Moonless Night, Silent and Still

I had been secretly in love with Falco Wenzel for six years. The night before I finally gathered the courage to confess, someone drugged my drink.

One thing led to another and I ended up spending the night with Falco.

Two months later, I found out I was pregnant. When I told him, he responded with cold indifference, saying he’d “take responsibility.”

But on the day of our wedding, I was blindsided—Falco stood there, holding a marriage certificate with his childhood crush, Yvone Koehler.

I went to confront him, demanding an explanation, but his twin brother, Fynn Schwarzmann, stopped me. And that’s when he dropped a bombshell—he was the one I had been with that night.

Right then and there, Fynn proposed to me.

After we got married, I lost one baby after birth and suffered three miscarriages. The doctors told me my body was too weak to carry a pregnancy to term.

Each time, Fynn was devastated. His eyes would turn red with grief and he would kneel and pray endlessly, begging the heavens to let our next child survive.

This time, I was finally pregnant again. Just as I was about to tell him the good news, I overheard Falco speaking to him:

"Bro, I heard Yosefina went to the hospital again. Why don’t you just trick her into getting a hysterectomy? That way, she won’t keep trying to have kids."

Fynn replied without hesitation, his voice steady and assured, "Relax. The family fortune is only meant for Yvone’s child. No matter how much medicine Yosefina takes, she’ll never give birth to a healthy baby."

I barely had time to process the betrayal before Falco sneered and scoffed,

"Oh, right. Yosefina’s first kid is still in the orphanage, isn’t he? Yvone’s been feeling lonely during her pregnancy—why not bring the kid over and let her have some fun?"

Without a second thought, Fynn agreed. "Fine. That kid is yours anyway. Just don’t let anything happen to him."

Falco laughed coldly.

"She drank that drugged wine and gave birth to a bastard that never should’ve existed. A worthless life like hers—she’d deserve it if she died…"

I couldn’t listen anymore.

From the very beginning, they had set me up.

I walked right into their trap.

My life—and my child’s—had been nothing more than a tool for them to please Yvone.

——

Fynn tossed a photo of a threeyearold onto the table, a flicker of disgust in his eyes.

“This one. I couldn’t even be bothered to name him. The orphanage director calls him Benedict. I saw him last year—starving, skin and bones.”

He let out a cold laugh. “Funny thing is, he actually looks a lot like you did as a kid.”

Falco picked up the photo with a lazy smirk, eyes full of ridicule.

“Just a bastard. A mistake from a onenight stand. I’ll never acknowledge him.”

As he spoke, he carefully unlocked his phone, his gaze softening as he looked at his wallpaper—a stunning woman in a maternity dress, glowing with happiness.

His voice turned gentle. “My child… can only come from Yvone.”

Then, his tone sharpened. “If it weren’t for that night four years ago—if Yosefina hadn’t schemed her way into drinking Jingyi’s wine—how the hell would she have ended up in my bed?”

I started shaking, my body icecold.

That’s not what happened.

Four years ago, I had planned to confess to Falco, but I got nervous and drank a little too much at the banquet.

My eyes had been on him the entire night. I never noticed someone had switched my drink.

I only learned the truth much later: the drugged wine had been meant for Yvone. But she was too busy flirting with some rich heir and by sheer accident, I ended up drinking it instead.

Dizzy and unsteady, I was helped upstairs to a room. Falco, his body burning with feverish heat, pulled me into his arms the moment I walked in.

He thought I was Yvone.

That night, he made me his.

But when morning came and he saw my face, his expression turned icecold. Still, he forced out the words: “I’ll take responsibility.”

Then, on the day of the wedding, I watched as Falco and Yvone held up their marriage certificate for the cameras, smiling like they had just won.

I went to demand an explanation.

But before I could reach him, Fynn—his twin brother—stepped in front of me.

And with a calm, matteroffact tone, he shattered my world.

“The man you were with that night… wasn’t Falco. It was me.”

The baby was Fynn’s too.

Eight months into our marriage, I drank a glass of fresh orange juice. I never expected it to trigger premature labor.

By the time I woke up in the hospital, Fynn was sitting beside me, eyes red, voice trembling as he told me—

Our baby didn’t make it.

