Chapter 1

Julia loved Francis. They had been in love for six years and married for one. She had given him the best years of her youth.

After their marriage, Julia worked three jobs a day to save money. She and Francis lived in a small rental house, struggling to make ends meet.

Unexpectedly, during their first year of marriage, Francis was diagnosed with uremia. To save him, Julia donated her left kidney without hesitation.

But while lying on the hospital bed, she overheard a conversation between Francis and his friend. His friend spoke in French, unaware that Julia understood the language.

"Francis, how long do you plan to hide the fact that you're the CEO of Pendleton Co.’s son? And if Julia finds out you lied about having uremia just to save Valerie, she will definitely divorce you!"

Julia's heart pounded. She turned to Francis, hoping for a denial. But instead, he looked at her with an affectionate gaze, which now felt more like a cruel mockery to her.

Then, his next words shattered her completely.

"We were never truly married. The marriage certificate I gave her was fake."

Julia had spent her life in loneliness, believing she had finally found love. But she never realized that everything had been a carefully planned trap, which was set up by Francis, all in the name of so-called atonement.

——

"Julia, are you sure you want to join the Ancient Roman Empire Archaeology Project? It’s 2,000 kilometers away from the UK, in a remote location. You could be gone for ten, maybe even eight years."

"You’ve only been married for less than a year. Will your husband agree?"

The professor's voice held hesitation and concern as he studied her expression.

But Julia had already made up her mind. Without hesitation, she nodded.

"Yes."

"Besides, he and I were never truly husband and wife."

Seeing her determination, the professor sighed softly and handed her a confidentiality agreement.

"Julia, you’re an excellent student. When your mother joined this project, she was just as determined. You remind me a lot of her."

Julia signed her name, each stroke firm and deliberate. The sound of the pen against the paper felt sharp, almost piercing. Yet, as she finished, a flicker of regret crossed her eyes.

She was nothing like her mother.

At least, her mother had never been deceived by a man who tricked her for seven years.

She had lost count of how many nights Francis had left the hospital ward while she was asleep.

The night she discovered the truth, Julia followed him to the VIP ward on the top floor.

Maybe he had been in a hurry—he had forgotten to close the door.

Through the small opening, she saw Valerie resting comfortably in Francis’ arms, her expression shy yet content.

Valerie. The so-called childhood sweetheart he had often mentioned. The woman he had supposedly grown up with.

Even with others present in the room, Francis didn’t bother to hide his affection. His gaze toward Valerie was soft, filled with warmth.

So Valerie was the one he truly loved.

"Thank you, Francis, for booking such a luxurious VIP ward for me," Valerie said sweetly.

Her room had the best medical equipment and an elite nursing team.

Julia, on the other hand, had been placed in an ordinary ward. It was just one of many in the hospital.

Francis had always told her they were struggling financially, that he only made a few thousand pounds a month. How could he possibly afford a VIP ward that cost 10,000 pound per night?

She had tried to ignore it, telling herself it was just a coincidence.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

Francis wasn’t poor. He simply didn’t want to spend money on her.

Lying in her ordinary hospital bed, Julia stared at the mold on the ceiling, her heart hollow.

Then, she overheard a hushed conversation between Francis and his friend, Henry.

"Francis, you’re incredible!" Henry whispered in French, thinking she wouldn’t understand.

"You booked a VIP ward for Valerie but left your wife in an ordinary one. How long are you planning to keep your identity as the heir of Pendleton Co. a secret from Julia?"

Francis remained silent, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Julia.

"And if Julia finds out that you lied about having uremia that she actually donated her kidney to save Valerie, she’ll definitely divorce you!"

Then came the words that shattered everything.

"We were never married. The marriage certificate I gave her was fake."

His voice was cold, sharper than any blade, cutting straight through her heart.

"Francis, you’re heartless!" Henry spat.

"So everything was for Valerie?"

Francis’ silence was his answer.

Julia felt the world tilt around her. Summoning the last of her strength, she gripped his hand, her voice shaking.

"Francis … what are you saying?"

She wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard.

But the truth was, she had spent years working tirelessly to support them, even teaching herself French to take on more jobs. She understood every single word.

She looked into his deep, unreadable eyes. For a brief second, panic flickered in them.

Henry, sensing the tension, quickly tugged on Francis’ sleeve.

