"Priscilla, I'll take everything from you-your family's love, your husband's loyalty... And you? You'll end up with nothing," Larissa Wilburn, Priscilla Wilburn's sister, declared confidently.

And she did it.

Priscilla became the sister her twin brother Claude Wilburn resented, and the wife Wesley Carlton despised.

On the night of Larissa's birthday, Priscilla miscarried. Nobody noticed or simply cared.

***

At 11:30 p.m.

Priscilla stared blankly at the harsh white light above her head and the IV bag dripping clear fluid.

The ward door creaked open, and a slightly tired male voice broke the silence. "Honey, what happened?"

An hour ago, she was wheeled out of the OR. Under the nurse's pitying gaze, she borrowed a phone to text Wesley, asking him to come and cover her medical bills when available.

Finally, he arrived-immaculate in a crisp white shirt, his handsome features marred only by faint traces of exhaustion.

She turned her face away, the corners of her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked as he sat down by her bedside, his expression as distant as ever.

He rushed over as soon as he saw her text, clueless to the brutal suffering she had endured.

All of a sudden, a sharp ache twisted in her chest. If she hadn't seen how gently he treated someone else, if she hadn't almost died on that rainy night, she might've believed he was born this cold.

The smell of alcohol on him turned her stomach.

"My phone broke. Could you please cover my medical bills?" she rasped, her voice raw from exhaustion.

She planned to tell him the rest after the pain eased a bit.

Wesley caught the faint thread of aversion in her tone.

He arched an eyebrow, slightly displeased. "Today is Larissa's birthday. Where were you?"

Priscilla's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. Of course, she knew it was Larissa's birthday. She even knew they had thrown Larissa a lavish celebration.

Her family and husband spent almost the entire evening celebrating for Larissa.

So absorbed that Priscilla couldn't even reach them when she was in excruciating pain.

"I had to deal with something," she said, her tone flat.

Wesley knitted his brows, his tone irritated, "Seriously? Today of all days? What could possibly be more important?"

His sharp words cut deeper than the pain in her body.

He knew nothing.

He didn't know she had been robbed, let alone that she had lost their baby.

Her anger flared as she snapped, "Wesley, are you implying I got myself hospitalized on purpose?"

The silence that followed stretched endlessly, thick and suffocating.

Just one look into Wesley's deep, inscrutable eyes, she read the unspoken confirmation.

Her heart sank to the bottom as she curved her lips self-mockingly.

Three years of marriage, and this was how he saw her.

Sensing the argument brewing, Wesley stood up. "I'll go pay the bills. Get some rest. Dr. Thompson is on her way here."

Sarah Thompson was an obstetrician. Since becoming pregnant, Priscilla had been under her care.

"Wesley, do you know..." Priscilla suddenly had the urge to tell him about the miscarriage.

"Priscilla!" Just then, a delicate, sweet voice rang out together with the door opening, cutting her off.

Larissa stood there in a pink gown, hair swept into an elegant chignon, a diamond crown glimmering under the light. She looked incredibly radiant, gentle, and adorable.

"Priscilla, are you OK?" she said while walking over to the bed.

Priscilla swallowed back her words. The sight of Larissa yanked her back into that freezing, rain-soaked night-countless unanswered calls, the slow creep of death, and the utter despair.

A deep hatred immediately washed over her.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice icy.

Larissa's eyes reddened with guilt. "I'm sorry, Priscilla. I shouldn't have asked Wes to come to the party."

Priscilla closed her eyes. Her body hurt, but it was nothing compared to the exhaustion gnawing at her soul.

"Larissa, this had nothing to do with you." Wesley frowned, annoyed by Priscilla's tone.

He was certain Priscilla was being intentionally unreasonable.

After all, she had never liked the Wilburns, and Larissa, who had just come back, had always been a thorn in her side.

It had been only a month since Larissa's return, yet he and Priscilla had already argued several times because of her.

Larissa continued, biting her lip, "Priscilla, don't be upset. You're pregnant, remember? That's what matters most. I'll ... keep my distance from Wes from now on."

"Oh, so you do remember I'm pregnant?" Priscilla curved her lips into a mocking smile.

For the past month, Larissa had summoned Wesley away with every excuse imaginable.

At this, Larissa's doe eyes filled with tears. She pursed her lips, an injured look on her face.

"Larissa, could you give us the room for a second? Let me talk to her," Wesley said gently, as if coaxing a child.

Larissa bit her lip and reminded him softly, "Wes, don't be too hard on her, alright? She's pregnant with your baby."

With that, she walked out reluctantly, glancing back a few times before closing the door.

Priscilla looked up at Wesley, her gaze filled with desperation and sadness.

Then she closed her eyes.

