"Esther Collins, do you really wanna die that badly?"

The sharp scent of antiseptic clung to her nose. Pain throbbed at her neck as Esther coughed and forced her eyes open.

And the first thing she saw—was his face.

He was handsome, in that cold, arrogant kind of way. Sharp brows, deep eyes, a straight nose. But right now, his whole face was twisted with rage. Fury burned at the edges of his eyes, and the hatred behind them was so intense, it stung.

His thin lips parted, each word dragged out through gritted teeth.

Esther suddenly laughed. Her eyes widened, full of heartbreak and hopelessness. "Yeah, Ethan Hamilton. If dying gets me away from a bastard like you—then I’d rather be dead."

“Smack!”

The slap echoed through the hospital room. Her head snapped to the side, a hot sting blooming across her cheek. Tears spilled down her face, mixing with the angry red mark left behind.

Ethan turned away without another word, his cold back all she could see.

“Esther Collins, your family owes me!”

“This baby—you’re carrying it whether you live or die!”

A week later, she stepped into the Hamilton estate.

As she climbed the stairs, a chorus of moans invaded her ears.

Inside the bedroom, a naked woman tangled in sheets flushed from head to toe. At the noise, she peered over lazily and gave the illusion of modesty, covering her marked body with the blanket.

“Oh, Miss Collins. Out of the hospital already?”

Esther shook with fury, her face like ice. She turned to leave, but a low growl stopped her in her tracks.

"Don’t move."

Ethan’s voice came from the bed. He looked down at her like she was beneath him. "Didn’t you always want to get in my bed? Well, here’s your big chance."

"Are you insane, Ethan Hamilton?" Esther laughed coldly, but it rang hollow.

The next second, a strong hand gripped her shoulder and shoved her viciously onto the bed.

"You’ve lost it!" she cried, struggling.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down, lips burning hot as they pressed against her skin—rough, mocking.

Jerk!

Her eyes burned, and all she could see was the mockery in Ethan’s eyes, and the smirk playing across Sophia Reed’s face.

She was his legally wedded wife. So why… why was she the one being humiliated like this?

And it had gone on for three whole years!

"Crash!"

Esther knocked a cup off the table, sending it smashing against the wall.

Blood welled up in her palm as she gripped a shard of glass, not caring about the cuts. She held the sharp edge to her neck, voice steady with desperation.

"Ethan Hamilton, let me go."

"I’ve tried ending this once. Don’t think I won’t try again."

"You’re out of your damn mind!" Ethan’s face twisted in disgust. "You think I’d touch you willingly?" He kicked her off the bed like she was nothing. "Get the hell out."

Her body screamed in pain. Shaking, she stumbled out of the room, then collapsed in the hallway, completely drained.

So this was love.

She’d held on for three years. All for a joke. A one-sided, pathetic obsession.

"Hey hey, look who it is." A voice, laced with snide amusement.

High heels clicked against the floor, and then Sophia appeared, strutting like she owned the place.

"You’re our dear Mrs. Hamilton, aren’t you?" Her eyes sparkled with glee. "Heard you tried hanging yourself the other day. A real shame it didn’t work. Someone like you—should’ve died sooner."

She bent down closer, smiling so sweet it turned Esther’s stomach.

"But I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t… I mean, you are carrying my baby, after all." Her eyes drifted pointedly to Esther’s belly, the smile never fading.