marry him, your identity will be erased. No one from here, not your family or your friends, will ever be able to find you again.”
Ayla Wynn rubbed her wrists. The burns were raw and bleeding from the rope that had bound them, but there was nothing more painful than the memory distracting her.
For a decade, she had been the happiest in Maine with Bennett Duffield, the man she had known that long and fallen in love with for five years.
Not once in her life had she ever imagined sharing that love with two strangers whose presences were another way of saying—she was not enough.
It all started a few years ago when Bennett returned from a business trip with a kid named Aston, the son of the person who had saved the tycoon’s life once.
Overwhelmed by gratitude, the CEO decided to repay the kindness by being the boy’s father figure.
To give Aston what he called a complete family, Bennett forced his own fiancée to endure miscarriage—eight times over the course of three years.
Even then, Aston never once saw Ayla as a mother figure. He only ever called one woman his mommy—Vayda Abshire, the one Bennett pretended to marry for the sake of the kid.
To keep that boy happy, Bennett even had Vayda move into the same master bedroom he slept with Ayla.
The fantasy almost cost Ayla’s life. Once, on a picnic trip, robbers ambushed their car. To distract the masked men, Bennett pushed her out of the car while he escaped with Vayda and Aston. He left Ayla behind to be stabbed—ninety-nine times.
And on what was supposed to be their wedding day, Aston pleaded, “Daddy, I don’t want anyone to replace Mommy!”
That was all it took for Bennett to tear off Ayla’s wedding gown, drag her to an abandoned warehouse, tie her to a post, and leave her there with the livestream of him kissing Vayda at the altar.
Ayla was three months pregnant then.
Recalling all that, she let out a painful laugh.
‘They’re my supposed-to-be husband’s real family now while I’m just… no one,’ she realized.
With that, she gripped her phone tighter and nodded. “There’s nothing left for me here.”
“Got it, ma’am,” Callan, the Raffertys’ most trusted man, replied. “The paperwork should be finalized within seven days. Everything’s been prepared for your wedding. Sir Brynn will be thrilled when he hears you agreed, ma’am.”
The last part piqued Ayla’s curiosity. “If I may ask, why me? He could marry anyone. No one even knows my family compared to his.”
——
Before Callan could explain, a question from another man cut in.
“Compared to whom?”
Behind Ayla, Bennett was still in his groom’s suit—the very one she had picked and tailored herself, back when she thought it would be her standing beside him at the altar.
She quickly pressed the end button, forcing a tight smile like she hadn’t just made the most pivotal decision of her life. “It’s nothing. You misheard.”
Bennett nodded just like that. He approached her to apologize, “Hey, what happened today… It was my fault. But please, just trust me. I promise, from now on, I’ll—”
“I trust you,” she said without meaning it.
Just like that, they went home together. As the car rolled to a stop in front of the villa, she spotted two figures from a distance—an adult woman and a kid, standing close together and giggling as they talked.
Anyone looking wouldn’t have guessed otherwise—they looked so much like they were mother and son by blood.
When Ayla reached for the car door handle, Bennett held her wrist.
“Love, the kid’s still shaken from earlier,” he said carefully, avoiding her gaze. “I’m afraid if he sees you now, it might scare him. Could you wait here outside for a bit?”
When she didn’t answer, she caught a trace of frustration between his brows. “You know Aston only trusts me and Vayda…” he reasoned.
She looked at him then, wondering, ‘Has he forgotten how he lifted me once into his arms and spun me around in joy after I agreed to be with him? Has he forgotten when he promised me a home?’
Those questions distracted her for a moment. By the time she snapped back to the present, Bennett was already walking away. He left her in the car, the cold wind biting at her skin through her thin clothes.
Silently, she watched him disappear inside the villa with Aston and Vayda, laughing hand in hand… like a perfect little family.
‘That’s supposed to be my home,’ she thought to herself, ‘so why? Why do I feel like I don’t belong here?’
She wanted to leave already. But there were still a few things inside she needed to do.