As Wesley turned back to her, the gentleness he'd shown Larissa was already gone, replaced by coldness. "Priscilla, leave Larissa out of this. She's never done anything wrong."

His protective tone cut deep into Priscilla's heart.

Their marriage had started as a convenience, but somewhere along the way, she had fallen for him.

She used to think he felt the same.

Until Larissa's return burst her bubble.

He saved all his tenderness for Larissa.

It had taken Priscilla three years to finally understand-he had never loved her.

"Wesley, let's get a divorce." She stared blankly at the IV bag. Though her tone was soft, her resolve was unshakable.

In fact, she had thought about it the day Larissa came back, yet some stubborn part of her still clung to the last shred of hope.

Wesley's stern expression softened a little as he thought of something. "I know it's just the anger talking. Larissa and I are just friends. Don't get the wrong idea."

Priscilla tilted her head, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

As her hand moved to her lower abdomen, she murmured, "Wesley, the baby's gone."

Wesley didn't hear Priscilla's murmurs. He stood up and walked away with his phone in hand. "Larissa's waiting for me outside. I'm going to her. Get some rest, Priscilla. I'll come back later to check on you."

He couldn't be bothered to argue with an irrational woman.

"Priscilla! You gave Larissa a hard time again?" Just then, an angry shout erupted as the door slammed against the wall, the crash particularly jarring.

A tall, slender man stormed in, his face, strikingly similar to Priscilla's, twisted in anger. As his gaze fell upon her pale face, he was slightly stunned. But soon, his questioning voice rang out again, even sterner this time.

"You know today's Larissa's birthday, and you got sick in the middle of the night? Gosh, Priscilla. You're such a cunning bitch." He glared at Larissa in bed, his gaze burning with rage. "What the fuck is your problem? Are you enjoying yourself, screwing with us? Do you ever see us as family?"

He was so certain that Priscilla had pretended to be sick to ruin Larissa's birthday party.

Priscilla clenched her fists. Here she was, lying in the hospital bed, enduring excruciating pain. Yet Claude, her brother, was hurling curses at her.

Grief and despair consumed her.

"Do you think I chose to fall sick today?" she retorted coldly, her hoarse voice laced with sarcasm.

The disgust and impatience in Claude's eyes were undisguised. "Fine. Forget about your so-called illness. Answer me-Larissa was trying to be nice, coming here to check on you. Why did you make her cry?"

Before entering the ward, he saw Larissa in a corner, wiping away her tears.

Who else could have made her cry but Priscilla?

It was so typical of Priscilla. She always spewed venom, acting all bitter, as if everyone owed her.

Hearing his words, Priscilla looked behind Claude and saw Larissa, who was crying pitifully.

"Claude, don't blame Priscilla. It had nothing to do with her. I ... got something in my eye. That's all."

Her explanation further enraged Claude.

He furrowed his brows even more tightly. "Priscilla, enough with your dirty schemes. Hear me clearly-the Wilburn family doesn't owe you anything, especially not Larissa."

"Claude, say no more. Priscilla's pregnant..." Larissa tugged at his arm. "Besides, it was my fault. I knew she was pregnant, yet I still insisted Wes celebrate my birthday. She's hospitalized because of me..."

Saying this, she started to cry again.

Trying her best not to snap, Priscilla clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

She didn't want to argue. It'd only piss her off even more.

But Claude still wouldn't let go. "Yeah, she's pregnant. So what? That doesn't mean we have to put up with all her unreasonable demands."

"That's enough." Wesley frowned. Though he agreed that Priscilla was being unreasonable, Claude's words were uncalled for.

Claude's resentment toward Priscilla was undisguised. He scoffed, his voice dripping with malice, "Just wait and see. Faking an illness is just her first step. Next, she'll be using the baby as leverage.

"She's such an unreasonable, scheming bitch. I weep for her baby."

Priscilla had thought Wesley's distrust shattered her heart, but Claude's words plunged her even deeper into despair.

Trembling in anger, she grabbed a pillow, hurled it at Claude with all her might, and snarled desperately, "Get out!"

Tears streamed down her eyes, filled with devastation.

She had never believed Claude could be a good brother, but still, he shouldn't have said this.

Claude knocked the pillow aside. Blinded by fury, he bellowed, "Did I say anything wrong? You vicious bitch, using your baby to fake an illness before it's even born! Maybe you want it to die inside you!"

His words were nothing but venomous.

"I said, enough, Claude." Wesley frowned and glanced at Claude deeply.

He was displeased by how unreasonable Priscilla was. But, at the end of the day, she was his wife.

"Didn't you hear me? Get out!" Priscilla's eyes turned bloodshot. She scrambled off the bed, hurling everything within reach at Claude, glaring at him as if he were her sworn enemy.