The grief hit me so hard I could barely breathe. I sobbed until my body gave out, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Fynn never left my side.

He stayed up all night, holding me, whispering soft reassurances against my skin, pressing gentle kisses to my forehead.

“Fini, it’s okay…”

“We’ll have another one. A second, a third… We’re still young.”

He never let go—not in those first impossible days, not as he helped me claw my way out of the darkness.

But in the years that followed, I lost three more pregnancies.

The doctors said my body was too weak to carry a child to term.

Desperate, Fynn spared no expense, hiring the world’s top private specialists. I thought he was trying to help me.

I never realized that from the very beginning, they had all been working against me.

“Fini, are you home?”

I heard Fynn’s familiar footsteps climbing the stairs, coming closer.

The door creaked open.

His gaze settled on me, warm and gentle as always.

“The driver said you just got back from the hospital.”

“What did the doctor say?”

Then his eyes lifted—landing on the pregnancy report I had left on the table.

I hadn’t even noticed it was still there.

Before I could move, the paper was already in his hands.

His brow furrowed as he read it.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to ask, “I’m pregnant. Aren’t you happy?”

For a moment, Fynn just stared at me.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

A bright, effortless grin—just a little too perfect. Just a little too forced.

"How could I not be happy? Fini, this is incredible! All our efforts have finally paid off—we’re going to have a baby."

Fynn pulled me into his arms, his voice warm, his excitement seemingly genuine.

"I need to call Dr. Kass right away. He’ll make sure you get the best prenatal care."

But even as he held me, I felt it—the stiffness in his body, the hesitation in his touch.

His arms were around me, but his heart wasn’t.

A moment later, he let go, phone already in hand and walked toward his study.

The door didn’t close all the way.

And through the gap, his voice drifted out, low and sharp.

"Dr. Kass, what the hell are you doing?"

"Didn’t I tell you to increase the dosage? She wasn’t supposed to get pregnant—ever. So how the hell did this happen?"

"Fix it. Now. Make sure she loses this baby. Just like before—swap out her meds. Make it look natural."

I pressed my back against the wall, my legs weak beneath me.

And then—I laughed.

Tears burned my eyes as bitter laughter bubbled up from my throat.

So this was my husband.

The man I had loved for three years. The man I had trusted completely.

A moment later, Fynn walked back in, all tenderness and warmth.

He reached for me, steadying me with gentle hands, then knelt down, pressing his ear to my stomach as if listening for our child.

"I need to say hello to our little one," he murmured, voice soft, eyes filled with warmth. "Be good, okay? Don’t give Mommy a hard time."

His tenderness was flawless. His affection, almost convincing.

Almost.

And for the first time, I was truly in awe—not of the man, but of his ability to lie so beautifully.

"Fini, since you're already pregnant, why don’t you take a year off from the university? Focus on resting and taking care of the baby."

Fynn had spent half the day in his study, meticulously putting together a pregnancy care plan. Now, he suddenly looked up and asked me this, his tone casual—almost considerate.

I was a university professor. My schedule was light, just two classes a day.

But I knew the real reason behind his suggestion.

He wanted me under his control. Completely.

Before, I would have agreed without hesitation—probably even felt lucky to have such a thoughtful husband.

But now?

I kept my expression blank and shook my head.

"There’s no need. Who knows if this baby will even make it?"

Fynn studied me for a moment, but when he saw how firm I was, he didn’t push further.

Instead, he simply scheduled a private doctor to come by tomorrow for a checkup.

That night, I locked myself in the study, claiming I needed to prepare for class.

The moment Fynn left, I started searching the fastest I could.

That photo had been hidden deep within the bookshelf, wedged between the layers.

I searched through every shelf, every crevice, until finally—inside a thick, dusty book—I found it.

The moment I pulled it out, my eyes burned with tears.

The little boy in the picture—his nose, his mouth—they were identical to mine when I was a child.

But his eyes… they were unmistakably Falco’s.

From Fynn’s conversation yesterday, all I had managed to gather was that the child was in an orphanage.

But which one? That, I still didn’t know.