Hours stretched forever as she stayed there outside. It was already late at night, and still, she heard nothing from Bennett.
Eventually, she let herself in, and no one but the silence greeted her. In the dark, she crept up the stairs and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.
But even that was no longer hers; Vayda was lying there, cuddling Aston and gently humming a lullaby. Bennett was watching beside them.
The scene was so warm, so intimate—it burned Ayla’s eyes.
“Isn’t this supposed to be my room?” Ayla blurted out, nearly laughing in disbelief.
“Bennett…” Vayda turned to her “husband,” sinking in his arms. “She’s mad at me and Aston. Maybe I should move out with him…”
But the smirk she threw over her shoulder told Ayla Vayda never intended to go anywhere.
“Vayda’s exhausted from the wedding and still came back to look after Aston,” Bennett began. “Unlike you—who disappeared and came back late at night. You could show a little more thought.”
“Look, Aston’s still young. This room…” He pointed toward the window. “It gets great sunlight. It’s perfect for a kid’s room, wouldn’t you agree? Now, stop making a fuss over this.”
The next second, he caught sight of her red, tear-filled eyes, so he added casually, “Just bear with it, Ayla. Move to the storage room for now.”
Ayla’s fingernails dug deep into her palms, but she felt no pain—she was used to this.
In fact, before the Wynns gave her a comfortable life, she’d grown up in an orphanage—cramped, damp, cold. She had slept shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other orphans.
When Bennett had learned that, he’d chosen this sunlit room just for her. The crystal charm in the window, the pink plush toys, the soft lamp on the nightstand—they picked them out together.
“From now on, you’ll live a warm and happy life. I’ll replace your gloomy childhood with sunshine,” he promised once.
‘Now… he’s taking my sunshine away and giving it to someone else,’ Ayla thought bitterly.
Without arguing with him any longer, she gave Bennett a bitter smile and turned to go downstairs, reminding herself, ‘This is the 96th time.’
Back when Bennett was courting her, he had confessed ninety-nine times. On the day she agreed to be with him, she said, “If you disappoint me ninety-nine times, I’ll leave. No ifs. No buts.”
Hiding away in the cramped storage room, she took a photo of her ID and sent it to Callan. With that, she curled up in the dark and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
In her dreams, a hazy figure held her hand, running with her under the warm sun… until a chill jolted her awake.
She stood up abruptly and switched on the light, only to find herself drenched and the sheets soaked through.
“That’s what you get for bullying Mommy!” a small voice piper up from above.
Ayla looked up—just as another splash of cold water hit her in the face.
Wiping her face, she saw Aston standing by the window with an empty cup in his hand.
“When did I ever bully your mommy?” she asked, her voice edged with anger.
The boy just grinned and threw the cup. It hit her square on the forehead, and blood trickled down her brow.
The pain jolted her. She grabbed the boy’s wrist. “Who taught you to disrespect me like this, huh?”
“Let go of me! I hate you!” Aston screamed and bit her hard on the wrist.
Not expecting that, Ayla gasped and instinctively pushed the kid away.
He landed on the floor with a thud, clutching his ankle and bursting into tears.
Soon, the lights in the hallway snapped on one by one.
“What’s going on in here?” Bennett demanded.
Before she could defend herself, Aston beat her to it, sobbing loudly as he pointed at her. “Daddy! She hit me!”
Bennett stepped into the room, dressed in loungewear, his gold-rimmed glasses gleaming under the hall light.
Behind the lenses, his eyes could freeze.
2
“For god’s sake, Ayla!” Bennett yelled. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? How could you lay a hand on a child that small?”
“I-I didn’t…” she murmured, her voice trembling, her protest so faint it was barely there.
Hearing the commotion, Vayda came stumbling down the stairs. She practically tripped in her rush to get to the boy, scooping him into her arms the moment she reached him.
“Aston, what happened?” she asked, panic written all over her face. “Let Mommy see.”