Wesley swiftly caught her wrist and yanked her toward him, his deep frown revealing his irritation. "Priscilla, enough of your nonsense."

She went still at once. Tears rolled down her ghastly pale cheeks quietly, the chilling hatred in her crimson eyes enough to kill.

"You, get out, too."

Her light tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Priscilla." Wesley was genuinely angry, his tone sterner than ever.

"Priscilla, calm down. Surely, you don't wanna hurt your baby." Larissa came over and tried to steady Priscilla, her charming eyes filled with worry.

"Stay away from me." Priscilla pulled her wrist away from Wesley's grip and shoved Larissa away. She swung her hand too far, which accidentally landed on the back of Larissa's hand.

Larissa let out a small cry, clutching her hand.

"Priscilla!" Claude was seething with rage, looking as if he wanted to tear Priscilla into pieces. "Larissa just wanted to help. And you hit her?

"Apologize to her. Now!"

A searing pain made Priscilla's body tremble slightly, her forehead drenched in sweat.

She bit her lip hard, stifling any sound of pain.

"It wasn't Priscilla's fault. I ... should've been more careful," Larissa said pitifully, her doe-like eyes glistening with tears.

"Wes? Aren't you gonna do something?" Claude's gaze swept from Priscilla's stubborn face to Wesley.

Priscilla turned to Wesley, too. Deep down, she knew he wouldn't take her side, but the great pain gave her an illusion, and for a moment, she let herself hope.

All it took was one glance. If he cared to look at her, he'd surely realize something was wrong.

"Priscilla, Larissa was just being nice. You're way out of line." Wesley looked down at her, his tone glacial.

She straightened up with all her might. Her long, disheveled hair cascaded over her shoulders, her already gaunt face ghastly pale.

Staring at Wesley without blinking, she said, her tone chilling to the bone, "Wesley, didn't you hear what Claude said? He cursed your baby to die."

Wesley ignored her sickly pale face, thinking she was faking an illness. When Claude cursed her baby, he acted all indifferent. But as she accidentally patted Larissa's hand, it was "way out of line".

Could he be any more biased?

Priscilla had never felt this pathetic before.

Her husband didn't love her, and her family didn't care about her.

Her life was surrounded by endless suspicion and unremitting pain.

Did Wesley really think of her as his wife? How could he despise her like this?

"Claude didn't mean what he said," Larissa apologized on behalf of Claude. "He said that because he was too worried about me. Priscilla, I apologize to you on his behalf."

Claude shot Larissa a grateful glance, his fondness for her growing deeper-and with it, his resentment toward Priscilla sharpened.

"You may both step out," Wesley said slowly. Then he frowned at Priscilla. "Priscilla, cut it out already before you harm the baby."

Priscilla clenched her teeth, but the pain in her lower abdomen kept intensifying. Her vision blurred, and she could no longer hold on. With a dull thud, she collapsed to the floor.

"Spare me, Priscilla. Not again," Claude scoffed with contempt, looking down at Priscilla on the floor. "Bravo, Priscilla. Perfect timing for a faint-just as your lies were exposed. But you overlooked one thing. We're in a hospital. Do you really think the doctors can't see through your act?"

Wesley bent down to scoop Priscilla into his arms. She was so light-he felt like holding a feather.

He felt a strange sensation in his heart. He had seldom seen her lately and had no idea she had lost so much weight.

"I'll go get a doctor." Claude strode out at once, eager to expose Priscilla's act.

Before he could reach the door, a nurse pushed it open.

Priscilla had a miscarriage and had no family by her side, so the nurse was particularly concerned about monitoring her IV drip. Now was about the time the last IV bag emptied.

She walked over. Her expression changed drastically when she saw Priscilla's pale face and the blood on the back of her hand, and she immediately pressed the call button to summon a doctor.

"Doctor, the patient in bed 29 is in a coma. She needs emergency treatment."

Soon, hurried footsteps rang out in the hallway.

The doctor rushed over with a couple of nurses.

After a brief examination, Priscilla was wheeled into the ER.

Wesley guarded outside the door, his heartbeat racing for some reason.

Claude's indifferent voice rang out. "She's faking it. Save the trouble."

The nurse rolled her eyes at him. "Since when does a layman know better than us?"

Priscilla's bloodless face surfaced in Wesley's mind as he asked, "What exactly happened to her?"

"She had a miscarriage," the nurse said before hurrying into the ER.

Silence filled the hallway.

Larissa murmured, "A miscarriage? How's that possible?"

Wesley stood motionless in a daze, Priscilla's intense reaction after Claude's harsh words flashing across his mind.

What had really happened to Priscilla?

He grabbed his phone and texted his assistant, wanting to know everything that had happened tonight.

