From Love to Hate, Never Again

“Hubby... I don’t want to be alone. Please, don’t go.”

Anthony hesitated for only a second before smiling helplessly. “Diana, be good. I’m doing this for your own good. Only if you recover can we have another baby in the future, hmm?”

He pried my hands off his arm, turned, and walked away without looking back.

The very next moment, several men in black masks strode in with iron rods glinting in their hands, wearing twisted grins with malice.

One of them kicked my phone away before I could dial for help.

My arms and legs were pinned down.

The heavy rods came crashing down on my abdomen like a relentless rain of steel.

Pain exploded through me; the veins on my forehead throbbed and my vision blurred.

Hot blood gushed beneath me, spreading across the floor.

They didn’t stop until my body convulsed, and I collapsed, trembling in agony.

Thinking I had passed out, one of the men sneered.

“Lucky for us, President Jimenez didn’t want any accidents—and to make sure Ms. Ruiz feels completely at ease—he let us in earlier and hid us in the living room. Otherwise, this woman might have ruined our payday.”

It was the voice of the property manager.

Just before darkness swallowed me whole, a bitter laugh rose in my chest.

Anthony... all to pave the way for your beloved and her child, you really went to great lengths.

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in my bed. The family’s private doctor gave me a pitying look before leaving with a sigh.

Anthony sat by my side, his eyes red as if from crying.

“Diana, I’m sorry. I should’ve checked the locks before I left... That’s how those bastards got in. The police said it might be hard to find them since they were masked, but no matter how hard it is, I’ll hunt them down and make them pay for what they did to you.”

Then his voice softened, almost tender.

“The doctor says your uterus was severely damaged from the blows... you won’t be able to have children again. But don’t worry—even if you can’t bear children, I’ll never despise you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

But I knew—he hadn’t called the police. He had already helped those men leave Amsterdam.

I stared at him blankly, not bothering to expose his lies.

His eyes flicked to his watch, and a trace of impatience crossed his face.

“Diana, there’s an important client I have to meet tonight...”

“I’m fine,” I said flatly. “Go.”

“I knew my wife was the most understanding. Rest well. I’ll come back early to keep you company.”

He pressed a perfunctory kiss on my forehead and left in a rush without looking back.

Ten seconds later, I heard the sound of a door closing upstairs, followed by the laughter of a woman and a child.

Dragging my aching body into the living room, I noticed a phone lying on the sofa—an unfamiliar one. In his hurry to meet his lover, Anthony had forgotten to take it.

In all our years of marriage, I had never known he had another phone.

The passcode was Vanessa’s birthday.

I remembered it clearly—when I had sued her, I’d memorized her personal information.

The Instagram account on this phone had only one contact: Vanessa.

Her name was saved with three emojis—man, heart, woman.

A simple, blatant declaration of love.

The gallery held over ten thousand photos—every single one of them was Anthony, Vanessa, and their child, smiling and embracing.

All those “business trips” of his were trips abroad with them, for shopping, sightseeing, and luxury vacations.

Transfer records of staggering amounts, receipts for designer goods—each one a slap in the face for my stupidity.

Even worse, every night, after my daughter and I were asleep, he would go upstairs to be with Vanessa.

And then I read the messages—each one a blade twisting into my chest.

[Anthony, thank you for turning down that multi-billion contract just to be with me during childbirth. With you here, I’m not afraid of anything...]

[Look at you—it’s not even your first time being a father, yet just to make our son call you ‘daddy’ a few more times, you built him an entire playground?]