I Regret Ever Loving You

A month later, I found out I was pregnant.

Three years ago, when I asked for a divorce the second time, Hugo returned to his family estate that very night. Soon after, I was granted the right to see Avery once a week.

Seven years into the marriage, Hugo had always known exactly where my weaknesses lay. He made sure I couldn't leave, couldn't escape—kept tightly in the palm of his hand, a ridiculous puppet.

Today was the third time.

Perhaps out of sympathy, the lawyer still accepted my case.

When he took the marriage certificate I handed over, his eyes widened.

"Mia, this marriage certificate… is fake. You and Mr. Hudson were never actually married."

"What?" I shot to my feet, convinced I'd misheard. "How could my marriage certificate be fake? Look again—carefully!"

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and examined it once more.

"I'm very sorry, Mia. This certificate truly is fake."

I laughed, though tears streamed down uncontrollably.

Seven years. Two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days.

Every single day, I asked myself hundreds of times: Why did I believe Hugo? Why did I agree to marry him? Why did I tolerate his family, who were cold, merciless monsters?

It took me seven years to face reality, and six years to gather the courage to divorce.

And now, the lawyer was telling me… I had never been married to Hugo at all.

No wonder his family treated me so poorly. So that was it… I really was no different from the women outside.

After wiping away my tears, I thanked the kind lawyer and slowly walked out of the firm.

If there had never been a marriage, then separating would be much simpler. There was only one thing I couldn't let go of—Avery.

Avery was my child with Hugo. He was five years old this year.

When I gave birth to him, I had dystocia and severe hemorrhaging. I nearly died on the operating table. Through the haze, I heard the doctor ask Hugo whether to save the mother or the child.

Hugo didn't hesitate. "Save the child."

Those cold words jolted me awake from the brink of death. Over and over, I told myself, 'Mia, you can't die. Even if Hugo doesn't love you, you still have a son. Avery can't grow up without a mother.'

Clinging to that thought, I dragged myself back from the edge of death. It could be said that Avery was the most important reason I was still alive.

Yet less than two days after he was born, Hugo's mother forcibly took him away.

She said, "Mia, not letting you raise Avery is for his own good. Don't forget, you're just a nobody who clawed her way out of some poor backwater. If Avery stays by your side, he'll be looked down on just like you."

In that instant, I lost all strength to struggle.

I thought… she was right. I had nothing to give Avery. Being with Hugo's mom was what was best for him.

I exhausted myself trying to convince my own heart. Yet time and again, in the dead of night, I still couldn't stop myself from clutching the clothes and toys I'd prepared especially for Avery, crying until I could barely breathe.

When Hugo was occasionally woken by my sobbing, he would send me a video of Avery. Relying on those videos, I endured three years—one thousand and ninety-five days.

It wasn't until Avery turned three that Hugo's mom finally agreed to let me see him once a week.

Today was our scheduled visiting day.

When I arrived at the Hudson family estate, it was eerily quiet. I stood outside calling for more than ten minutes, but no one opened the door.

Yes. After seven years as "Mrs. Hudson," I still had no right to enter the Hudson family estate at will.

A passing servant, unable to bear it, told me that Avery had been taken away early that morning by Hugo.

I let out a bitter smile. I understood perfectly—this was Hugo punishing me.

Over the years, whenever I showed even the slightest disobedience, he would refuse to let me see Avery. And every time, I was forced to bow my head, trading my dignity for a single chance to see my child.

Taking a deep breath, for Avery's sake, I finally called Hugo.