Claude also found it hard to believe. He muttered, "A miscarriage? No way. Maybe ... she wanted it to happen."

Hearing this, Wesley immediately looked up and stared at him icily.

Claude froze. Then he faltered, "I... I just... I mean, it didn't make sense..."

Larissa tugged at his arm and whispered, "Enough, Claude."

Wesley's expression was cold and stern, his towering figure exuding a commanding presence. "She's my wife. Claude, if you disrespect her again, there'll be consequences."

Claude curled his lip, not saying anything anymore.

About an hour later, Priscilla was wheeled out. Her condition had stabilized.

A nurse asked, "Who's the patient's family?"

Wesley stepped forward. "I'm her husband."

She gave him a once-over, her eyes filled with disdain. Then she instructed, her voice cold, "The patient just had a miscarriage. She needs proper rest and a quiet environment. Fewer people in the ward is better for her recovery."

***

When Priscilla opened her eyes, she found herself in a VIP ward of the Carlton Group's private hospital.

Surely, it was Wesley's arrangement.

"Priscilla, does it still hurt?" Wesley was sitting by the bedside, the indifference in his tone yesterday completely replaced by gentleness.

She looked up when she heard his voice. The sight of his face still sent a lancing pain through her body.

She tilted her head to look outside the window, trying not to get worked up.

Wesley's deep voice echoed in the ward. "Priscilla, I'm sorry about what happened last night. If I had known, I..."

He would have sent someone to pick her up.

"Wesley, three years is almost up." Priscilla's voice was barely audible, her face indifferent.

He stared at her side profile, the black shirt adding a touch of gloom to his appearance.

After saying this, she slowly turned to look at him. Then she continued flatly, "According to the agreement, we have three months left. The divorce cooling-off period is one month."

Neither she nor he wanted the marriage in the first place, so they had shaken hands on a three-year agreement. If they still didn't have feelings for each other after three years, they'd get a divorce.

Now that she had brought this up, he knew she was proposing a divorce.

"We'll always have other children. Stay strong, alright?" Wesley pursed his thin lips, lowering his gaze a little. Losing the baby hit him hard, too.

But it was just an accident.

"I will have children in the future, but you won't be the father," Priscilla blurted out what she was thinking.

"Welsey, Larissa's back. If you wanna marry her, I can step aside."

"There's nothing going on between Larissa and me." A trace of gentleness flashed across Wesley's eyes when he said Larissa's name.

Priscilla couldn't be bothered to argue with him about this.

It was the truth-he and Larissa had never done anything crossing the line, but he was her husband, and she'd never tolerate seeing him fixate on another woman.

How could he be so indifferent after losing their baby?

As a man, he could never truly grasp her bond with the baby-the feeling of having a life growing inside her was amazing and indescribable.

And naturally, he couldn't feel the pain after losing it. It was like being flayed alive.

That was why he could casually say, "We'll always have other children".

"I'm not suggesting otherwise. I just mean that since she's the one you love, now that she's back, you should go back to be with her," she said, her tone calm.

She had thought it through. Since he wanted to take care of Larissa, she wouldn't stand in their way.

"I told you already. There's nothing going on between us," Wesley said, his gaze turning cold. After a pause, he added, "I know you're upset about losing the baby, but Larissa had nothing to do with it."

Priscilla coughed, her eyes reddening.

Her chest tightened, suffocating her.

"Priscilla..."

"You knew I was pregnant," she interrupted him, the iciness and mockery in her eyes undisguised.

"But you didn't want me to disturb you, so you ignored my calls and even muted your phone at last," she said word by word, laying out the things he had done.

It was just her suspicion, but she was pretty confident about it.

She hadn't wanted to expose him. But his relentless defense of Larissa's innocence finally wore out her patience.

Wesley fell silent, pursing his lips. In fact, Priscilla was correct. When he saw her calling him, he figured she was making a scene again, so he muted his phone.

He regretted it very much.

"It's already happened. No point dwelling on it now." He wasn't interested in pointless arguments.

Walking out, he said, "Get some rest. I gotta go back to deal with something."

He closed the door.

Silence prevailed.

Priscilla tugged at her lips, yet her eyes were filled with sadness.

Soon, someone brought over a new phone. Her original had been ruined during the downpour, and the new SIM card was already inserted.

She turned it on, and it beeped with several new messages.

Some expressed their concerns, and some texted to question her. She tossed the phone away, ignoring them all.

After lying comatose for most of the day, she felt better when she woke up again.

At 6:00 p.m., her phone rang.

It was a call from her close friend, Corrine Morton.

She answered, saying, "Hey, Corrine."

Corrine's lowered voice rang out. "Priscilla, where are you? Why didn't you come to the perfume conference?"

