You Dumped Me Once, Now a Stronger Wife

"You're such a bitch!"

The slap came out of nowhere. My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging from the impact. I blinked rapidly, trying to process what just happened. Gerard—my fiancé, the man I was supposed to marry—had just hit me.

My breath caught in my throat as I lifted a shaking hand to my face. My lips parted, but no words came out. I couldn't understand. Why? What did I do wrong?

And then, Gerard threw something onto the coffee table in front of me. A photograph.

I reached for it with trembling fingers, my heart hammering in my chest. As soon as my eyes landed on the image, my stomach twisted into knots. It was a picture of me at a club, dancing with another man. My body was close to his, my arm loosely draped around his shoulders. My face was flushed, eyes halflidded, obviously intoxicated.

I gasped softly. I remembered that night. I was with my best friend, Dianna. We had gone out for drinks, and she had introduced me to a few of her friends. I barely even remembered dancing.

"Gerard, this isn't what you think—"

"Don't lie to me!" he barked, his hands curling into fists. His face was twisted in rage, eyes burning with betrayal. "You think you can cheat on me and get away with it?"

"I'm not cheating on you!" I pleaded, taking a shaky step toward him. "I was drunk! I don't even know who that guy is! Please, you have to believe me!"

His expression darkened. "You're lying."

I shook my head desperately. "I'm not! Gerard, we're getting married! Why would I do something like that?"

His jaw tightened. "Maybe because you're mad at me. Maybe you wanted revenge because I refused to make our relationship public."

I opened my mouth to argue, but his words made me hesitate. A part of me was upset about that. Our wedding was supposed to be a surprise event, and while Gerard assured me that people would be happy for us, I hated the secrecy. But would I ever betray him? No. Never.

Before I could say anything else, Gerard grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the room.

"Gerard, what are you doing?!" I screamed, struggling against his grip.

He didn't answer. He pulled me through the hallway, his grip bruising my skin, and yanked open a door. My eyes widened in horror as I realized where he was taking me.

The basement.

"Gerard, no! Please!" I begged, trying to twist free.

But he was too strong. He shoved me inside, and before I could react, the heavy door slammed shut behind me.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I pounded against the door, my breaths coming out in frantic gasps. "Gerard, let me out! Please!"

There was no response. Only the sound of his footsteps fading away.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I slid down against the cold concrete wall. What was happening? How did things escalate so quickly? Just last week, we were talking about honeymoon destinations. Now, I was locked in a basement, treated like a criminal.

I hugged my knees to my chest, my entire body trembling. I had never seen this side of him before.

How could someone change so suddenly?

Hours passed. Maybe even a whole day. I lost track of time. I was exhausted, starving, and emotionally drained. But then, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I sucked in a sharp breath. My phone.

With shaky hands, I pulled it out and saw a message from my doctor.

We need to talk about your test results. Please come in as soon as possible.

My heart skipped a beat. I had gone to the hospital a few days ago because I wasn’t feeling well. I thought it was just stress.

Clutching my phone, I swallowed hard. I needed to get out of here.

The next time Gerard brought me food, I was ready. The moment he unlocked the door, I shoved past him with all my strength and ran.

I didn’t look back.

I ran until my legs ached, until my lungs burned, until I reached a taxi stand. I jumped into the first cab I saw and gave the driver the hospital’s address.

By the time I reached the clinic, I was out of breath, my heart pounding in my ears. I burst into my doctor’s office, barely able to form words.

Dr. Farah. My OBGYN.

She gave me a warm smile. “Sarah, I was just about to call you again.”

I nodded quickly. “What… what’s wrong with me?”

She reached for a folder, opened it, and handed me a piece of paper. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Sarah. You’re pregnant.”

Pregnant.

The word echoed in my head, but it didn’t seem real.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Pregnant? Me?

Dang! I remembered that a steamy night happened to me and Gerard in the past few days.

The doctor smiled. “Congratulations.”

I forced myself to nod, to smile, to act like I was happy. But deep inside, my stomach churned. How could I bring a child into this world when my fiancé just locked me in a basement?

I made up my mind. I wouldn’t tell Gerard. For months, everything I knew about him changed.

He was cold to me. Always hurts me. And I don't know... I don't know the reason.

For months, I kept it a secret. I wore loose clothing, avoided his touch, and pretended everything was fine. But my best friend, Stephanie, noticed once.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” she whispered one day, her eyes wide with shock.

I froze, my hand instinctively covering my stomach.