The moment she noticed his swollen ankle, her eyes filled with tears and turned to Ayla. Her voice trembled as she muttered, “Ayla… I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your room. And I never should’ve said Aston only likes me and not you.”
She bent her knees, about to kneel in apology.
But Bennett reached out and stopped her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. What are you apologizing for?”
Ayla slowly turned to him. His expression was unreadable—complex and dark—but all the tenderness he once showed her had long vanished.
Vayda’s tone was firm when she spoke again. “Aston means everything to me. I won’t let anyone hurt him. If you can’t accept us, Ayla, then we’ll just leave.”
The more sincere she sounded, the heavier the guilt weighed on Bennett. His gaze flicked back and forth between the two women until his eyes finally settled on the wound on Ayla’s forehead.
For a brief moment, something close to regret flashed across his face—but it disappeared almost immediately.
“You’re an adult,” he said with a sigh. “Why stoop to a child’s level?”
Ayla stood there, soaked to the bone, her hair matted to her skin, her face pale and cold.
She looked absolutely wrecked.
Still, she lifted her chin stubbornly and met his gaze. “What if I said he fell on his own? Would you believe me?”
Bennett’s brows knitted in displeasure. “Come on, actions have consequences. Take responsibility for what you’ve done.”
Then he turned to his men. “Take her to the basement. Don’t let her out until she realizes her mistake.”
But Ayla didn’t move. She just stared at him and said quietly, “Bennett… that makes ninety-seven times.”
He paused, caught off guard. “Ninety-seven?”
But before she could explain, Aston burst into tears.
Bennett didn’t spare her another glance. With a simple wave of his hand, he signaled his men to drag her away.
She wanted to ask him why—why he always chose someone else over her, why it was always her who had to endure.
But in the end, she said nothing. She was too afraid. Not of him but of the dark.
And Bennett knew that.
He knew about how the orphanage traumatized her, how the staff used to punish her by locking her in tiny cupboards, how the darkness had left her terrified ever since.
He knew it all.
Back then, he had pulled her into his arms, gently whispering promises.
“Nothing like that would ever happen again. As long as you’re with me, you’ll never be in the dark. I will always be your light.”
She scoffed inwardly. ‘Joke’s on me, those promises are nothing but words now.’
She knew—there was no going back anymore.
In the days that followed, Bennett never once came to see her in the basement.
Whether it was on Vayda’s orders or not, even the maids and the security stopped treating her like a human being. They cut her meals down from three a day to barely a sip of water.
Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, as if filled with lead. Every blink dragged like slow motion, and with each passing hour, the world seemed to grow dimmer.
In those hours, there was only one hope—the Raffertys. She wanted to call Callan and ask for some updates, but the basement had no signal. Her phone had long since died and shut off.
Eventually, her body couldn’t take it anymore—and she passed out.
When she came to, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled her nose. Her vision blurred as she stared blankly at the ceiling.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed hers where there was no IV.
“Oh, thank God,” Bennett murmured, pulling her hand to his cheek. “Love, you’re awake. You’re finally awake!”
His voice trembled with relief, as if he’d been holding it in for days.
From the moment she collapsed, he had been so scared he might lose her, he stayed at her side, not leaving even once. Not even to sleep.
Seeing her expression so calm and distant, he hesitated as if he knew what she was thinking.
“I.. I know everything now,” he said gently. “Everything Vayda did.”
Ayla turned her face slightly toward him. A faint, sarcastic smile tugged at her lips. “So what do you plan to do about it? Mistakes come with punishment, right?”
“Vayda only did it for Aston,” he answered, his tone light. “I already spoke to her. She promised it won’t happen again.”
Ayla let out a dry, hollow laugh, but there was no amusement in it. “So I ended up in the hospital… all because of her good intentions?”
Bennett faltered for a moment.
“I know you’ve been wronged,” he said soothingly. “But… you still owe her an apology. If not for her, Aston wouldn’t be such a well-behaved child.”
Those words hit her like ice water to the face.
