My husband has this strange habit—every time we're intimate, he blindfolds me and restrains my hands and feet.

I thought it was just his kink and tried my best to accommodate him.

Until I accidentally saw an unfamiliar text on his phone:

"Who's next?"

Curious, I went to ask him about it but overheard his conversation with someone else:

"Mr. Christian, your wife has already borne ten children. Please, it's my turn now?"

"Succubi are truly extraordinary—fragrant, soft, and fertile. To think my body could still produce heirs... miraculous!"

I plunged into an icy abyss.

After ten years married to Christian Hill, I'd given birth to ten children. Each time, he told me: "Stillborn."

Never imagined those children... all belonged to others...

I woke to sticky moans.

That sugary voice mixed with a man's low chuckle jolted me awake.

Fumbling for my husband's spare phone, I saw Sharon Allen's message glowing on the screen.

"Christian, last night in your car... you said it was more thrilling than tying your wife..."

Scrolling down revealed nothing but graphic filth.

Their video showed them tangled in the backseat.

Sharon's blouse hung unbuttoned as her fingers trailed along Christian's waist.

"Tie me up next time?

Teach me to moan like your wife..."

The phone buzzed with a new message.

"Mr. Matthew says that investment's yours if your wife spends one night with him."

Outside my room, nurses whispered, unaware I was conscious.

"Did you hear?

Her husband claims she miscarried again..."

"Exactly! She actually gave birth, but the baby was taken away. How would she survive knowing?"

I didn't miscarry?

My baby's alive?

Then why did my husband say I lost it? Why would nurses claim my child was stolen?

I flew toward the reception room.

But at the doorway, I froze dead.

"Christian, when your wife gets pregnant again, it should be my turn next!"

The man grinned at Christian with a greasy smile.

Several others joined in the commotion, their discussion heating up.

"Christian, Samantha Hernandez already gave him three kids. It should be my turn next—you've no idea how much my family pressures me for an heir."

"By that logic, I should go first! You all know about my... lower body condition. Let me secure a legacy!"

Christian kept his arm around Sharon's waist, declaring smugly:

"Patience, gentlemen. Same rules apply."

"Once she finishes her postpartum recovery, the highest bidder wins!"

Sharon burst out laughing.

"How sweet Christian is to his wife~"

"Now Ms. Allen, that's not quite right," a bespectacled man adjusted his gold frames with a sly grin.

"Christian's maximizing resource efficiency."

"His wife bore me two children, after all. Tightened our business partnership with Christian, didn't it?"

My mind went blank.

Bore him two children?

The men kept pleading with Christian in the room.

"Next time has to be me, Christian. I'm the only heir in four generations. My ancestors won't rest in peace without a descendant."

"You know my family situation, Christian. Let your wife bear me one child, and our future deals are yours to command."

Christian grabbed a handful of Sharon's breast, chuckling:

"Easy now. That Succubus lives off men. Why wouldn't I arrange some for her?"

Sharon nestled against him, feigning concern:

"Christian, won't your wife be upset if she finds out?"

"What could she possibly do?"

"She's just a Succubus surviving by my grace. What trouble can she stir?"

The room erupted in raucous laughter.

"Sleeping with a Succubus hits different—adapts to any position! None of my mistresses compare!"

"Christian, you've had your fun with her for ages. Pass her around when you're bored!"

"We'll treat her right—make her scream with pleasure!"

Crack! A shattered glass froze the atmosphere.

Christian shot a warning glare at the speaker.

"Be grateful she can bear your heirs. You think she's your plaything?"

"She's MY wife! However ruined she is—none of you get to fantasize!"

"Even if she's a whore who strips at a finger-snap!"

"I promised to care for her lifetime—that oath stands!"

"My word is iron!"

They applauded his declaration while I stood rooted, feeling like I was freezing to death.

So this is what my husband truly sees me as—a stepping stone for his ambition.

I removed the ring from my ring finger, tossed it in the trash, and turned back to the ward.

The lingering pain after childbirth still clung to me, but I couldn't care less.

I don't want this marriage anymore; it was treated as a transaction.

After returning to the hospital room, I contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce papers.

I couldn't understand how someone could change so drastically.

When I was being bullied for being a Succubus, it was Christian who saved me.

He never looked down on me for what I was—instead, he pursued me passionately.

Touched by his unwavering commitment, I shared the Succubus's power with him without hesitation.

Using that supernatural ability, he expanded his business rapidly and soon became an industry leader.

One day, he suddenly said he desperately wanted us to have a child,

and that's when he started covering my eyes every time we were intimate.