She grabbed my hands. “Sarah, you have to leave him.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “I know.”

“I’ll help you.”

I exhaled shakily, nodding.

But then, something hit me. Stephanie… she was the one who sent Gerard the picture of me at the club.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why did you do it?”

She stiffened. “What?”

“You sent him that picture.”

She hesitated. “He asked me to. Sarah, I was scared! He threatened to ruin my career if I didn’t tell him where you were. That's why I wanna help you now. Please let me."

I nodded.

Before we could argue, she grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s go before he finds out.”

I hesitated. Something felt off.

Still, I followed her. She promised to drive me to the airport so I could leave the country.

But as we drove, I noticed the way she avoided my questions. She wasn’t making sense, contradicting herself every time I asked about Gerard.

Then, suddenly, she reached for the air conditioning controls. A strange scent filled the car.

My instincts screamed at me.

I moved to roll down the window, but before I could, Stephanie leaned over—

And I felt a sharp prick in my arm.

My breath hitched.

The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was the road ahead blurring as the car swerved wildly.

And then, everything went black.

I woke up with a pounding headache, my body aching as if I had been run over by a truck. The room was dimly lit, unfamiliar. Panic surged through me as I pushed myself up from the soft mattress. My throat felt dry, my heart racing. Where am I?

I scanned the room—plain white walls, a small window with thick curtains drawn shut, and a locked door. I rushed toward it, jiggling the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

Trapped.

Fear tightened around my chest. The last thing I remembered was Stephanie drugging my drink at the party. I had trusted her. She was my best friend. Why would she do this to me?

Hours passed. My stomach churned with hunger, and my lips were parched. Just as I was about to scream for help, the door creaked open. Stephanie walked in, carrying a tray of food.

Anger flared inside me. The moment she stepped closer, I slapped her across the face, my palm stinging from the impact.

"Why the hell did you do this to me?!" My voice trembled with rage.

Stephanie barely flinched. She simply touched her cheek, then smirked, lifting her left hand. A silver ring gleamed on her index finger.

My breath hitched. "What… what is that?"

She took a deep breath, her expression unreadable. "I’m married, Sarah. To Gerard."

The words hit me like a freight train. My mind refused to process it. "No. That’s not possible. You’re lying."

Stephanie tilted her head, almost amused. "It’s been a month since we got married."

Everything inside me froze. My ears rang, and my vision blurred for a moment. "No… He was supposed to marry me."

"He changed his mind," she said simply. "After the pictures of you at the club surfaced, he realized you would ruin his image. His company. He couldn't take the risk."

My legs wobbled, forcing me to grip the edge of the bed. I had been framed. But what hurt the most wasn’t that Gerard had left me—it was that I had actually loved him. Even if our engagement had been arranged, even if I once hated the idea, I grew to care for him. And now… he was gone.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "Then why the hell am I here? Why not just let me go?"

Stephanie’s expression hardened. She placed the tray on the bedside table and crossed her arms. "Because you’re carrying his child."

A sharp chill ran down my spine. I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach. "What?"

"Gerard doesn’t know," she continued, her tone eerily calm. "And he never will. You’re getting an abortion, Sarah."

My blood ran cold. "No."

Stephanie’s eyes darkened. "You don’t have a choice."

"Take everything," I spat, my voice breaking. "Take my wealth, take Gerard, take it all! Just… don’t take my baby."

It was the only thing I had left of him. The last piece of my shattered life.

Stephanie’s face twisted with anger. She grabbed the tray of food and threw it at me. The plate shattered, food splattering onto the floor. Without another word, she stormed out, locking the door behind her.

Days turned into weeks. I had lost count of how many times she came to torment me, throwing cruel words, trying to break me. But I held on. For my baby.

Then, one night, the door opened again. But this time, it wasn’t Stephanie.

Three men entered, their faces unreadable. Before I could react, one grabbed my arms, another tied my wrists with thick rope, and the third slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth.

I thrashed, screamed against the tape, but my muffled cries were useless. They dragged me out of the room, down a dimly lit hallway, and into a black van.

The drive felt endless. My stomach twisted in fear. When we finally stopped, they hauled me out, and I realized where we were.

A clinic.

My knees buckled. No. No. No

They pulled me inside, straight to a cold metal operating table. I struggled, but they strapped me down. My body trembled as a man in a white coat stepped forward—the doctor.

I could barely breathe as he removed the duct tape. Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded, "Please… don’t do this."