The next day, I hosted a family gathering at the villa.

On the surface, it was to celebrate a joyous occasion—both Yvone and I were pregnant, a double blessing for the family.

But in reality, I had only one goal:

To get them to slip up and reveal the orphanage’s location.

Fynn glanced at me, curious. “Why the sudden idea to host a family gathering? I thought you had your checkup scheduled today.”

I smiled. “Yvone is pregnant too. It’s a double celebration—shouldn’t we all come together for it?”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.”

The moment he realized he’d get to see Yvone at the gathering, his mood noticeably lifted.

That morning, he spent an absurd amount of time in front of the mirror, meticulously fixing his hair. He even put on his most expensive, customtailored suit.

Watching him, a memory stirred—

Shortly after we got married, I had stumbled upon Fynn’s secret hideout in the basement.

The room was packed with photo albums, stacks of journals filled with page after page of longing.

Every word, every image—dedicated to one woman.

I had asked him then, “Who is she?”

Fynn’s expression stiffened for a moment before he quickly brushed it off.

"She was my first love."

It was a vague, careless answer, but I didn’t push. Everyone has a past and I had no reason to pry.

I just never imagined that she was Yvone.

By the time I arrived, Falco and Yvone were already seated on the lawn.

Her sixmonth pregnant belly stretched against the fabric of her dress as she loomed over a small boy—no older than three—her voice sharp with disgust.

“You filthy little bastard, are you blind?”

“Do you have any idea how expensive this dress is? Even if I sold your heart and liver, it wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. Maybe I should just cut off your hands so you’ll learn to be more careful.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

The boy’s face—his nose, his mouth—was almost identical to my own when I was his age.

And his eyes… were just like Falco’s.

It was him.

Benedict.

He had been carrying a tray of coffee when, by accident, a few drops spilled onto Yvone’s dress.

For that, she had whipped him.

He lay curled on the ground, trembling, his tiny hands clutching the dirt as he choked out desperate pleas.

“II didn’t mean to!”

“Please, I’m sorry—please don’t hit me!”

Then I saw them.

Scars.

Some old, some fresh. Thin, deliberate slashes across his arms, his legs—marks from a blade. Others were deep, red welts, as if someone had struck him over and over with a whip.

And through it all, Falco stood nearby, watching with nothing but cold amusement.

His lips curled into a smirk.

“Apologize to Aunt Yvone like your life depends on it.”

“If she’s in a good mood, maybe she’ll let you get up.”

“Don’t forget—you only got out of that miserable orphanage because Aunt Yvone was generous enough to bring you here. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll learn to be a good little dog.”

Falco chuckled as he fed Yvone a grape, his gaze filled with indulgence. She leaned into him, basking in his affection, while just a few feet away, a child was being humiliated.

Benedict—only three years old—lowered his head, his small hands clenched into fists. His eyes, far too calm for a boy his age, held a quiet defiance.

Still, he obeyed. He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry.”

Yvone smirked, crossing her arms as she lifted a perfectly manicured foot.

“If you’re really sorry, then prove it. Lick my shoe clean.”

I felt my breath catch.

Benedict hesitated. And then—he actually started leaning forward.

“Stop!” My voice rang out sharp.

In an instant, I stepped between them, pulling Benedict into my arms. My heart pounded as I glared at Yvone, fury blazing in my chest.

“He’s just a child! Have you completely lost your mind?”

I had once called Yvone my friend. My sister.

But the woman standing before me now? She was nothing but a monster.

Yvone tilted her head, amused by my outburst. Her lips curled into a mocking smile.

“Oh, it’s you, sisterinlaw. Relax. He’s just a worthless little orphan, a charity case from the welfare home. No parents, no family—he should be grateful I even let him breathe the same air as me.”

She glanced down at Benedict, then back up at me, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

“Funny, though. The way you’re protecting him like this… Anyone would think he’s your own son.”

Falco’s words carried a sharp edge and he sneered as he spoke.

“Yosefina, who do you think you are?”

“Just because you married my brother doesn’t mean you can control Yvone and me. My brother took our mother’s last name—only the children born from Yvone and me are true Wenzels, the rightful heirs of Wenzel Enterprises.”