She began to tremble in rage, barely managing to keep her voice from breaking. “So you’re saying… after everything she’s done to me, I’m the one who needs to apologize?”
There was a sharp edge in her voice now, laced with disbelief—like she had just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world.
Seeing her whole body shaking, Bennett didn’t dare push further. Instead, he gently pulled her into his arms, trying to calm her.
But to Ayla, the whole thing felt absurd.
That sentence echoed over and over in her mind.
‘I didn’t—I didn’t do anything wrong! So why the hell do I have to apologize?!’
Perhaps worried she might harm herself, Bennett stayed in the hospital, personally taking care of her.
He made her some comforting soup, fed her spoon by spoon, brought her water, stood guard at the bathroom door while she bathed. He insisted on doing everything himself, down to the smallest detail.
Every time a nurse walked by and saw how “devoted” he was, they’d sigh with admiration at how in love they seemed.
If he gave that kind of devotion years ago, Ayla would have blushed and smiled behind her hand. He would’ve teased her for it, and she would’ve quietly enjoyed it.
But now, all she felt was emptiness.
She didn’t want to talk to Bennett anymore, so she picked up her phone instead.
There were dozens of unread messages, over thirty of them from the same unknown number.
[Baby, you’re really going to marry me? You have no idea how you made me so happy!]
[I’ve wired a million to your account. Treat yourself to a spa or something, okay?]
[I haven’t heard from you for days now. Everything alright there, baby?]
[Don’t scare me. I can’t wait seven days. I’m coming to get you myself.]
There was also one from Callan.
[Ma’am, Sir Brynn is losing his mind. He’s already on his way to find you.]
Seeing her glued to her phone, Bennett assumed she was still upset.
He leaned in slightly, trying to coax her. “Still mad?” he asked gently. “Aston’s still young. His father helped me a lot… and he only really trusts Vayda. Can’t you just hold on a little long—”
Before he could finish, his eyes happened to catch a glimpse of her screen.
“Ayla,” he said sharply, “who’s coming to see you?”
Before she could answer, his own phone rang.
One glance at it and he was on his feet, grabbing his coat. “Something urgent came up at the company. I have to go. I’ll come pick you up later,” he said in one breath.
And with that—the only devoted family of the patient rushed out, leaving her alone inside.
3
Bennett said he’d come pick her up.
But in the end, Ayla completed the discharge procedures by herself.
From sunrise to sunset, she waited at the hospital—until, finally, her phone lit up with a message.
She tapped it open, only to be met with a cold line she should’ve expected.
[Hey. Vayda’s sick. She needs someone to look after her. Come back by yourself.]
‘Right. What’s I even expecting at this point?’ She laughed at herself bitterly. ‘This has to be the 98th time he disappointed me.’
What made her scoff even more was the timing—no cabs were available to book that rainy night. She ended up walking alone through the streets of Lewiston, drenched from head to toe.
As the rain blurred her vision, memories of the Bennett she used to know poured into her head.
‘He used to show up with an umbrella after class on rainy days…’ she recalled. ‘But that version of him… died the day Aston came into the picture.’
By the time she finally reached the villa, the main gate was already locked.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Bennett’s number anyway.
But the voice that answered wasn’t his.
It was Vayda’s—breathy, slow, and unmistakably seductive.
“Baby… mm… slower…”
Where Ayla stood, her heart dropped, her entire body stiff with shock.
She clenched the phone and shouted, “CHEAP WOMAN! What are you two doing?!”
She had already decided to leave him. She had already made that choice.
But hearing their betrayal with her own ears still left a sickening ache in her chest.
Then came the click of the line going dead.
Her fingers went slack. The phone slipped from her grip and hit the concrete. Ayla followed, crumpling onto the wet pavement like her body had simply given up.
Rain continued to pour in sheets, soaking her hair, her clothes, her bones—mourning with her, it seemed.