The doctor ignored me, scribbling on a clipboard.

Desperation clawed at my throat. "What if it was your wife? What if someone did this to her?" My voice wavered, raw with emotion. "Would you let them?"

He paused. His grip on the pen tightened. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face.

"Please," I whispered. "You can fake it. Say you did it, but don’t hurt my baby."

Silence.

Then, in a hushed voice, he said, "I’ll do it."

Relief flooded me.

The doctor turned to the men. "She needs rest after the procedure. If you move her too soon, she could hemorrhage."

One of the men scoffed. "Stephanie wants proof."

"You’ll have it."

They hesitated, then nodded and left the room.

The doctor worked quickly, setting up the scene—disposing of tools, smearing a bit of blood for authenticity. When the men returned, they inspected me, unconscious—or at least, pretending to be.

"She’s weak," the doctor said firmly. "You move her now, she could die."

One of the men grumbled but relented. As soon as they turned away, the doctor pulled a syringe from his pocket and, in one swift motion, jabbed it into the nearest man's neck.

The man staggered before collapsing. The others barely had time to react before he injected them too. Within minutes, they were all unconscious.

The doctor rushed to untie me. "We need to go."

I was shaking too much to stand, but he supported me, halfcarrying me out of the clinic. Before leaving, he disabled the security cameras.

Outside, he shoved me into a car and sped off. My entire body was trembling. "Who… who are you?"

He kept his eyes on the road. "Dr. Dior Veneracion."

Dr. Veneracion took me to his house, a secluded place far from the city. There, I met his daughter, Lizzy. At first, she was distant, wary. But over the weeks, she warmed up to me.

One night, as I watched the stars from the balcony, I heard soft sobs. I turned and found Dr. Veneracion standing by the railing, his shoulders shaking.

"Doctor?" I stepped closer. "What’s wrong?"

His hands curled into fists. Then, in a broken voice, he whispered,

"Gerard Faulino… killed my wife."

I stared at Dr. Dior Veneracion, his name now carrying a weight I never expected. His wife… killed because of Gerard? It didn’t make sense at first. Why would he blame my exfiancé? How did the pieces fit together?

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "How… how is Gerard responsible for your wife’s death?"

Dior’s hands clenched on the balcony railing, knuckles turning white. He took a deep breath before turning to me, his dark eyes clouded with something deeper than anger—grief.

"My wife was an investor in Faulino Medical Corporation," he started, his voice steady but laced with pain. "She believed in Gerard’s vision, trusted him. But then, millions went missing from the company’s funds. They needed a scapegoat." He let out a bitter laugh. "And who better than a woman who had no power to fight back?"

My stomach twisted. I remembered that scandal. It had been all over the news when Gerard and I were still together. Back then, I hadn’t thought much of it—I was too wrapped up in my own world, too in love to notice the destruction he left in his wake.

"She tried to prove her innocence," Dior continued, rubbing a hand over his face. "She had documents, evidence… but before she could speak out, she was found dead in her office. 'Suicide'—that’s what they called it." His jaw tightened. "But I know better. She would never have left our daughter like that. Gerard made sure she was silenced."

My hands trembled as I processed his words. The Gerard I once loved—the man who had abandoned me without a second thought—was capable of something far worse than betrayal. He had destroyed lives.

I met Dior’s gaze. "We can’t let him get away with this."

His eyes flickered with surprise.

"I want revenge," I said, my voice stronger this time. "For you. For me. For our children." I placed a hand on my stomach. "Gerard took everything from us. He ruined my life. He took your wife. We deserve justice."

For a long moment, Dior just stared at me. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Then let’s do it."

The days blurred into weeks, and I found myself adjusting to life in hiding. Dior’s house was tucked away in a quiet town, far from the chaos of the city. No reporters, no threats. Just peace.

Lizzy, his daughter, became my little shadow. At first, she kept her distance, her big brown eyes watching me with suspicion. But eventually, she warmed up. I read her bedtime stories, braided her hair, and in return, she clung to me like I was the only safe thing in her world.

For the first time in months, I felt safe.

But that peace was fragile. The world outside wasn’t quiet. News had spread—Stephanie had twisted the story, painting Dior as my kidnapper. There were posters, news segments, online posts demanding my "rescue."

I laughed bitterly as I watched the headlines. "They really want to turn you into a villain, huh?" I glanced at Dior, who sat beside me on the couch, flipping through news articles.

He smirked. "Let them try. They’ll never find us."