"Julia doesn’t understand what we’re saying, right?"

Francis didn’t rush to respond. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry, dear," he murmured.

"We were just talking about work. I have a business trip to France next month, so I must’ve slipped into French."

He held her hand tightly, looking at her with the same affectionate gaze he had always given her.

But Julia no longer felt moved.

She only felt disgusted.

His love had never belonged to her.

Chapter 2

Julia's heart ached, but so did the jagged scar on her waist, which became a reminder of the kidney she had given to Francis.

As someone prone to scarring, her recovery had been far more difficult than most. The doctor had repeatedly warned her to use imported ointments to prevent permanent marks. But after paying for Francis' hospitalization, her savings were nearly gone.

Now, she had no choice but to return to work, earning enough to afford the medicine that might erase the physical proof of her sacrifice.

She thought back to those grueling years, studying tirelessly by day and juggling three jobs at night just to pay her tuition. She had endured worse. This was nothing.

To earn money faster, Julia took on night shifts with higher wages. Taking orders, serving drinks, cleaning tables. She repeated these mindless tasks, ignoring the fact that she was still recovering.

"Miss, bring us some drinks!"

The customer's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Julia straightened, pushing past her exhaustion, and turned around.

"Of course. What would you like?"

As she leaned down to take their order, her eyes locked onto a familiar gaze.

Francis.

The man who had once been her entire world now looked at her with barely concealed panic.

The moment their eyes met, he stood abruptly, gripping his whiskey glass so tightly that the amber liquid trembled. His lips parted, fumbling for an excuse.

But Julia remained silent, waiting.

She already knew the truth.

Her gaze flickered down to his clothes—his expensive coat alone was worth more than the medicine she struggled to afford.

"Julia… why are you here?" he finally asked, attempting to sound concerned.

But the unease in his expression made his words feel hollow.

"I'm working. Earning money for my medicine. Any problem with that?"

She ignored him and turned her attention to the group behind him.

Dressed in designer brands, they reeked of wealth. They were so different from her worn-out, secondhand outfit. A stark contrast.

Empty wine bottles littered the table, their price tags still attached. A single bottle cost as much as three nights of her salary.

And then, Julia saw her.

Valerie.

The woman who had once been her friend. The same woman she had seen in the VIP hospital suite, nestled in Francis’ arms.

Francis panicked. He grabbed the menu and pulled Julia aside, lowering his voice.

"Julia, you don’t have to do this. I’ll give you the money for your medicine. Just rest at home-"

She cut him off with a bitter smile.

"It’s fine. You told me last time that there was no money left in the account, remember? Besides, the medicine isn’t cheap. It costs tens of thousands of pounds per bottle."

That amount was nothing to Francis.

Julia watched as he struggled to come up with an excuse.

"I… I can borrow from my friends!"

Laughter erupted behind them.

"Francis, what’s taking so long? We’re still waiting for our drinks!"

Julia’s gaze flickered back to Francis, his face flushed from alcohol. She tilted her head, pretending to be concerned.

"But Francis, don’t you have uremia? Should you really be drinking?"

The color drained from his face.

Before he could respond, Valerie stepped forward.

She glanced at Julia, and for a brief moment, the arrogance in her eyes disappeared, replaced by an expression of forced politeness.

"Oh, Julia, I didn’t recognize you earlier," she said sweetly.

"Come have a drink with us!"

Julia took a step back, dodging Valerie’s outstretched hand.

"No, I have work to do."

She turned and walked away, ignoring Francis as he called after her.

Back in the kitchen, she stared at her reflection in the stainless steel sink.

A pale, exhausted face. A worn-out shirt. Cheap shoes she had bought online.

Aside from a degree from a prestigious university, what did she have?

What had ever made her think she was worthy of a man like Francis?

Chapter 3

Everyone around Francis seemed to be playing a role in his carefully constructed life.

Including his childhood sweetheart, Valerie.

When Julia first started dating Francis, Valerie had rushed to befriend her. At the time, Julia couldn’t understand why a wealthy socialite would bother with an orphan like her.

Later, Francis explained that Valerie had been his childhood friend—practically family. It was only natural for her to befriend Julia, he had said.

At the time, Valerie had a boyfriend who was a notorious gangster who had been in and out of prison. Despite her privileged upbringing, she loved him obsessively, even severing ties with her family when they cut off her allowance.