“Since when do you have the right to tell Yvone what to do?”

His voice was firm as he ordered me to let go of the child. Benedict, still in my arms, looked up at me gratefully but then took a step back, deliberately keeping some distance.

“Auntie, thank you, but it’s okay.”

“I’m used to this.”

Hearing that, my heart clenched with pain. Without thinking, I flipped the entire table over.

“Yvone, if nothing else, at least show some decency for the sake of the child in your belly. Stop being so cruel.”

Screw this socalled family dinner—I had no interest in playing along with their act any longer. I turned and walked away with Benedict.

But before I could step outside the villa, Fynn stepped in front of me, blocking my path with a cold expression.

“Yosefina, where do you think you’re going?”

I almost forgot—he was one of Yvone’s most loyal lapdogs.

Right on cue, Yvone clung to Fynn’s arm, her voice trembling with false tears. “Brother, I know you love and respect your wife, but this child was just adopted by us—it has nothing to do with her! She flipped the table and scared my baby!”

She dabbed at nonexistent tears, playing the delicate victim as always, instantly drawing sympathy.

Fynn shot me a frosty glare, his voice laced with reprimand. “You were the one who arranged this dinner. Yvone didn’t do anything wrong—she was just trying to discipline the child. Why are you making a scene?”

“Put the child down. Give him back to Yvone.”

I held Benedict tightly in my arms and let out a cold laugh. “No. I’ve taken a liking to this child. I want to adopt him.”

All three of them refused to back down, forcing me to release the child.

But I simply smiled calmly and turned to Yvone. “Yvone, I’d like a word with you in private.”

I led her up to the secondfloor terrace and deliberately provoked her. Enraged and humiliated, she lost control and shoved me off the balcony.

Everyone saw it happen—both in person and on the security cameras. I crashed onto the lawn below. I was alive, but blood poured from my body, unstoppable.

Fynn’s face turned ghostly pale as he rushed to me. “Yosefina, are you okay?”

“Hurry… get me to a hospital!” I could feel something slipping away from me—something I could never get back. Tears blurred my vision as I turned to Yvone, who stood frozen in shock.

“Yvone, you killed my baby. I’m calling the police.”

The moment I said that, Fynn’s expression darkened. “Fini, don’t be rash. Yvone didn’t mean to…”

Falco, however, eyed me with suspicion. “Why would Yvone suddenly push you? That doesn’t make sense. You must be twisting the story.”

“What did you say to set her off this time?”

He studied me with concern, but Yvone refused to meet my gaze. Her face was ashen, her lips tightly sealed.

Then, suddenly, her eyes flickered and she clutched her stomach, her face twisting in pain. “HHoney… hurry… I think I’m going into labor…”

At that, Fynn panicked and sprinted to her side.

“There’s no time to wait for an ambulance! Falco, carry Yvone to the car—I’ll drive her to the hospital myself.”

Falco hesitated for a moment, then glanced back at me.

“What about your wife?”

Fynn didn’t even turn around.

“We don’t have time for that. Yvone comes first.”

“It’s not like this is the first time Yosefina’s had a miscarriage. She’s used to it—she’ll survive.”

“Besides, if she hadn’t fallen from the balcony and scared Yvone, this wouldn’t be happening in the first place…”

As the ambulance rushed me to the hospital, I overheard Fynn speaking.

He was gently comforting Yvone, telling her not to worry and to focus on getting ready for the baby’s arrival.

I had expected this. I had prepared myself for it. But hearing it with my own ears still felt like a knife to the chest.

Then the doctor looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Schwarzmann. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t save the baby.”

I responded evenly, “It’s fine. It was meant to be.”

The doctor went on to explain that I had been on birth control for too long—traces of it still remained in my bloodstream. Even if I had conceived, the risk of miscarriage had always been high.

But from the moment I heard Fynn’s words, I had already decided—this child was never meant to be.

Since it was doomed to be lost, I would make sure it served its final purpose.

When I was discharged, I checked my phone—three missed calls, six unread messages from Fynn.