And they didn’t. Months passed, and during that time, my belly grew. Dior was there for every moment, taking me to secret medical appointments, making sure I had everything I needed. He never once treated me like a burden.

Then, one rainy night, the contractions hit.

Pain shot through my stomach, sharp and unbearable. I gasped, gripping the sheets. "Dior—!"

Within seconds, he was at my side. "It’s time," he said, his voice calm but urgent. "Let’s get you to the clinic."

Hours of agony followed, but when I finally heard my baby’s first cry, the pain melted away.

"A boy," Dior murmured, placing the tiny, squirming newborn in my arms.

Tears blurred my vision. "Seung," I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Seung Veneracion."

Dior’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. He nodded. "A strong name."

We had made a deal before my labor—Seung would take Dior’s last name. A layer of protection, a new identity to shield him from Gerard’s reach. It was the only way.

Months passed again, and I watched as Dior naturally stepped into the role of a father. He held Seung like he was something fragile, like he couldn’t believe he was real. Lizzy adored her "little brother," always watching over him, protective and fierce.

It was a strange little family we had built. Unconventional, born from tragedy and secrets. But it was ours.

Then, one night, Dior approached me with an unexpected request.

"I need your help," he said, standing at my bedroom door.

I sat up from the bed, confused. "With what?"

He hesitated, then sighed. "We need to clear my name. The only way to do that is by making the world believe we were together all along."

I blinked. "You want to fake a relationship?"

He nodded. "It’s the only way to shift the narrative. If the world believes you willingly stayed with me… they’ll stop hunting us."

I chewed on my lip. It made sense. The only way to take control of the situation was to rewrite the story ourselves.

"Fine," I said. "I’ll do it."

Days later, Dior invited me to a grand charity event—a perfect stage to manipulate public perception. I dressed the part, slipping into an elegant black gown, my hair swept into a simple updo.

As we arrived, cameras flashed, reporters whispering excitedly. The rumors had already spread—Sarah Lin, the lost heiress, appearing in public for the first time with the infamous Dr. Dior Veneracion.

Dior’s hand found my waist as we entered the ballroom. He leaned down, whispering, "Are you ready for this?"

I took a deep breath, nodding. "Let’s do it."

The event was a blur of socializing, polite smiles, and wellrehearsed lines. Then, as the night was coming to an end, Dior suddenly took the microphone.

The room fell silent. Every eye was on him.

I stiffened as he cleared his throat, his voice calm and authoritative.

"I know the rumors," he began. "And I know the lies that have been told about me. But tonight, I want to set the record straight." He turned to me, his gaze unreadable.

My breath caught.

"Sarah Lin is not my hostage," he continued. "She is my love."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The reporters scrambled, their pens flying across their notepads. My body froze.

Then, before I could react, Dior lowered himself onto one knee.

My heart stopped.

A velvet box appeared in his hand, the diamond inside catching the light.

"Sarah," he said, his voice steady but filled with something dangerously real. "Marry me."

The world blurred around me, the weight of a thousand eyes pressing against my skin.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Or was it?

I said yes.

Maybe it was the flashing cameras, the weight of the moment, or the desperation in Dior’s eyes that pushed me to do it. Or maybe, deep down, I knew this was the only way.

Two days later, his name was finally cleared. News headlines changed overnight, shifting from "Dr. Dior Veneracion: The Criminal in Hiding" to "A Love Story Against All Odds—Doctor and Heiress Reunited." The public ate it up, painting us as starcrossed lovers who had been misunderstood all along.

But I knew better. This was just the beginning.

Because if there was one person who wouldn't let this slide, it was Stephanie.

I could feel it in my bones—she wasn’t done. She was out there, plotting, searching for us. And it was only a matter of time before she found a way to strike.

I barely had time to adjust to my new role as Dior’s fiancée when trouble knocked—literally.

It was late, the house quiet except for the soft hum of the baby monitor. I was in the nursery, watching over Seung and Lizzy as they slept, when a sharp knock echoed through the house.

My stomach dropped.

Dior reached the door first, peering through the peephole before muttering a curse.

"Police," he said under his breath.

My heart pounded. "What? Why?"

Before he could answer, the knocking turned aggressive, followed by a firm voice.

"Dr. Dior Veneracion, open the door. We have a warrant for your arrest."

Panic flared through me. "This doesn’t make sense! Your name was cleared—"

Dior shot me a warning look. "Stay with the kids," he ordered.

Like hell, I would.

