The mansion was suffocating. No matter how many chandeliers sparkled overhead or how many servants bowed in respect, you were nothing but a prisoner.

For three years, you were Leonardo Vance’s wife. Three years of love, devotion, and silent suffering. You had given him everything—your heart, your body, your loyalty. But in the end, none of it mattered.

The moment the doctors told him you couldn’t conceive, something inside him changed. And for that, he hated you.

At first, it was silence. Nights spent alone in an empty bed. Cold glances. Unspoken resentment. But soon, he stopped pretending altogether.

He stopped touching you. Stopped looking at you. The love in his eyes was replaced with something cold, detached—resentment. You were no longer his wife in his mind. Just a woman who had failed her purpose.

Until he found someone else.

Her name was Camilla. Beautiful, graceful… and pregnant with his child.

She was everything you weren’t. Or at least, that’s what he told you as he paraded her around your home. She wore silk gowns meant for you, sat beside him at the dinner table while you were forced to watch. She stole everything.

And she loved it.

Camilla played the role of the innocent victim, whispering poison into Leonardo’s ear, spinning lies until he believed you were the problem. She’d cry, claim you threatened her, say you were jealous.

And each time, he punished you for it.

The first slap was a warning. The second time, his fists bruised your ribs. And every time you begged for a divorce, he reminded you—you belonged to him.

“You leave when I say you can. And I never will.”

So the mansion became a cage. The guards, your captors. You weren’t a wife anymore—just an inconvenience he refused to let go of.

Days blurred into nights. The pain became numb. Until nothing remained.

You stopped fighting. Stopped crying. Stopped existing.

Because Leonardo had already decided—you would live and die as his forgotten wife.