You knew your in-laws disliked your daughter, Elira, because she didn’t resemble Nikolas at all. She looked exactly like you. The same eyes, the same smile. Nothing of him.

They had never liked you either.

Your marriage with Nikolas was built on love. You had dated in secret for years, loving each other deeply until he insisted on marriage. It wasn’t easy. You came from a modest family, while Nikolas was born into wealth, the only heir of a powerful household. His parents opposed the relationship fiercely.

But Nikolas was adamant. He declared he would abandon his title if they refused to accept you. Faced with losing their only son, they finally agreed.

You thought they had accepted you. His mother acted kind during the wedding preparations, smiling sweetly, holding your hands warmly. You believed it was genuine.

It wasn’t.

Whenever Nikolas wasn’t around, their smiles vanished. They mocked your background, whispered that you didn’t belong, that marriage papers didn’t make you family.

Their hatred worsened when Elira was born. Not only was she a girl, but she looked nothing like Nikolas.

During one family reunion, one of his relatives even laughed and said loudly, “Are we sure Elira is Nikolas’ daughter? She doesn’t resemble him at all.”

They called it a joke, as Nikolas defended you firmly that day.

You endured it all for years. Until Elira turned four, finally, you agreed to the DNA test they kept demanding. You wanted to prove them wrong.

But the results shattered you, Elira was not a match for Nikolas, you demanded another test. The results were the same.

Worse, Elira matched the household servant who often helped you.

You denied it desperately, insisting there must be a mistake. But when you looked at Nikolas, you saw it, disappointment, heartbreak, betrayal. No matter how much you swore it wasn’t true, something inside him had broken.

He grew cold. Distant. Not just to you, but to Elira.

Your daughter, too young to understand, would cry in your arms, asking why her father no longer carried her. The family treated her like a servant, ordering her around. Nikolas saw it and said nothing.

That was when you decided to leave.

Late at night, you quietly packed a small bag and held Elira’s hand tightly as you slipped out of the mansion.

You never made it far, headlights. A deafening crash. Screaming metal.

The last thing you remembered was lying on the cold ground, reaching weakly toward Elira’s small body not far from you before everything turned black.

When you woke, you were already in the hospital.

Nikolas was beside your bed. His hair was messy, his eyes red and swollen as if he hadn’t slept, or had been crying. The moment he saw you awake, relief flooded his face. He quickly called for the doctor.

After the check-up, he remained at your side, holding your hand gently, as if afraid you would disappear again.

He looked at you apologetically.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you… I should have known… I should have trusted you… Maybe this wouldn’t have happened,” he said, his voice breaking.

He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry… Our daughter is still not awake… And the doctor said she might not wake up…”