I followed him as he unlocked the door, revealing three officers, their expressions blank but firm.

"We're taking you in for theft and fraud," one of them announced.

"What?!" I stepped forward, my voice sharp. "On what grounds?"

"The investigation has been reopened," the officer replied. "New evidence has surfaced."

Bullshit.

I turned to Dior, my hands trembling. "This is a setup."

He sighed, as if he had been expecting this. "I know."

Before I could argue, he gently squeezed my hand. "You need to stay here. Lizzy and Seung need you."

"But—"

"I’ll be back." His eyes held a quiet promise. "I need you to trust me."

Everything in me wanted to fight, to stop them from taking him. But I couldn’t.

So, I nodded. And I let him go.

Lizzy didn’t understand at first.

She kept asking where her dad was, her big brown eyes filled with fear. I did my best to reassure her, even though my own heart was in shambles.

"Your dad’s strong," I told her, running my fingers through her soft curls. "Nothing bad will happen to him."

I don’t know if I was trying to convince her or myself.

Then, one night, as I tucked her into bed, she suddenly wrapped her little arms around me.

"I love you, Mommy."

My breath hitched.

Mommy.

The word settled deep inside me, warm and unexpected. She had never called me that before.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and hugged her tightly. "I love you too, Lizzy."

At that moment, I knew—I wasn’t just fighting for revenge anymore. I was fighting for this family we had built, no matter how unconventional it was.

And that meant I needed to act fast.

The next morning, I made my first move.

If Stephanie was involved in this, she wouldn’t stop at just Dior. She’d come for me next. And worse—for Lizzy and Seung.

I needed help.

Through an underground agency, I hired a nanny—someone I could trust to watch over the kids while I handled things. And as luck would have it, the woman I found wasn’t just any nanny.

She was a former police intel.

"You can relax," she assured me after I told her everything. "No one’s touching those kids under my watch."

With that settled, I went after Dior.

Finding him wasn’t hard.

He was being held at a precinct just outside the city, in a dimly lit room that smelled of sweat and damp cement.

And when I saw him, rage burned through me like wildfire.

His face was a mess—bruises blooming across his cheekbone, a split lip, fresh cuts on his knuckles.

I stormed toward him. "Who did this to you?"

He exhaled heavily, leaning back against the cold wall. "Inmates. Seems like I’m not very popular in here."

I clenched my fists. "Did the cops let it happen?"

His silence was enough of an answer.

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady my anger. "We need to get you out of here."

Dior’s jaw tightened. "No. You need to leave."

I frowned. "What?"

"It’s too dangerous, Sarah," he said, his voice low but urgent. "If they’re coming after me, they’ll come after you too. And if they can’t get to you…" His eyes darkened. "They’ll go after the kids."

My blood ran cold.

"Go back to them," he continued. "Protect them. That’s the only thing that matters now."

I shook my head. "No. We started this together—"

"And we’ll finish it," he cut in. "But not if you get yourself caught."

A lump formed in my throat.

I didn’t want to leave him.

But I knew he was right.

I had to make a choice.

Stay and fight alongside him…

Or run back to protect the family we had built.

My feet refused to move, my heart battling against my mind. But then, from the corner of my eye, I saw something—an officer watching us too closely, gripping his radio like he had just received an order. My chest tightened. It was now or never.

I clung to Dior’s promise like a lifeline.

He would make it out of there. He had to.

I didn’t want to leave him behind, but I knew I had no choice. So I forced myself to walk away, trusting his words, believing that somehow—against all odds—he would survive.

I drove through the empty streets, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The night was eerily quiet, the darkness pressing in around me.

But the moment I turned the corner onto our street, dread coiled in my stomach like a snake.

The gate was wide open.

The guards—both of them—were lying motionless on the ground.

Cold fear spiked through my veins.

I slammed on the brakes and ran inside, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Seung! Lizzy!" I called out, my voice echoing through the house.

Silence.

My chest tightened as I sprinted up the stairs, throwing open doors, searching desperately.

They were gone.

Everything inside me shattered.

I dropped to my knees in the middle of the chaos, my screams tearing through the air.

Not again.

I had promised to protect them. I had sworn I wouldn’t let anything happen to them.

And now… they were gone.

Tears blurred my vision, my mind spinning with a million thoughts. Who took them? Where were they? Were they safe?

I was so lost in my panic that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me.

Not until I felt the cold metal press against the back of my head.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned my head, my heart hammering against my ribs.

And there she was.