After a while, she dragged herself upright and stood beneath the villa’s second-story window. Through the faint glow of light behind the glass, she saw them—two figures, entwined in each other’s arms.
She didn’t need to guess who they were.
Moments later, she spotted Bennett—this time standing beside Vayda, gently drying her hair with a blow dryer. His hands moved with a care and tenderness Ayla hadn’t seen in years.
And then, like a wound being reopened, a memory surfaced.
It was a picture of a teenage guy, who used to run at the sound of her voice. He once stood behind her and grinned, declaring, “From now on, I’ll be the one to protect Ayla’s hair.”
That broken promise blurred Ayla’s vision with tears.
But before everything went black, she saw someone sprinting toward her.
“Ayla! You’re back just in time. Vayda isn’t feeling well, and Aston wants milk. Go make it for him,” a voice called out casually, like she was just a maid returning from errands.
She wanted to say no. She almost did.
But then she remembered—last time, all she’d done was refuse to let Vayda sit in the front seat. For that alone, Bennett had tossed Ayla out of the car and made her walk home through the night.
Terrified that another punishment was waiting, she obeyed like a servant. Despite the dark spots dancing in her vision and the nausea rising like bile, she steadied herself, made the milk—and collapsed to the floor the moment she finished.
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself lying in bed, burning with fever. Shivers wracked her limbs, her skin hot and clammy.
Suddenly, loud, feral barking outside jolted her fully awake.
She bolted upright, every nerve snapping her fully awake, and rushed down the stairs.
What she saw next made her blood run cold.
The stray dog she and Bennett had once rescued together and raised as family was now tied up at the front gate, twitching violently as Aston whipped it again and again.
Beside him stood Vayda, clapping and cheering like the cruelty entertained her.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” Ayla yelled, shoving the boy aside and scooping the wounded dog into her arms.
Suddenly, Aston’s face twisted in fury. He raised the whip higher, his small hands shaking with rage.
“Move! You made me milk from that thing! I’m gonna kill that monster!”
Panic surged through her. She tried to shield the dog, flailing to protect it. In the chaos, her elbow accidentally struck Vayda, who stumbled back with a gasp.
That one motion was enough to flip a switch in Aston.
His face contorted, his eyes wild. Without hesitation, he raised the whip again—this time aiming it at Ayla.
She tried to dodge, but the blow landed anyway, slashing across her arm. The fiery sting tore through her fevered body.
Behind her, the dog howled. Its eyes flashed with something feral and protective. Then, with a violent jolt, it broke free from its restraints and lunged straight at Aston.
“No—!” Ayla cried out, trying to stop it. But it was too late.
With a sickening crunch, the dog sank its teeth into Aston’s hand. The boy let out a shrill, agonized scream as blood gushed down his arm.
Just then, the front door slammed open.
Bennett stormed in, his eyes blazing at the sight of the dog clamped onto Aston’s hand, his ears hearing the boy wailing.
Bennett quickly kicked the dog away, sending it sprawling.
“Aston!” Vayda shrieked, rushing over. While inspecting his wound, she whirled around and pointed at Ayla.
“Ayla! If you hate me, take it out on me! Even if Aston isn’t your biological child, you can’t do this to him! First, you gave him dog milk—and now, you let that monster attack him!”
Bennett’s expression darkened at what he’d just heard.
“What?! Ayla! You’re risking Aston’s life?!”
Ayla stared at the two of them in a daze. Two words echoed in her head like a curse.
‘Dog milk?’
Before she could say a word, Vayda shoved her to the ground.
“Aston drank the milk you made, and now his tummy hurts! You can’t deny it! You let that dog attack him! We all saw it!”
When she turned to Bennett, Vayda’s voice broke into sobs while tears streamed down her cheeks. “Bennett, please… let us go. I can’t take this anymore! I can’t let Ayla hurt Aston again! Please…”
Bennett helped her up gently and wrapped her in his arms, his anger melting into concern.