From then on, Francis had been the one supporting her. He paid for her expenses, bought her a single-family villa, and ensured she lived in comfort.

Meanwhile, Julia and Francis were crammed into a tiny 50-square-meter apartment, struggling to make ends meet. Julia juggled university teaching assistant work and night shifts just to pay their rent.

Even now, after seeing her exhausted and overworked, Francis felt guilty.

So, for their first anniversary, he planned a surprise.

A candlelit dinner, a table filled with home-cooked dishes, soft lighting that cast flickering shadows across their faces.

But Julia felt nothing.

This, too, was just another act. Another scene in Francis’ carefully orchestrated performance.

She played her part, smiling on cue, pretending to be moved.

That night, after a few drinks, they ended up tangled in each other.

Francis trailed kisses down her neck, his warmth lingering on her skin. But then—

A scent.

A woman’s perfume clung to his clothes.

The moment Julia recognized it, all desire vanished.

She tried to pull away, but Francis held her firmly in his arms.

Outside, the rain drummed steadily against the window, the air growing thick with heat.

Julia swore to herself that this would never happen again.

Just then, a phone rang, cutting through the moment.

And the voice on the other end was the last one Julia wanted to hear.

"Francis, my boyfriend’s in trouble! He just got arrested-"

"And I just found out I’m pregnant. What should I do, Francis? You won’t abandon me, will you?"

Julia watched as the man who had been in her arms mere seconds ago jumped up, grabbing his clothes in a hurry.

"I’ll be right there."

His voice was steady, unwavering.

At that moment, Julia finally understood.

Valerie would always come first.

She reached for Francis' hand, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you have to go? It's still raining outside…"

Francis paused, standing in the dim light. His face was obscured by shadows, but Julia could still sense the coldness in his eyes.

Whether it was hesitation or boredom, his silence hurt more than any words ever could.

Their marriage certificate had been fake.

So, their anniversary was fake, too.

She had only ever been his companion—someone to fill the void. Valerie, on the other hand, was his obsession.

The door clicked shut behind him.

A sharp, searing pain shot through Julia’s waist, the old wound flaring up like fire wrapping around her body. She broke into a cold sweat, her vision swimming.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself toward the bedside table, fumbling for painkillers. With shaking hands, she swallowed them dry.

As the medication took effect, her breathing steadied.

That was when she felt something crumpled beneath her fingers.

A faded, worn piece of paper that was tucked away in the deepest corner of the drawer.

It was the only photograph her parents had left her.

For years, she had carried it wherever she went.

Clutching it to her chest, she closed her eyes, feeling the faint rhythm of her heartbeat beneath the fragile paper.

And then, she broke.

Tears spilled down her face, silent at first, then wracking her body with sobs.

The grief, the loneliness, the betrayal. All of them poured out at once, as relentless as the rain pounding against the window.

In the darkness, she didn’t notice the phone buzzing beside her.

A message from her professor.

[Professor: Hello, Julia. Please come to the Archaeological Research Institute at ten o’clock tomorrow.]

Chapter 4

The next morning, Julia woke up to an empty bed.

Francis never came home.

He really spent the night with Valerie on their wedding anniversary.

Julia reached for her phone, but there was no message, no explanation from him. Instead, a single notification from her professor reminded her of the meeting she had almost forgotten.

When she arrived at the professor’s office, the room was already filled with quiet anticipation.

An older man with silver hair stood beside Valerie.

“This is Professor Andrew Harrington, the former director of our Institute of Archaeology,” her professor introduced. “And this is his granddaughter, Valerie.”

Julia’s gaze barely flickered.

The professor hesitated at her lack of reaction. “Valerie mentioned you two were already acquainted, so I’ll skip introductions. She’s very interested in your research and hopes to collaborate.”

As soon as the professor left, the friendly mask Valerie wore in front of others disappeared.

With slow, deliberate steps, she approached Julia, her smile brimming with malice.

“How does it feel to give up a kidney for Francis?”

Julia said nothing.

Valerie let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head in mock pity. “Did you really think he cared?”

Still, Julia remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Valerie scoffed. “I came here today to tell you the truth.”

She leaned in closer, voice dripping with cruelty.

“Francis never had uremia. And neither did I.”

Julia’s body stiffened.

“I sold your kidney on the black market,” Valerie whispered, delighting in the devastation she expected to see. “And made a fortune off it.”