Hearing this, Priscilla instinctively sprang from the bed, grimacing in pain.

After a few seconds, she smiled bitterly. Thinking of her current state, she said, "Something came up. I couldn't make it."

What followed was a few seconds of silence.

Then Corrine's voice came through again. "Wesley's here with Larissa. They act so intimate, holding hands and everything. Never mind, I'll send you some photos. See for yourself."

Soon, Corrine sent over several photos.

In the photos, Wesley was dressed in a tailored black suit, his breast pocket adorned with an exquisite silk square that elevated his refined presence. Larissa's fair wrist rested on the crook of his arm, her slender frame accentuated by an elegant silk gown. Her long hair was tied into a chignon, and she looked extremely gentle and charming.

They looked perfect for each other.

A stabbing pain shot through Priscilla's heart. She had just had a miscarriage and was still hospitalized, and there he was, accompanying Larissa to the perfume conference.

And that gown...

The gown was a pearly white. Under the chandelier, its sheen whispered luxury.

Priscilla had reserved it for the perfume conference. Corrine had designed it personally, spending over half a month to perfect the final stitch.

Corrine had told her the gown was ready a few days ago. If it weren't for the accident, she would have picked it up yesterday.

And now, Larissa was wearing it.

Of course, it was all "thanks to" Wesley.

She gritted her teeth to get out of bed with difficulty and then texted Corrine, "I'll be right there. Send someone to deliver a gown to the hotel for me."

Corrine immediately replied, "OK."

Half an hour later, she arrived at the hotel where the perfume conference was held. Corrine had been waiting for her at the entrance.

She was startled when she saw Priscilla. "Priscilla, you look terrible. What happened?"

Priscilla told her everything, the miscarriage included.

She was immediately seething with rage. "That shameless pair! How could they do this to you? Come. I'll make things right for you."

Priscilla stopped her. As grateful as she was, she knew-there were certain things she had to fix on her own.

"I'll go get changed first. Corrine, will you do my makeup?"

"You bet. Priscilla, no matter what happens, I'll always have your back."

Accompanied by Corrine, Priscilla changed into the gown, applied some makeup, and tied her hair up. Making sure she looked fine, they entered the banquet hall, linking arms.

The perfume conference was a major industry event held annually.

As the Carlton Group's lead perfumer, Priscilla had received an invitation about a month ago.

But over the past three years, she had seldom appeared in public, so not many people knew her.

All along the way, she heard nothing but praise for Larissa. The guests lauded her, saying she truly deserved her title as the Carlton Group's lead perfumer. She was great at crafting top-notch fragrances, and her beauty was breathtaking. No wonder Wesley had always kept her away from the public eye...

They all mistook Larissa for the Carlton Group's lead perfumer.

Slipping an arm through Priscilla's, Corrine announced loudly and clearly, "Everyone, come and meet this gorgeous beauty next to me. This is Priscilla Wilburn, the Carlton Group's lead perfumer."

The banquet hall fell silent at once.

Priscilla walked toward Larissa and Wesley unhurriedly.

Larissa immediately pulled her arm away from Wesley's and explained, "Priscilla, it's not what it looks like. You weren't feeling well, so I invited Wes to be my plus-one."

A trace of surprise flashed across Wesley's handsome face. "Priscilla? What are you doing here?"

Without sparing a glance at him, Priscilla stared at Larissa, her tone laced with mockery. "I didn't know the Wilburn family was doing so poorly. You actually wore someone else's gown for the conference? Couldn't you afford one?"

Larissa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at once, and she faltered, "Priscilla, I... My dress got stained, so Wes borrowed the gown from Ms. Morton."

Corrine rolled her eyes and said bluntly, "Oh, please. I never agreed to that. Wesley practically snatched it away, OK? Besides, if I had known he was taking it for you, I would have never let him have it."

Before the conference started, Corrine couldn't get a hold of Priscilla, so she came here with the gown. Wesley happened to see her and wanted to borrow it.

She didn't agree, and he grabbed it away from her directly. Figuring it was for Priscilla anyway, she didn't go after him. Later on, however, she saw it on Larissa.

Larissa bit her lip in embarrassment, her doe-like eyes brimming with tears.

Wesley stood in front of her protectively. "It's just a gown."

Priscilla looked into his eyes, saying calmly yet stubbornly, "The gown Corrine designed for me."

It was the gown she had chosen for her grand return.

After making up her mind on the divorce, she decided to expand her network. Attending today's perfume conference was her first step.

It was just ... the accident sabotaged her plan.

Wesley walked toward her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and said, his deep voice laced with gentleness, "You're still recovering. Why didn't you stay in bed?"

She looked at him, feeling disappointed. Once again, he changed the subject for Larissa's sake.