“Don’t be scared, Vayda. Aston will be okay. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Then, turning to Ayla, his voice hardened with accusation. “Ayla. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
Ayla stared at him blankly. Her voice came out hoarse, full of disbelief. “You don’t… You don’t believe me?”
Bennett nodded toward a medical report on the table. “The lab reports have confirmed it. Who do you think you’re fooling?”
“You really think I did that?” she asked, crawling forward and trying to clutch at his pant leg—but he stepped back, letting her fall.
“That’s enough, Ayla!” he snapped, raising his hand to signal his men. “I never thought you’d stoop this low. I can’t believe you really did such a dangerous thing just to get my attention!”
‘Dangerous?’
Something inside her broke at the realization that she could explain herself over and over, but he would never believe her.
“If you really don’t believe me,” she said, her voice trembling, “then I have nothing more to say.”
Her lips curled into a bitter, exhausted smile. “Why would I hurt that kid on purpose?” she muttered to herself. “What would I even gain from that?”
“Gain?” Bennett scoffed. “With Aston sick, you could get the chance to take Vayda out of the picture. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, Ayla?”
4
The words landed like a knife to Ayla’s chest—sharp, brutal, and utterly unforgiving.
She stumbled back a step, staring at the man she had loved for more than ten years, her voice trembling with disbelief.
“Bennett… You actually think of me like that?”
She could no longer take it; tears finally burst from her eyes, spilling freely down her cheeks.
Only then did she realize—in Bennett’s eyes, this was the kind of woman he believed she was.
Behind him, Vayda stood silently, but a faint, almost invisible smile curved her lips.
Then, right on cue, she spoke up, her tone gentle on the surface yet laced with a quiet condescension. “Bennett, don’t be too upset. Maybe Ayla just can’t stand me. Who knows? If I left, maybe Aston wouldn’t have to suffer so much either.”
Bennett’s throat bobbed. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with the weight of his words.
“Ayla,” he finally said, his voice low, “I know you’re still holding a grudge. I’ve been planning a new wedding to make it up to you… But what you did today—you’ve really let me down.”
He paused, his jaw tightening. “This time, I have no choice. You need to learn a lesson.”
He turned coldly to the men standing behind him. “Take her to the sauna. No one opens that door without my permission. And have the dog put down.”
“No!” Ayla dropped to her knees with a thud, her hands clutching his trousers in desperation. “Don’t euthanize him! I’ll do anything, just let him live! Please, Bennett, I’m begging you!”
But he looked down at her with indifference, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of emotion.
“He’s just a dog. If I say kill him, he’ll have to die.”
She stared up at his face blankly. As she turned to the poor dog and felt as though her heart had been torn open and left to bleed.
‘Gizmo… We raised him together before. To me, he’s become family. And Bennett—he cared for him for years too. There’s no way he doesn’t understand how deep that bond ran!’
“Gizmo attacked Aston,” he stressed. “That dog has to face the consequences.”
Bennett met Ayla’s gaze, unwavering. “I know you blame Aston for ruining the wedding, but you can’t take revenge on her like this.”
“Gizmo’s just a dog,” he repeated. “I’d known he would turn out to be this disobedient. I never would’ve brought him home in the first place.”
At that, Ayla felt as though she’d been plunged into ice water.
For a split second, she couldn’t even tell—was he still talking about the dog, or was he talking about her?
He didn’t remember how it had been that dog barking in the night that alerted them when he had a fever and collapsed.
Nor did he remember how, when an enemy showed up at their door, it was Gizmo that threw himself in front of her and saved her life.
Now, all of that meant nothing. In Bennett’s eyes, the dog had become nothing more than danger and nuisance.
Perhaps it was something in her eyes—a grief too raw to hide—that gave him pause. For a fleeting moment, a complicated emotion flickered through his expression.
But it was gone in an instant.
With a simple wave of his hand, two burly men stepped forward. One took Ayla’s left arm, the other her right, each gripping her tightly.
“No! Please! Don’t do this! Let go of me! Bennett!” she cried out, struggling against them.