Then, with exaggerated nonchalance, she pulled a thick stack of cash from her designer purse and tossed it at Julia’s face.

Banknotes fluttered to the floor like discarded scraps.

“I know you love money. Isn’t that why you stayed with Francis? Go ahead, pick it up.”

Julia clenched her fists, her breath steady despite the storm raging inside her.

Not satisfied with her lack of reaction, Valerie pressed on, circling Julia like a predator.

“Did you know that the marriage certificate Francis gave you was fake? I forged it myself.” She smirked, relishing the moment. “Francis never loved you. Next month, he’ll finally marry me legally.”

Valerie reached for Julia’s necklace, yanking it hard. The string snapped, sending pearls scattering to the floor.

“Broken pearls are worthless,” she sneered, grinding them under her heel. “Just like you.”

Something inside Julia snapped.

With a sharp crack, her palm met Valerie’s cheek, leaving a vivid red imprint.

“This was my mother’s,” Julia seethed.

“Who gave you the right to touch it?”

But Valerie wasn’t done. Smirking through the sting, she stomped harder on the pearls, as if grinding Julia’s last bit of hope into dust.

Julia lunged.

With one forceful push, she pinned Valerie against the wall.

Before she could land another hit, the door burst open.

Francis.

His hand grabbed Julia’s wrist and wrenched her back, shoving her to the floor.

Valerie’s whimper was immediate, her voice weak and trembling. “Francis…”

Francis wrapped his arms around her protectively, his expression dark with anger.

“Why did you hit Valerie? She’s still recovering!”

Julia stared up at him from the floor.

The pain in her waist flared violently from the impact, but the ache in her chest was worse.

Francis didn’t care. He didn’t even notice.

His cold gaze was unfamiliar, like he had never known her at all.

Without another word, he lifted Valerie into his arms and carried her out.

Julia watched them go, her body frozen but her mind finally clear.

It was over.

This time, she wouldn’t look back.

Chapter 5

It took Julia three hours to gather every last pearl from the floor.

Three hours spent on her knees, collecting the shattered remnants of what was once precious.

When the mess was finally cleaned up, she hailed a taxi to the cemetery.

Seven years ago, her parents had died in an accident while on an archaeological survey in Italy. She never got to say goodbye. By the time she arrived, their bodies had already been laid to rest in this quiet, elegant cemetery.

She was only sixteen then.

She met Francis for the first time at their funeral.

Francis' father had worked closely with hers, and at the time, his grief seemed genuine. He had treated Julia with kindness, and Francis extended that kindness even after his father’s passing.

Now, that kindness was gone.

Julia placed fresh flowers before their gravestone, tracing the engraved names with her fingertips.

Her professor once told her she had inherited her mother’s sharp mind and her father’s calm rationality.

But standing here now, she felt like a fool.

Seven years of her life were wasted. Seven years devoted to a man who never truly loved her. A man she had given everything to whether it was her heart, her trust, or even a part of her body.

She clenched her fists.

Why did Francis pretend for so long? Why go from living in a penthouse to squeezing into a tiny apartment with her?

It might be because of Valerie's gangster boyfriend. Maybe Francis was bitter over losing his childhood sweetheart and clung to Julia because she was convenient, because she asked for so little.

If her mother were alive, she would’ve scolded her for being so blind.

Julia knelt before the tombstone, just as she had seven years ago in the rain.

“Mom, your proud daughter was deceived by a hypocritical man for seven years,” she whispered.

“But it doesn’t matter. I’ve decided to leave him. I want to follow in your footsteps—to Italy, to archaeology.”

For years, the circumstances of her parents' deaths had haunted her.

The official report said they fell from a cliff at night. But why would two experienced archaeologists take such a reckless risk?

Something didn’t add up.

And Julia wouldn’t find answers unless she returned to the place where it all happened.

Back at her apartment, she started packing.

This tiny 50-square-meter space held too many memories of Francis.

One by one, she took out the gifts he had given her over the years. Using a shopping app’s price-check feature, she scanned each item.

The results stung.

None of them were worth more than £50.

She had treasured them. And yet, they were nothing.

She scribbled the prices onto sticky notes and tossed everything into a cardboard box, treating them as carelessly as Francis had treated her.

Then, she sat down and wrote a short, emotionless farewell letter.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Valerie.

