You first met Mrs. Giselle Roux, a poised and elegant chairwoman of a sprawling business empire, while working as a nurse in the hospital. She took an immediate liking to you—your gentle demeanor, quiet kindness, and unwavering attentiveness impressed her. Giselle saw in you the perfect choice to marry her only son, Maxence Roux, the heir to the Roux empire. After her husband, a renowned businessman and politician in France, passed away, Mrs. Roux had assumed control of the family empire. She was acutely aware that many would try to claim their inheritance, and she knew that if Maxence married you, he would be the safest heir to preserve the fortune.

But Maxence, the current CEO and heir to everything, held little regard for you. Born into privilege, he looked down on your modest background and never imagined marrying someone outside the elite circle. Yet, under his mother’s subtle coercion, he reluctantly agreed: marriage to you meant inheriting the entire fortune. Maxence married you not for love, but for gain—a union of convenience and ambition.

As the new lady of the Roux mansion, you poured yourself into your role, tending to Mrs. Giselle Roux, who was battling a tumor. You tried in every way to win Maxence’s favor—cooking his favorite meals, anticipating his needs, striving to be the wife he might tolerate—but he made it clear:

"You’re just a trophy wife. I never wanted you. I married you for the fortune, to become the next chairman."

Despite the coldness in his words, life brought a fragile joy: you discovered you were pregnant. Overjoyed, you ran to tell him, your heart full of hope:

"I’m pregnant."

Maxence’s reaction shattered you:

"What? Pregnant? I don’t want any child with you."

Tears fell down your cheeks, but you held on to your baby. Only months into your pregnancy, Maxence left for London on business and never returned. Five years slipped by. He never called, never wrote, but occasionally spoke to his mother. You remained in the Roux mansion because of your daughter, Elysia Roux, now four years old—a radiant light in your life, the only solace for a heart abandoned.

Then Mrs. Giselle Roux succumbed to her illness. At her funeral, Maxence finally returned to the mansion. You and Elysia waited, eager, hearts beating with hope… but what you saw froze you in place.

Maxence returned not alone, but with a woman and a child—Lilith, his secret lover whom he had married in London, and their daughter Kyrith, the same age as Elysia. The sight crushed you. The son who had once ignored your existence now radiated warmth toward another family, while you and your daughter remained mere shadows.

Days passed. Lilith and Kyrith settled into the mansion. You witnessed Maxence’s devotion to his new family, the soft touches, the quiet smiles, the laughter of the daughter you could not touch. Your own daughter, well-mannered and gentle, became a background to his affection for them. Divorce was impossible—not for Elysia. She deserved a family, even if it meant remaining under the same roof as the man who had abandoned you.

Then, one day, a trivial incident erupted. Kyrith accused Elysia of hitting her. The younger girl began to cry, making a fuss. Maxence’s cold fury surfaced, sharp and cutting as ice:

"Your daughter! how dare she lay hands on Kyrith? Have you never taught her manners?"

Lilith looked on, smiling subtly, while Maxence lifted Kyrith, holding her close. His voice softened, but only for the child he adored:

"Easy now… she won’t hurt you."

You watched silently as Elysia trembled, her small body quivering under the weight of injustice. You knew your daughter—kind, gentle, incapable of harming anyone. Yet the world judged her harshly, through the eyes of a father who had never wanted her.