Chapter 1

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was a clean, sharp smell that stung my nose. Antiseptic. The second thing was the blank white ceiling. I stared at it for a long time, trying to remember where I was. My head ached, a dull throb that pulsed behind my eyes.

I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy and weak. A woman's sharp voice cut through the quiet.

"She's awake. After all that drama, she finally decides to wake up."

I turned my head slowly. A well-dressed woman with a tight, disapproving face stood by the door. Beside her, a man who looked just as stern stared at me. I didn't know who they were.

"Olivia, stop playing dumb," the woman said, her voice dripping with irritation. "You jump into the pool to what? Get Liam's attention again? You almost died. Are you happy now?"

Olivia. That must be my name. Liam. The name felt familiar but distant, like a word from a dream. Pool? I had no memory of a pool.

"I... I don't remember," I said. My voice was hoarse.

The woman scoffed. "Don't remember? You pull this stunt every few months. Now you're adding amnesia to your list of tricks? How pathetic."

The man finally spoke, his tone cold and dismissive. "Enough, Helen. We came to see if she was alive, and she is. Our duty is done. Scarlett is still recovering. We should be with her."

Scarlett. Another name. This one sent a strange, unpleasant feeling through me. The woman, Helen, nodded immediately. Her harsh expression softened as she spoke of Scarlett. "You're right, David. Scarlett was so frightened. That child is too kind. She was crying for Olivia, worried sick about her."

They were Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, my adoptive parents. The information surfaced in my mind without any emotion attached. They had adopted me, Olivia Reynolds, years ago. But their real daughter, their everything, was Scarlett Hayes. They took me in because my parents, their close friends, had died in an accident. They did it out of obligation. Scarlett was the one they showered with love. I was just an afterthought, a burden.

And Liam Sterling, my husband. I was married to him. The memory was a fact, not a feeling. We were married because of our families' arrangement. He never wanted me. He wanted Scarlett. My entire life, as the memories slowly trickled back in fragmented pieces, had been a desperate, humiliating attempt to win his love, to earn a place in a family that never wanted me.

Just as Mr. and Mrs. Hayes were about to leave, the door opened. A tall man with a cold, handsome face walked in. He wore an expensive suit and carried an air of power. Liam Sterling. My husband.

He didn't look at me. His eyes went straight to the Hayeses. "How is she?" he asked, but it was clear he was talking about someone else.

"She's fine, Liam. Just a little weak," Mrs. Hayes said softly. "The doctor said she just needs some rest after losing so much blood."

"Good," Liam said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He finally glanced at me, his eyes filled with a deep, chilling indifference. There was no concern, no worry. Just annoyance.

I followed them out of the room, my bare feet cold on the polished hospital floor. I needed to see. They didn't notice me trailing behind them. They stopped in front of a VIP room down the hall. Through the large window in the door, I saw her.

A beautiful, fragile-looking girl was lying in the bed, pale and delicate. Scarlett Hayes. Liam stood by the window, his gaze fixed on her. The coldness on his face melted away, replaced by an expression of such deep love and tenderness that it made my chest feel tight.

He gently pushed the door open and went inside. He sat by her bed, took her hand, and spoke to her in a low, gentle voice. The contrast between how he looked at her and how he looked at me was a chasm.

Then, he looked up and saw me standing in the hallway. His face went back to stone. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He stood in front of me, his height casting a shadow over me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"I..." I didn't know what to say.

He looked me up and down, his gaze filled with disgust. "Scarlett is RH-negative. She lost a lot of blood because of your little performance. The hospital's blood bank is low. You're the same blood type. You will donate blood to her."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

"Now," he added, grabbing my arm. His grip was like iron. He dragged me towards the blood donation center. He didn't care that I was weak, that I was a patient myself. He pushed me into a chair.

"Draw her blood," he told the nurse. "As much as you need for Miss Hayes."

The nurse looked hesitant. "Sir, the patient just regained consciousness. She's not in a condition to donate a large amount of blood."

Liam's eyes turned icy. "I'll take full responsibility. Just do it." He threw a black credit card on the table. "This will cover all expenses and any trouble."

He didn't even look at me. He just turned and walked back toward Scarlett's room, as if I were a piece of equipment he had just ordered for her use.

As the needle entered my arm, I could hear the nurses whispering.

"That's Olivia Reynolds, right? Liam Sterling's wife."

"Yeah. I heard she's obsessed with him. Always causing trouble to get his attention."

"Poor Miss Hayes. She's always the one who suffers. She's so sweet, and she has to deal with a sister-in-law like that."

Their words floated around me, but they didn't hurt. It was strange. Before, words like these would have broken me. I would have cried, despaired, and hated myself. But now, with the memories feeling like a story about someone else, there was only a vast, empty calm inside me. The pain, the desperation, the frantic yearning-it was all gone.

The blood flowed from my arm, a crimson line connecting me to the woman my husband loved. I watched it, detached. This was the price for her scare. My blood.

When it was over, I felt dizzy and light-headed. No one came to help me. I sat there for a while, then slowly stood up and walked back to my empty room. The calmness remained. It was a clarity I had never felt before.

I picked up my phone from the bedside table. I found a number in the contacts. A lawyer.

I pressed the call button.

"Hello," a professional voice answered.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice steady. "And I want to sever all ties with my adoptive parents, the Hayes family."