[Yosefina, things were chaotic the other day. Yvone giving birth was the Wenzels' top priority—I just didn’t have time to think about you.]

[Once I realized, I sent Dr. Kass to the villa to check on you. You’re okay now, right?]

[Just rest and recover at home. Losing this baby isn’t a big deal—we can always have another one…]

I let out a cold laugh.

There would never be another one.

Fynn, we’re finished.

I pulled up my contacts and dialed my principal’s number.

“Sir, is there still an open spot in the overseas teaching program? I’ve made up my mind—I want in.”

On the other end of the line, the principal’s voice lit up with excitement.

“Really? Professor, I’ve always said this program would be perfect for you! The only catch is that you’ll need to live abroad longterm, but for professors like you, this is a fantastic opportunity for career growth…”

I smiled.

“One more thing—I want to bring a child with me.”

With Yvone going into premature labor, she no longer had the time or energy to torment Benedict.

He had been beaten so badly that one of his legs was fractured, his body covered in bruises. They had already sent him back to the orphanage.

When I arrived to process the adoption, the orphanage director held Benedict protectively in her arms, watching me with wary eyes.

“Do you truly want this child? Some people adopt kids just to treat them like animals—beating them, screaming at them. I’d rather raise Benedict myself than hand him over to someone like that.”

I felt a deep gratitude toward her and handed her 7.5 million dollars.

Without her, Benedict might not have survived.

“I’m his biological mother. I’ve come to take my child home.”

The director’s expression shifted—complicated into disdain. "You’re kidding, right? If you really are Benedict’s mother… then I have nothing but disappointment in you."

She looked me over coldly, her gaze sharp and assessing.

“Judging from your get ups, you’re obviously wealthy. How could you be so heartless as to abandon your own child?”

I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head before explaining everything.

“If I hadn’t been lied to, I would have begged on the streets with my child before ever leaving him behind. I would never have let him suffer like this.”

The orphanage director’s expression softened with sympathy, but doubt still lingered in her eyes.

Then Benedict stepped forward and wrapped his arms around mine, his voice warm and trusting.

“Grandma Liliana, I believe her. She helped me before.”

The director sighed, crouching down to meet his gaze.

“Then, do you want to go with Aunt Fini?”

Benedict nodded without hesitation.

“I do.”

The adoption process would take three more days. While waiting, I returned home to pack—only to have Fynn suddenly push the door open and walk in. He frowned and pulled me into his arms, his eyes already red, just like every time before.

I pushed him away without hesitation.

Before I could speak, Fynn broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Fini. I just spoke with Dr. Kass… He told me you have uterine fibroids and need surgery to have them removed.”

Before I could say a word, he was already drowning in guilt.

“It’s all my fault for not taking better care of you. I swear, once your surgery is over, I’ll take you on a world tour. How about that?”

I calmly took the medical report from him, but inside, I let out a cold laugh.

Fynn had gone to such great lengths to make sure I could never have children—going as far as arranging for my uterus to be removed.

But I couldn’t even be bothered to argue anymore. “Alright, whatever you say.”

It didn’t matter. In three days, Benedict and I would be gone for good.

Fynn looked up at me in disbelief, then, as if suddenly relieved, his eyes lit up with joy. He took my hand.

“Fini, I swear I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life. I won’t let you suffer, not even a little…”

But I was done playing along. I pulled my hand away and turned toward my room.

“I’m tired. I’m going to rest.”

Fynn didn’t press me. He had his hands full anyway, busy preparing baby supplies for Yvone’s child.

I’d heard Yvone had given birth to a big, healthy baby boy. Falco and Fynn were ecstatic, running around making arrangements.

Three days later, after settling everything, I took Benedict to the airport and boarded a flight overseas.

That evening, Fynn received a call from his private doctor.

He smiled, confident. “Dr. Kass, the surgery went well, didn’t it?”

But the voice on the other end was panicked. “Mr. Schwarzmann, there must be some mistake! I waited all day, but Madam never showed up! And—you need to turn on the TV right now!”

On the screen, the evening news was broadcasting a breaking story.

[This afternoon, a woman jumped off Dreamland Bridge. The police have been searching all day, but there’s been no sign of her…]