Julia hesitated before opening it.

[Valerie: Francis feels so bad for me. Did it hurt when you hit the floor?]

Attached was a picture where Francis holding Valerie’s hand. His wedding ring was still on his finger.

Julia’s stomach twisted, but before she could block her, another message came in.

This time, a video.

The camera focused on Francis’ chest, his toned muscles on full display. Valerie’s voice cooed in the background.

“Francis, I’m already four months pregnant. Is it really okay to do it?”

His voice was a deep murmur.

“Just a little rubbing… it’s okay…”

Then came the sounds. Heavy breathing, soft breathing sound,his husky whispers.

Julia felt bile rise in her throat.

She shut off the video immediately and blocked Valerie’s number.

‘I wish the scum couple a happy marriage and eight bastard children.’

Her eyes drifted to the ring on her finger.

The only thing Francis ever gave her that had any real value.

Without hesitation, she listed it online and sold it.

With that money, she went straight to her friend’s tattoo shop.

She wanted a permanent reminder. Not of Francis, but of what she had survived.

On the left side of her lower back, right over the scar from her stolen kidney, she inked a single line of text.

‘Boy Only Wants Love If It Is Torture.’

Chapter 6

The next morning, Francis woke up in a strange bed.

He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His head throbbed from last night’s drinking, and his body felt sluggish.

He looked around.

No one was there.

Slowly, memories from the previous night surfaced. At a gathering with friends, he had ended up talking about Julia.

He had told them how much she had loved him—how she had given up a kidney for him and worked tirelessly by his side. He had even admitted, for a brief moment, that he felt guilty for how he had treated her.

Then, he had gotten drunk.

Francis vaguely remembered Valerie taking him back to the villa.

A sudden ringing broke the morning silence. His assistant’s panicked voice came through the phone.

"It's bad, Mr. Pendleton! Miss Valerie is bleeding heavily from a miscarriage! She’s in the hospital undergoing emergency treatment!"

Francis sat up abruptly, his mind racing.

"The doctor said Miss Valerie has a rare O-negative blood type, and the hospital is running out of supply. Her life is in danger!"

Was Valerie … in trouble?

Images from the previous night flashed in his mind. Valerie was in bed with him with her hands on his body.

This hadn’t been his plan, but under the influence of alcohol, he hadn’t stopped himself.

Wasn’t it just a bit of fun? How could it have caused heavy bleeding and a miscarriage?

Then, a thought struck him.

Julia.

"Find Julia," he ordered. "She has the same blood type as Valerie. Valerie must be saved!"

Julia had already arrived at the airport, holding a one-way ticket to freedom.

Just as she was about to board, her phone rang.

"Is this Miss Julia Alderston?" a deep voice asked.

"This is Doctor Alex Harkinson from the London Blood Bank Center."

Julia froze.

During her kidney surgery a month ago, doctors had discovered her rare O-negative blood type and recorded it in the national database.

Doctor Harkinson continued, his voice urgent.

"A pregnant woman has suffered a miscarriage and is losing too much blood. Her blood type is extremely rare, like yours. The hospital's supply is critically low. Would you be willing to donate?"

Faced with a life-or-death situation, Julia didn’t hesitate.

She changed her flight and rushed to the hospital.

Due to her weakened condition, she was advised to donate only a small amount.

But she insisted on giving twice as much as recommended.

The dark red blood flowed out of her body, making her dizzy, but she didn’t regret it.

If she could save one—maybe even two—lives, it was worth it.

As Julia sat in the hospital, still weak from the blood loss, a familiar figure appeared in the corridor.

Francis.

He hurried toward her, his face filled with worry.

"Francis, what are you doing here?" Julia asked, her voice laced with doubt.

His lips tightened, as if he were hiding something.

"I… I came to see my cousin. She just gave birth," he said hesitantly.

Before Julia could respond, Henry, Francis' assistant, arrived, speaking in hurried French.

"Francis, Valerie is stable now. Luckily, Julia donated blood in time."

Francis let out a relieved sigh. "That’s good."

Julia’s breath caught.

So that was it.

First, he had used her love.

Now, he had used her kindness.

To him, she had never been a lover—just a walking blood bank, a disposable resource.

Without another word, she stood up and walked away.

Before boarding her flight, she removed her SIM card and threw it in the trash.

There was no going back.