I Saved My Husband, He Repaid Me With Betrayal—So I Faked My Death

Inside the temple, Rafael knelt devoutly on a prayer mat, palms pressed together.

"Dad, Mom... I've been busy lately and haven't had time to bring Camille to visit you."

"So much has happened. I've failed the promise I made to you."

"Enough. Stop talking."

Camille's voice was cold, slicing through his words. "My parents don't need to hear your filth."

Guilt flickered across Rafael's face, but he pressed on, swearing solemnly, "I will never hurt you again. If I do, may I die a terrible death."

How many times had she heard such hollow vows? She had already lost count. Now, they only made her sick.

"Well, well, Miss Hudson, you're here to burn incense too?"

Katherine's voice rang out mockingly as she walked in. "Since I'm here, I should at least pay my respects to the Hudson elders."

Camille's face darkened. She clenched her jaw and spat out a single word, "Leave."

Feigning innocence, Katherine's tone was vicious. "Why so hostile? I wasn't the one who killed your parents. Who even cares about bowing to two dead people anyway? I'd be afraid of catching their bad—ah!"

The crack of a slap cut her off. Camille's palm struck hard, sending Katherine sprawling onto the floor.

"You—you dare hit me?!" she screeched. "Rafael! Are you just going to let her do that?"

Without shame, she clung to him in front of everyone, demanding his protection.

But instead of support, Rafael snapped at her, "Didn't you hear her? Get out! Do you think this is a place for your nonsense?"

A guard hauled Katherine away, her protests echoing through the temple.

Rafael glanced at Camille's stony expression, guilt twisting inside him.

"She's pregnant. Her words are harsh, but don't take them to heart. Let me stay and chant with you."

Camille drew a deep breath. She would not let a petty woman like Katherine taint her prayers.

She forced herself to ignore it. But less than ten minutes later, Rafael's phone rang.

A guard reported that Katherine was clutching her belly in pain after leaving the temple.

"What?! Take her to the hospital—I'll be right there!"

Without a backward glance, he rushed out, leaving Camille alone.

She stared at the abandoned scripture on the floor. Her face was calm, but her chest ached with bitterness.

When her parents had first passed, Rafael had come to this temple every month.

One thousand steps, one thousand prostrations.

He had copied sutras in his own blood, recited prayers day and night for years without pause.

Once, even when sick, he refused to rest—collapsing in the prayer hall.

Camille cried by his hospital bed, begging him to stop. But he only smiled faintly.

"As long as it can make you feel at ease, I'll do anything even if I must carve my bones to build a tower in their honor."

Those vows, once so sincere, were long gone—scattered like dust in the wind.

Camille spent the entire night chanting scripture. Only when dawn broke did she finally return home.

The moment she stepped into her bedroom, Rafael—reeking of alcohol—pinned her down on the bed.

Her body was weak from sleeplessness; no matter how she struggled, she could not escape.

He ravaged her with drunken hunger, and when the final rush of heat filled her body, Camille froze as though struck by lightning.

"Rafael! Are you insane?! Why didn't you use protection?"

"Why bother? You can't have children anyway. What's the difference? If by chance you could, wouldn't that be even better?"

The cruelty of his words crushed her chest. Rage surged, and she slapped him hard across the face.

Her heart throbbed with a familiar ache, like invisible hands squeezing it tight.

Back then, her parents had not been the only targets of Rafael's enemies—she also had been kidnapped during their funeral. By some twisted mercy, the kidnappers died in a car crash while fleeing, but Camille had been gravely injured.

The doctors had told her she would likely never bear children.

For years afterward, Rafael had treated her with care, always cautious, never forgetting protection.

But now—his drunken words revealed the truth. He had long since forgotten her pain.

Red-eyed, Camille pushed him away and tried to stand.

But the moment her feet touched the floor, a sharp cramp tore through her abdomen. Hot blood spilled down her legs.

The world spun.

And then everything went black.