Stephanie.

Her smirk was cold, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"Miss me?"

I didn’t get the chance to respond.

She swung the gun, striking the side of my head. Pain exploded in my skull, and the world went black.

When I woke up, everything was dark.

A single dim light flickered overhead, barely illuminating the concrete walls around me.

My head throbbed, and when I tried to move, I realized my wrists were tied behind my back.

Stephanie was standing in front of me, arms crossed, watching me like a predator studying its prey.

She sighed dramatically. "You really are stubborn, aren’t you?"

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and raw. "Where are the kids?"

Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Oh, now you care?"

"Where. Are. They?" I ground out, my voice shaking with rage.

Stephanie chuckled. "Relax. Lizzy’s not even your kid."

Her words struck a nerve, but I didn’t let her see it. I kept my glare steady, refusing to let her rattle me.

But then something changed in her expression.

She tilted her head. "Wait… you actually think I took them? So dumb! That is the reason why I kidnapped you."

A cold chill ran down my spine.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "I had my men ready to grab them, but when we got to your house, all my guys were dead."

I blinked. "What?"

"Someone got to them before I did," she said, her tone laced with frustration.

For the first time since I woke up, something inside me flickered—hope.

If it wasn’t Stephanie… then who?

And were the kids safe?

Days passed.

Maybe weeks.

I lost track of time in that dark, hellish prison.

Stephanie made sure I suffered.

She starved me, taunted me, let her men shove me around. They never killed me—no, that would be too easy.

She wanted me broken.

But I refused to give her the satisfaction.

Every bruise, every cut, every cruel word only fueled the fire inside me.

I wasn’t going to die in this place.

I was going to survive.

For Dior.

For Lizzy and Seung.

For revenge.

And then, one night, everything changed.

It started with the sound of tires screeching outside.

Then came the shouting.

Gunfire.

Panic erupted in the warehouse as men scrambled for their weapons.

Stephanie cursed under her breath. "What the hell—?"

Before she could finish, the door burst open.

Cops.

A fullblown raid.

Chaos exploded around us.

Stephanie bolted, vanishing into the shadows before anyone could catch her.

I barely registered anything until strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

"Ma’am, are you hurt?"

A police officer.

I let out a shaky breath, my body slumping in exhaustion.

I was safe.

They took me straight to the police station.

I was too weak to sit up, too exhausted to process everything.

But then I saw her.

The nanny.

Except… she wasn’t just a nanny.

She was wearing a uniform now, her posture straight and confident.

She smiled at me. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

I stared, my brain struggling to catch up. "Who…?"

"Gretta Royce," she introduced herself. "Undercover investigator."

My heart nearly stopped.

"Wait… so you—?"

"I was assigned to watch you," she admitted. "But then things changed. The night you left to see Dior, a group of armed men stormed your house."

My stomach twisted. "And the kids—?"

She smiled. "Safe."

Relief crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I let out a shaky breath, tears prickling my eyes. Without thinking, I reached out and hugged her. "Thank you."

She hesitated for a moment before patting my back awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all emotional on me."

I pulled back, laughing weakly.

Then I frowned. "But where are they? I need to see them."

Gretta’s expression turned serious.

"Don’t worry," she said. "They're in a safe place. For now."

I froze.

"For now?"

She exhaled, studying me carefully. "This isn't over, Sarah. Those kids are still in danger. Stephanie and her people won’t stop hunting them."

A cold chill ran down my spine.

"Which is why," Gretta continued, "we need your help."

I swallowed. "Help with what?"

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping lower.

"To expose Mrs. Faulino. You are once close with her, right?"

My breath caught. Everything inside me screamed to say yes. But I knew—this mission wouldn’t just put me in danger. It would put the kids at risk too. Could I really do this? Could I really take them down once and for all?

“WWhat? Why?" I asked with a shaking voice.

I don't understand. Is it about Dior's wife?

I just followed my gaze on her as she opened the drawer in front of her and then my eyes widened as she pulled stack of papers. A documentaries of Stephanie Faulino's crime I didn't know she had commited.

DAMN HER!

I stared on the papers, didn't have the courage to browse through it one by one.

“Your exbest friend is allegedly a suspect for human trafficking. Our intel is stating that he is also in charge of transactions for illegal weapons..."

My breath hitched. “DDamn!" I whispered to myself.

“Oh, you didn't know that? According to our intel group, your father, Mr. Lin is part of it. Have a look on the last page of those papers, please."