It had been at least five minutes since her appearance, but he had never shown concern about her health at all. Instead, here he was, trying to distract her, so she would stop targeting Larissa.

How disgusting.

She brushed his arm away, still fixing her gaze on Larissa. Curving her lips coldly, she said, "Ms. Wilburn, you wore my gown without my permission. This is no different from stealing."

Instantly, they were under a dozen prying gazes.

Extremely embarrassed, Larissa instinctively leaned closer to Wesley.

"Priscilla, why don't you give it to Larissa as a gift? I'll have the latest season's collection delivered to you tomorrow. Now, go back to the hospital to get some rest. You don't wanna see your condition worsen again, right?" Wesley said, his feigned patient tone filled with condescension.

"No," Priscilla smiled calmly, shaking her head. "From now on, what's mine is mine to control."

It had dawned on her-her husband, her family, they had all truly belonged to Larissa, never to her. She wouldn't fight Larissa for them.

But she wouldn't give up what was rightfully hers.

Like this gown-she'd never let anyone else have it.

"Priscilla, you weren't feeling well. That's why I attended the conference with Larissa." Wesley's expression darkened. He was certain Priscilla was simply jealous.

She was so willful. Getting jealous at such an important occasion? When would she ever grow up?

"I don't give a damn about that. Now, I want my gown back." His icy attitude meant nothing to Priscilla.

She wasn't interested in winning Wesley back. She wanted the gown-plain and simple.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Corrine sneered, "Mr. Carlton, you're so loaded. Why can't you have the latest season's collection delivered to your adorable plus-one? To think you snatched the gown away from me. That's just so humiliating, don't you think?"

"Priscilla, could you stop making a scene?" Wesley ignored Corrine and looked at Priscilla.

He didn't get it. Over the past three years, Priscilla had always been the perfect wife.

What had gotten into her?

"I just want my gown back," Priscilla emphasized again. Making a scene? That had never crossed her mind.

She'd leave right away if Larissa took off the gown and gave it back to her.

"I'll go get changed." Larissa lowered her head and tugged at Wesley's sleeve. "Wes, don't argue with Priscilla."

Wesley frowned, his sharp eyes filled with disappointment toward Priscilla.

Then he left while holding Larissa's hand.

Priscilla lowered her head, her expression unreadable.

Utterly furious, Corrine cursed, "That shameless pair!"

"It's fine, Corrine." Priscilla had come to terms with it. Now that the baby was gone, she and Wesley were over. Clinging to the past would just be torturing herself.

After half an hour, Larissa showed up again in a pink gown. She walked over to them, handed Priscilla a bag, and bit her lip, looking aggrieved. "There you go, Priscilla."

Priscilla took the bag and gave it to a waitress passing by. "Could you toss this in the trash? Thanks."

As the waitress quickly took the bag over, Priscilla added, "The gown inside costs about 200 thousand dollars. Though it's been worn and tainted, you'd still get around half that reselling it. Or feel free to bring it home if you want."

The waitress was so thrilled that her eyes lit up.

"Thank you so much."

She clutched the bag tightly and strode away, worried that Priscilla might have a change of mind.

For the waitress, she might have to work decades before earning 100 thousand dollars. This was like hitting the jackpot for her.

Larissa widened her eyes, turning beet red. It seemed she might burst into tears at any second.

She found it hard to believe what she had just heard. Tainted? What did Priscilla mean by that?

So many people were watching them...

She couldn't stand the humiliation anymore. Trying her best to hold back her tears, she lowered her head and ran outside.

"Larissa..." Wesley shot Priscilla a cold glance before chasing after her.

Expressionless, Priscilla watched their retreating figures as they vanished one after another into the crowd.

"Priscilla..."Corrine held onto her arm, looking at her worriedly.

Everyone in their circle would soon hear about what happened today. While it humiliated Larissa, Wesley chasing after her didn't leave Priscilla looking good either.

"I'm fine. Let's go." Priscilla straightened her back and stepped out.

At the hotel entrance, she apologized to Corrine. After all, Corrine designed and made the gown for her, and she gave it to someone else just like that.

But she really couldn't take that gown back, not after it had been worn by Larissa.

"Don't say that, Cilla. If it weren't for your help back then, I might have been dead already." Tears welled up in Corrine's eyes. "Forget about the gown. I'll even die for you."

"Hey, that's just nonsense." Priscilla held her hand tightly. "We have a long, happy life ahead of us. Alright?"

Corrine insisted on taking Priscilla back to the hospital. But before they left, a black Bentley stopped at the entrance.

Then someone gripped Priscilla by the wrist.

She looked up in surprise, and Wesley's face came into her view.