So... that's when he began orchestrating this whole deception.

I was just another high-end collectible on his display shelf......

The wound in my abdomen still throbbed, forcing me to rest with closed eyes to regain strength.

Soon after, I heard the door open as Christian entered carrying roses.

"Samantha, don't be upset."

He hugged me from behind like I was his most treasured possession.

"Losing the baby doesn't matter—we'll have more children later."

"Your health comes first now. Focus on recovering and don't overthink things, okay?"

All I smelled was that cloying women's perfume.

"Christian, have you been lying to me?"

The person behind me suddenly froze, then relaxed again.

"I'd never lie to my dearest wife."

"Rest now. I'm swamped with a company project."

I turned to face him, my voice teary as I pleaded.

"Christian, I miss you every single day. Could you spare a few days for me? Even just a few hours?"

He only patted me reassuringly.

"Samantha, focus on recovering. With my heavy workload, it eases my mind knowing you're staying here."

"If you miss me, I'll have Sharon come keep you company daily."

"With her here, I can work without worry and bring you home sooner."

As Christian finished speaking, his phone chimed. Still holding me awkwardly, he angled it away from my view.

Silence filled the room while he replied to messages. Then came the click of heels outside.

"Mr. Hill, I've brought Mrs. Hill's nourishing meal."

Her perfume arrived before she did, making me nauseous.

When I turned away, I caught Christian's eager expression.

Sharon entered smiling, takeout containers in hand.

"How are you feeling today, Mrs. Hill?"

"Mr. Hill insisted I keep your spirits up during your recovery."

She bent to set down the takeout box, revealing densely clustered crimson marks beneath her collar.

"This nourishing broth took ages to queue up just for you.

That shop specializes in postpartum meals—you must try it."

"Ms. Allen went through such trouble. Samantha, taste it now. Don't waste her kindness."

Christian passed me the bowl of broth. Thick oil slicks floated on the surface. The pungent fishy odor made me retch.

"Sorry, I can't eat fish. Please take it back, Ms. Allen."

Sharon immediately looked crestfallen, her voice trembling with apology.

"Oh, Mrs. Hill! I only researched postpartum nutrition—every source said Nourishing Fish Broth was best. Mr. Hill confirmed it too.

I never imagined you couldn't tolerate fish. My deepest apologies."

As she spoke, Sharon dropped to her knees. Christian caught her arm.

"You avoided fish before, but now after the miscarriage, nourishment is vital.

Sharon cares for you. If you can't eat the fish, just sip the broth.

Neglect your health now, and next time you lose a child—do you think you're worthy?"

I couldn't believe these words came from Christian.

Back when we first got together, he'd insisted his fish stew was legendary—swore he'd cook it for me someday.

I endured my allergic constitution and drank it, ending up hospitalized with high fever the next day.

Back then, Christian sobbed that he'd never let me see fish again.

But now, he's making me drink fish broth for Sharon?

He truly doesn't care about my physical condition anymore.

Seeing me sitting there dazed, Christian suddenly picked up that bowl of soup and forced me to drink it.

"You're just too picky. Sharon kindly brought you this nourishing meal and you refuse to eat."

"Every day you're either crying or suspicious about everything."

"Drink. If you don't drink, you won't eat today."

"This restaurant is so hard to get food from. You can't waste Sharon's kindness."

I turned my head away, unwilling to drink. He forcibly turned my face and poured a big gulp into my mouth.

"Ugh..." After swallowing that mouthful of broth, I felt unbearably itchy all over, with red patches spreading across my arms.

Christian saw this, frowned and said.

"This is just expelling dampness. Drinking more is good for your health. Allergies are just you being too delicate!"

"Nurse..." My arms were scratched bloody, and the wound on my lower abdomen felt like it was tearing open.

The nurse on rounds rushed over and urgently called for the doctor.

"Acute allergies causing postpartum complications! How is the family caring for her?"

Christian immediately put down the soup bowl, looking slightly embarrassed but quickly speaking with confidence.

"I made her drink it hoping to desensitize her. She won't eat anything, what else could I do?"

"And I see she only got a few red patches, is it really that serious?"

Sharon stood beside him, suddenly tearing up and starting to cry.

"It's all my fault, Christian. I didn't research Madam's dietary restrictions properly beforehand."

"As your secretary, I'm completely incompetent. Now Madam's suffering so much."

Christian turned and hugged her, comforting her.

"It's not your fault. You meant well. If you didn't care about her, would you have bought fish broth?"

"Her mental state is fragile. I'll need you to keep her company more these days."