But her protests fell on deaf ears. They dragged her down the hallway as she thrashed and kicked, her voice growing fainter with each step.
Just before she vanished from sight, she caught one last glimpse of Vayda.
She stood still, her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, and her eyes sparkled with quiet triumph.
Following Bennett’s order, the two men threw Ayla into the sauna and slammed the door shut behind her. She heard the click of the lock, then silence as they walked away.
The air inside hit her like a wall—the temperature had been turned to its maximum. The heat pressed in from all sides, thick and stifling, choking the air from her lungs.
She pounded on the heavy wooden door with both fists, shouting hoarsely. ‘Help! Somebody help me! Please!”
But the only response she got was brutal silence and the realization that no one cared if she lived or died.
In Bennett’s world, only Vayda and Aston mattered.
The truth had been there all along, plain for anyone to see. But she ignored it—again and again.
Soon, sweat soaked through her clothes. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, her back pressed against the scorching wooden wall. Yet even then, she felt no pain.
The cold inside her heart was far more unbearable than the blistering heat around her… even when the temperature continued to rise.
Each breath became harder than the last. Her vision began to blur, and her thoughts turned foggy.
Suddenly, a stabbing pain tore through her lower abdomen.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to call out toward the door once more.
At last, one of the security replied, though reluctantly.
“Ma’am… Sir Bennett took Ma’am Vayda and Sir Aston to the amusement park. Without his orders, we can’t let you out.”
With those words, despair crashed down on Ayla.
Slowly, she closed her eyes.
“Bennett…” she whispered. “That makes ninety-nine. I’ve repaid every bit of love you ever gave me. From now on… we owe each other… nothing.”
Her voice faded to a whisper. Then—nothing at all.
Her mind drifted, and her memories spilled forth like an old film reel playing behind her eyes.
She was ten, the day they first met. He had given her a thousand paper cranes he’d folded for his mother, a silly grin lighting up his childish face.
She was eighteen, walking home alone after a party when she was kidnapped. He’d searched for her through the night, finally holding her in his arms, sobbing as he slid a ring—his family’s symbol—onto her finger.
She was twenty-two when he proposed. After she said yes, he let tears stream down his face. Even now, people still teased him for crying like a baby.
‘But that Bennett I loved… He… He’s gone.’
That was her last thought before her vision dimmed.
But just before everything went black, she saw someone—blurry, indistinct—running toward her.
And then, her head dropped to her side. And then, darkness took her.
5
When Ayla opened her eyes again, she was lying in a hospital bed.
A man sat at her side, silently keeping watch. She blinked a few times, trying to recognize him—but her mind came up empty.
“Baby,” he said gently, voice tight with emotion, “you’ve been through so much. It kills me to see you like this. How could they do this to you? This is my fault… I got here too late.”
Just then, the doctor entered, his expression grim. “Sir, we did everything we could. But the patient’s body was already weak, and the trauma she endured was extensive. By the time she arrived…” He hesitated. “The baby was already gone.”
Ayla’s hand moved instinctively to her stomach.
‘That tiny life—barely beginning—was gone before it ever had a chance to exist.’
The doctor left, saying Ayla had to stay in the hospital for another two days. During that time, Brynn Rafferty never once left her side. He was there through every quiet hour, every restless moment, tending to her with a steady, wordless care.
But on the third day, he finally spoke of his need to return to Bonneville. Urgent matters were waiting for him back home.
Before leaving, he gently took her hand. “You promised me you’d come back with me. Once you’ve handled everything here… call me, alright? I’ll be waiting.”
Not long after he left, another visitor appeared at her door—Bennett.
He stepped into the room, guilt written all over his face. “Hey… I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I forgot you were pregnant that day. I was just so focused on Aston. I should’ve protected you—protected our child. It’s my fault.”
He moved to sit beside her, lowering his voice. “But… what’s done is done. We’re still young. We can have another baby, right? Aston’s still little. He needs all our love. He needs a complete family.”