She couldn't help but frown. He had already left with Larissa, hadn't he?

His expression was devoid of any emotion. "I'll take you back to the hospital."

Meanwhile, Corrine grabbed Priscilla's other hand, refusing to let go. She said with a cold smile, "Leave that with me. Mr. Carlton, don't let us stand in your way chasing after someone else."

Wesley glanced at her. Though he said nothing, his gaze was intimidating enough.

But Corrine didn't flinch at all. She was about to step forward when Priscilla held her back.

"Corrine, go home. I'll be fine," Priscilla comforted, her tone gentle.

She hated to see Corrine have a fallout with Wesley because of her. Besides, there was someone that Corrine had wanted to see at the conference today. It'd be such a pity if she missed the chance.

"Cilla..." Corrine was still worried about Priscilla. She glared at Wesley fiercely.

Priscilla smiled reassuringly, "Chill, Corrine. We're still married. He won't harm me or anything."

Before Corrine could say anything else, Priscilla broke free from her grip and smiled, "Go inside. I'll see you around."

Corrine could only tell her to call if anything happened. After shooting Wesley another warning glance, she then entered the hotel.

Priscilla shook Wesley's hand away and got into the car.

Sitting next to her, Wesley closed the door.

Soothing music filled the car, carrying away restlessness like a gentle stream.

The car came to a stop at a red light.

Half of Wesley's face was hidden in the dark. "Larissa and I are just friends. You know she has someone she loves."

Priscilla knew his explanation was his way of compromising.

It was the first time he had explained to her since Larissa's return.

She turned to look outside the window, her eyes brimming with tears as a wave of bitterness washed over her.

Deep down, she knew-he didn't want her to cause trouble and make Larissa look bad again. That was why he backed down reluctantly.

She didn't say anything.

"What happened tonight is your fault. You should apologize to her," he demanded.

Every word was laced with his defense of Larissa and his criticism of Prescilla's petulance.

She couldn't help but turn to look at him. She used to be so familiar with his face, but now, she could hardly recognize it anymore.

"Wesley, what am I to you?" she asked softly.

"Larissa has been my friend for years, and she's your sister. Now that she has come back after a breakup to rebuild her career, we ought to support her in every way we can." Wesley's tone was particularly harsh.

He didn't get it. How come Prescilla was always so mean to Larissa?

After a pause, he added, "If you're still bothered by the fact that I used to have feelings for her, you've got nothing to worry about. You're my wife now, and I'll never betray you.

"You've misunderstood my relationship with her."

A dull pain shot through Priscilla's lower abdomen. She clutched it with one hand, her chest tightening as she thought of her baby.

She sneered, "Both you and her disgust me."

He immediately gripped her wrist.

Yanking her toward him with great force, he looked at her, his gaze filled with fierceness and rage. "Disgust?"

They were married for three years. She actually claimed he disgusted her?

Priscilla lifted her chin and locked eyes with him, not flinching at all. "Or what? Do you expect me to clap for your devotion to her? Yeah, you surely are the paragon of simps."

"Priscilla!" Wesley was furious.

She continued, "When I got into the accident, you were celebrating Larissa's birthday for her. When I was hospitalized after the miscarriage, you attended the perfume conference as her plus-one. Wesley, exactly what am I to you?

"A legal fuckbuddy? Or a breeding tool?"

She pulled her wrist away from Wesley's grip.

Though she did it slowly, her every movement screamed determination.

Wesley's grip loosened for a bit before he grasped her wrist tightly again.

His scorching touch burned through her skin and crept into her bones.

She had been feeling unwell, and now, all her patience was worn out. She couldn't even be bothered to hide her disgust.

"Wesley, I just lost your baby. If you have even a shred of conscience left, leave me alone."

Wesley pursed his lips, neither speaking nor letting go.

Furious, she felt her entire body aching.

Soon, they arrived at the hospital.

As Wesley loosened his grip, Priscilla immediately shoved his hand away and got out of the car.

Before she could walk away, he picked her up.

She spat, "Put me down."

He glanced at her pale face. "Don't move."

Biting her lip, she quieted down. She had been drenched from the downpour. Combined with the miscarriage and the trip to the perfume conference, she felt utterly drained.

Therefore, she didn't struggle in his arms.

Shortly after she went back to the ward and lay down, Sarah came over.

After giving her a check-up, Sarah reminded her subtly, "Mrs. Carlton, your condition is still weak. You should make sure you have proper rest. Also, maintaining a positive emotional state matters."

Obviously, Priscilla wasn't in a good mood.

It wasn't good for her recovery.

"Thank you, Dr. Thompson," Priscilla said politely. Of all people, Wesley, the one person who should have been the most intimate with her, didn't know she needed rest.