Christian gave Sharon's butt a squeeze, making her laugh through tears.

"Don't worry, Christian. Leave Madam to me. You must take care of yourself too."

I curled up on the bed in agony.

My husband was gently comforting his secretary.

Before passing out from pain, I saw them whispering and giggling, a metallic taste flooding my mouth.

When I woke again, only a nurse was beside me.

"How are you feeling? Any discomfort?"

Seeing me shake my head, the nurse helped me sit up.

"Your family member truly cares. He stayed until just now, only leaving for an emergency call."

I tried sitting up to see if it was Christian, but the nurse just soothed me.

"You left in such a hurry. Focus on recovering first. Your brother came by earlier, but his girlfriend wasn't feeling well, so he took her to the ER."

I checked my phone—the lawyer had drafted the agreement.

Bitterly ironic how I'd just been fantasizing about Christian being here with me.

Time flew as I organized documents detailing all the projects I'd helped Christian secure over the years. Every single one advanced thanks to my skills. Might as well wrap everything up cleanly before leaving.

As dusk fell, Christian walked in carrying a food container, uncharacteristic awkwardness written across his face.

"I lost my temper this morning, but it came from concern for you."

"Sharon queued nearly three hours for that Nourishing Fish Broth and specifically asked me about it. You wouldn't want to dismiss her thoughtful gesture, would you?"

"See? I specially ordered nourishing meals. Pick what you want, and I'll take the rest to Sharon as your apology."

The dishes looked lavish, though most contained fish. Frowning, I pointed to the chicken soup. He hesitated.

"Sharon's been pulling too many all-nighters lately. She needs the extra nourishment."

I reached for the Garlic Green Beans.

Christian suddenly snapped with impatience. "Seriously? You just had a medical termination and you're picking plain veggies? Can't you choose something actually nourishing?"

I wasn't surprised at all when Christian's phone rang again.

It must have been Sharon; he grabbed the lunch box and took off right away.

I thought my heart had grown numb to the pain, but watching his resolute retreat, it ached fiercely.

The divorce papers I sent Christian remained unread, so I discharged myself and headed home.

I'd saved every penny for this apartment, setting the passcode as my birthday.

But after repeated tries, neither the code nor my fingerprint worked.

Opening the shoe cabinet for the spare key, I froze at the sight of red high heels.

My chest tightened. I entered Sharon's birthday—and the door clicked open.

Our minimalist haven had transformed into a pink cream aesthetic nightmare.

The hiking photo we'd hung in the hallway now showcased Sharon's glamour shots.

A crumpled shirt missing two buttons lay on the sofa. Half a lace trim peeked from beneath the rug.

Near the wall, crumpled foil wrappers glittered among discarded tissues.

Suddenly remembering the baby clothes I'd sewn, I tore through every room.

Nothing.

Until I spotted them in the kitchen trash—tangled with rotting trash and shattered foundation.

Clutching the tiny garments, I sobbed uncontrollably.

Then—the door swung open.

Sharon walked in wearing red high heels, swaying her hips.

She affectedly covered her mouth.

"Isn't this Mrs. Hill?

Why aren't you resting at the hospital? What brings you to my place?"

She saw me holding the baby clothes, a mocking smile curling her lips.

"Why bother picking up this junk?

I was just about to toss it."

I slowly stood up.

"This is my home."

"Your home?"

Sharon laughed theatrically.

"Didn't Christian tell you?

He transferred the deed to me."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence.

"By the way, I heard you've miscarried multiple times, Mrs. Hill."

"Was it because the baby wasn't Christian's?"

Rage blurred my vision as Sharon pressed on.

"Unlike some cheating wives who pin bastards on their husbands."

"Serves her right to miscarry! Real or fake? Probably staging it with her lover!"

"Get out!"

I hurled a cup at Sharon. She dodged with a hip swing.

"Just you wait, Mrs. Hill!"

She fled mid-sentence. I clutched the clothes, sobbing violently.

I summoned cleaners to purge every foreign item, reclaiming that so-called home.

Christian came back furious in the early hours.

"When did you become so stingy, Samantha?"

"Sharon's lease is up and she can't find a place, while your apartment sits empty.

What's wrong with letting her stay temporarily?"

"Who gave you the right to throw away all her belongings?"

His roaring stopped abruptly when he saw the clothes in my hands.

Watching me stay silent, he spoke defensively.

"Sharon asked me about those clothes. I thought they were old things you didn't want, so I tossed them."

"Besides, this apartment is closer to the company. It'll make Sharon's commute easier."