Ayla let out a cold, self-mocking laugh.
‘Of course. One child—Aston—is enough for him. Why did it take me so long to see it?’
Her mind drifted back to her last miscarriage, a memory she had buried deep. At the time, she’d dismissed what she heard as a fevered hallucination—an illusion brought on by pain and blood loss.
But now, the truth was horrifyingly clear.
That day, Aston had spilled oil on the stairs. She’d slipped—tumbled down from the third floor. In the blur of agony, she’d vaguely heard the doctor speaking over the phone.
In a haze of pain, she had vaguely heard the doctor speak carefully into the phone. “Sir, she suffered emotional trauma and is showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. We can…”
“Let it happen,” Bennett cut in, his voice unmistakable through the speaker.
The doctor hesitated. “She is already physically fragile, sir. If she loses her baby this time, future pregnancies may be extremely difficult.”
There was a pause. Then Bennett gave his answer, certain and final.
“One child is enough. I have Aston. As for Ayla… I believe she’ll understand.”
Even now, the memory cut like a blade. She could still feel the sting of the surgical instruments, the sharp, twisting pain in her abdomen—the brutal moment when life was torn from her body.
Beside her, Bennett gently reached for her hand. “Ayla, I know I made a terrible mistake. But once you’re better, we can try again. We’ll have a child of our own—”
“Bennett,” she interrupted, her voice flat and hollow. “You should go.”
He paused, uncertain. “Ayla, I know you’re hurting, but—”
“I said enough.” Her voice turned cold, slicing through his words like ice. There was no room left for discussion.
‘Why is he still here,’ she thought bitterly, ‘pretending to care?’
Before he could say another word, the door swung open.
Vayda stepped inside, her voice bright and breezy. “Bennett! Aston just woke up—he’s crying and calling for you!”
Then her gaze fell on Ayla. Her expression faltered, softening into a mask of concern. “Oh… what happened to her? Anyway, since you’re busy, I’ll go explain things to Aston.”
Bennett froze, caught between the two women.
A long, awkward silence stretched between them—until at last, he stood up.
Turning to Ayla, Bennett spoke gently, almost pleading. “Ayla, Aston needs me right now… Wait for me here, okay? Just a little while.”
But the moment he walked out, Ayla quietly requested her discharge papers.
Shortly after, a message came in from Brynn—her identity nullification had been successfully processed.
‘It’s time to leave.’
As she passed by one particular hospital room on her way out, laughter spilled from behind the closed door—cheerful, familiar, and sweet. Bennett’s voice. Vayda’s laughter. Aston’s giggles.
‘A happy family,’ she thought. ‘That kind of warmth… It’s been so long since I felt anything like that.’
Back at the villa, she packed with determination. The gifts Bennett had given her over the years—some extravagant, others simple and thoughtful—were all tucked away in storage boxes and left in the basement.
She didn’t take a single one with her.
As she folded the last of her clothes into a suitcase, her phone buzzed again.
It was a message from Vayda.
Attached was a photo—a polished, beaming family portrait of the three of them: Vayda, Bennett, and Aston, all smiling under perfect light.
A voice message followed. It was the photographer gushing about how perfect they looked together.
Ayla scrolled through it all lazily. Next, she blocked both Vayda and Bennett.
But she wasn’t leaving quietly. She carefully prepared three gifts—her final acts of love to Bennett.
Fifteen years—that’s how long she had known him.
‘It’s time to end it,’ she decided.
Outside, the honk of a car broke the stillness.
For the last time, she glanced around the house she’d called home for over a decade.
With her suitcase rolling behind her, she stepped through the door.
As the car pulled away, the villa slowly vanished from sight, swallowed by distance. Leanin lightly against the window, Ayla let the breeze graze her face, breathing in the unfamiliar calm that settled over her.
‘From this moment on,’ she promised herself, ‘no matter how high the mountains or how long the road, I’ll keep moving forward—for me. From now on… I don’t know any man named Bennett.’