Oh, wait. Maybe he did know. He just didn't care.

Sarah soon left.

Staring at the IV bag, Priscilla drifted to sleep before she realized it.

When she woke up, she was surprised to see Wesley.

He sat on the sofa not far away from the bed, frowning at a document in his hand. His pursed lips betrayed his bad mood.

She propped herself up on her arms, trying to sit up.

Hearing the rustling sound, he put down the document and walked over.

Naturally putting his hands on her waist, he asked, his voice deep, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," she lowered her gaze, responding softly.

Wesley put a pillow behind Priscilla's back and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his toned forearms.

Then he unscrewed the lid of the thermos on the nightstand and poured some soup for her.

The rich food aroma soon filled the air, and her stomach growled.

She reached for the soup.

He put it away from her and sat by the bed. "I'll feed you."

He seemed so gentle, his expression softening.

Staring at him, she almost had an illusion-perhaps they had never argued because of Larissa.

"I can do it." She shook her head, turning him down.

But he still unhurriedly placed the spoon next to her lips, as if he hadn't heard her at all.

She frowned. Sometimes, she really couldn't fathom what he was thinking. On the way back, he had blamed her for embarrassing Larissa, demanding that she apologize to Larissa.

And now, he acted like nothing had ever happened.

Did her questioning in the car make him guilty? That was ... highly unlikely.

Her gaze fell upon the soup as she said flatly, "If you have something to say, just say it."

Wesley's deep-set eyes were laced with tenderness. "I'm to blame for your miscarriage. I wanna make it up to you."

He said this so seriously.

Immediately, tears welled up in Priscilla's eyes, rage surging within her.

He wanted to make it up to her?

How?

Even the soup sickened her.

"I don't have an appetite. Put it away."

"Don't throw a tantrum again." His expression darkened.

She said, looking serious, "If you still love Larissa, I can back off. I mean it, Wesley.

"Let's get a divorce. Then I won't stand in your way anymore."

He put down the bowl, lowered his head, and leaned closer to her.

Their eyes locked.

He said, "We got married based on an agreement..."

She interrupted him, "Yes, I know that. We shook hands on three years when we signed it. And there are only three months left."

Her nose twitched, and her voice was hoarse.

It was true-their marriage began as a deal, but she grew serious.

To her, Wesley was her husband, her family, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

But maybe some things and people were never hers to keep.

She continued, "The divorce cooling-off period takes a month..."

Suddenly, Wesley snapped, "Even if there's only a day left, until then, you're still my wife."

He held the bowl in his hand again. "I'm your husband, and taking care of you is what I should do."

Holding back her tears, she ate the soup.

So, he was just fulfilling his duty as her husband.

It had nothing to do with guilt or anything else.

The atmosphere in the ward was suffocating by the time she finished the soup.

She slowly lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes.

Wesley tightened the thermos lid, his gaze falling upon her pale face. She was clearly frail, but she stubbornly acted so unreasonably and kept making scenes...

He really didn't know what she was thinking.

Early the next morning, Priscilla woke up. Wesley had already left, and a servant from home was in the ward.

Right after the servant helped her with breakfast, a middle-aged woman in elegant attire stormed in.

She barked, "What did you do to Larissa, Priscilla?"

Leaning against the headboard, Priscilla indifferently looked at Tania Bradshaw, her biological mother.

Tania never liked Priscilla. The indifference on Priscilla's face made her resent Priscilla even more, and her words were nothing but harsh.

"Larissa just returned home. As her sister, you should have helped her in every way you could. But you didn't. Instead, you insulted her in front of so many people. What the heck were you up to?

"You forced her to take off the gown, and after she did, you gave it to some waitress. Don't you know people were watching? How could you humiliate her like that?"

Priscilla was already well-known for her exceptional perfumery skills and understated style. Besides, Wesley had been there yesterday, too. Therefore, word got out quickly, and everyone in the circle had learned about the incident.

Larissa had become a laughingstock overnight, and she cried so hard that her eyes were swollen.

Enduring the bitterness, Priscilla said flatly after Tania's questioning, "I'm hospitalized."

Tania was stunned. Of course, she knew. Otherwise, she would have shown up here at all.

She firmly believed it was another trick Priscilla had pulled.

Priscilla grew up in a small town in the countryside and lacked proper manners.

To fight with Larissa for Wesley's favor, she had pulled several stunts over the past month.

"Larissa and Wes are childhood sweethearts. Stop throwing a tantrum, Priscilla," Tania frowned while lecturing Priscilla.

A wave of powerlessness washed over Priscilla. Like Wesley, Tania believed she was just throwing a tantrum.

They both presumed her goal was to win Wesley's favor.

"I lost my baby." She looked up, her expression as indifferent as ever.