"I'll buy this place from you right now, consider it my apology."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"That was my home!

How dare you dispose of my things!"

Impatience flickered across Christian's face.

"They're just some clothes. No big deal if they're gone.

Sharon didn't even complain."

"When did you become so petty? Sharon never acts like this."

Clutching my cramping abdomen, I stood up.

"Let's get divorced, Christian."

He suddenly snorted.

"Just jealous, aren't you?"

"I'll have Sharon move out then."

"Don't even think about divorce..."

Before Christian could finish, his phone rang.

"Christian, help!

Someone's banging on my door!"

"I'll be right there."

He hung up, gave me a quick hug.

"Don't be upset. Rest at home.

I'll pretend I never heard 'divorce.'"

"Sharon shouldn't be alone at night. I'll keep her company and come back."

I felt eerily calm—the worst pain was behind me.

Suddenly I remembered Christian's deals with those men.

I quickly packed my bags, ready to escape immediately.

Just then, voices came from the doorway.

Several tall men walked in, spotted me, and pinned me to the bed.

I struggled and screamed, frantically hitting the emergency call button.

The call connected, Sharon's sultry voice drifting through:

"Hold on, Mrs. Christian's busy right now—"

Followed by Christian's panting and bed creaking, each sound hammering my heart.

"Stop fighting, sis. Christian sent us."

"Succubus really are different. Even after childbirth, your body's still fire."

"First time playing with sis without blindfolds. Tell us who feels most familiar."

My dress tore open as the men freely groped my body.

Sharon's moans and Christian's gasps continued on the phone while I stared at the men's hungry eyes and broke into hysterical laughter.

"I signed the divorce papers."

My voice trembled violently.

"Christian, I've repaid every debt."

The man on top of me froze in shock. I shoved him off and bolted toward the window.

Before falling, I faintly heard Christian's annoyed voice through the phone:

"What divorce papers?"

He frowned as he ended the call, Sharon still clinging to him.

"Mrs. Hill pulling this stunt again?

Last time it was jumping into the river, before that it was suicide."

"Every single time, Christian rushes back only to find out she was lying."

Christian tossed his phone aside, frustratedly running his hands through his hair:

"Can't she just behave?"

"What more does she want? I've kept this Succubus fed all this time."

Against his better judgment, he drove home—that laughter on the phone unsettled him.

Sharon feigned innocence:

"She definitely knows you're with me, Mr. Hill. Mrs. Hill's throwing a tantrum on purpose. Succubi scheme constantly."

Upon returning, Christian barked at the butler the moment he entered:

"Tell Samantha to get down here now!"

"Miscarrying daily yet not resting properly. Wonder what drama she's plotting this time."

The butler's voice trembled: "Sir, Mrs. Hill said she's staying with friends for a few days."

"Lying again.

Since when do Succubi have friends?"

Christian hurled his suit jacket onto the sofa. Sharon immediately offered him Nourishing Fish Broth:

"Mrs. Hill just wants you to comfort her. Wasn't it the same at the hospital last time?"

She pretended to be surprised:

"Maybe the Succubus got horny and went out to sleep with men?"

Christian massaged his temples, ignoring Sharon rubbing against him.

The divorce appointment notification suddenly popped up on his phone.

"Get her back here. I want to see what act she's putting on this time."

Christian's voice turned icy.

Sharon quickly grabbed his hand.

"It must be fake. Samantha loves tricking you like this."

"You're too soft-hearted. Pampering her every time just makes her bolder."

As she spoke, Sharon pressed close and kissed his throat. Christian couldn't resist shoving her onto the sofa again.

They carried on wildly until midnight. Christian stumbled drunkenly into the master bedroom.

The crib stood by the window. Little clothes I'd brought home were folded neatly inside.

Christian could no longer contain his bitterness.

"Samantha, you're nothing but a liar."

Days passed, and Christian's unease kept growing.

His calls went unanswered every time. Today, her phone was switched off.

Just as he prepared to send someone to Samantha's friend's house, the butler burst in, face ghostly pale, clutching a tablet.

"Sir, Madam... Madam's death notice is out!"

The tablet showed police photos from the scene. My nightgown dangled from the AC unit like torn rags.

Christian's pupils shrank violently. His phone clattered to the floor.

He suddenly remembered my voice from that phone call three days ago.

That wasn't a cry for help, but the laughter of despair.

As the elevator numbers descended, his heart felt clenched, the pain stealing his breath.

Sharon kept chattering behind him, "It must be fake news..."

He ignored her, his mind consumed by those final words before the jump.

"What I owed you, I've paid in full this lifetime."