I swallowed my tears, asking for divorce while begging for our lost baby's burial site.

"I gave you ten years! Why cling to the past?

I'll never divorce you," he roared.

"Starting today, you'll tend to Karen Green here until she delivers safely. Otherwise, you'll never know where our child rests."

But he didn't know—Karen immediately revealed the burial plot.

I called Funeral Services. "Hello, please collect my body at this address in ten days."

Baby, wait ten more days. Mommy's coming.

...

When Ralph Walker returned, Mary Thompson had prepared dinner.

His expression softened. "So you've accepted Karen's pregnancy."

Karen—his mistress.

Mary remained silent until he finished eating. "Ralph, where is our child buried?"

The temperature in the dining room plummeted.

Ralph wiped his tense hands with a napkin. "That child died ten years ago. I gave you a decade to heal. Why cling to this?"

Mary's heart clenched, fists tightening unconsciously.

How could she let go?

After they extracted the baby in surgery, he'd buried it secretly. Ten years—she'd never even seen the grave.

Before she could recover, Ralph slid an ultrasound report across the table. "Karen's young and healthy. The baby's perfect. You were a nurse—you understand these readings?"

"This child will call you Mom, just like the other one would have."

His calm detachment unleashed a tidal wave of emotions in Mary.

She remembered studying her own ultrasound, watching her baby grow week by week...

Until it stopped growing at six months.

Gripping her tightening chest, Mary whispered, "Ralph, you must be thrilled to become a father.

These ten years... I've held you back."

Ralph froze.

She lifted trembling eyes, offering divorce papers. "Let's end this.

I have only one child. I only want to be his mother. May your family of three find happiness."

Ralph snatched the documents, tearing them to shreds.

"Mary, still playing games?

I've spoiled you too long. If you reject comfort, embrace hardship."

He dragged her to the maternity VIP suite where Karen rested.

"From now on," he commanded, "you'll tend to Karen until delivery. Fail this, and you'll never find our child's grave."

Mary's face drained of color, lips parting soundlessly.

Ralph knew exactly where her weak spot was.

Mary brought water and carefully washed Karen's face and feet, fed her meals, becoming a diligent nanny.

Ralph pulled the woman into his embrace without Mary glancing their way.

Only when her peripheral vision caught them about to kiss did she tactfully slip out of the ward, leaning alone against the icy corridor bench.

Metropolis's winter cut bitterly cold, the afternoon wind still making people shudder.

Mary listened as the cheerful laughter inside the ward gradually softened into tender murmurs, until finally... the girl's deliberately amplified breathy moans echoed out.

A sudden pain stabbed her chest.

Tight, constricting pain.

Her trembling fingers reached for her bag beside her, pulling out the Paroxetine for her depression.

Just as she popped out a pill, ready to swallow—

Smack!

Ralph slapped the medication right out of her hand!

Ralph's face darkened like ink.

"Isn't your depression cured?

The doctor said once you're better, you can't take this medicine anymore. Too much of it can make you suicidal."

The man was furious, gripping Mary's chin hard: "Mary, you're taking pills to threaten me over a child who died ten years ago?"

Mary trembled in pain: "I'm not threatening you, I'm just in pain. The pills help..."

But Ralph didn't believe her.

He pulled out his phone grimly: "You keep thinking about the dead child. Do you care about the living at all?

If I can't handle you, I'll let your mother deal with you."

The call connected quickly. Ralph said coldly: "Your daughter is acting up again, threatening suicide. Get her to calm down in three minutes, or I can't guarantee your son's job."

He handed the phone to Mary. Kathleen Thompson's impatient scolding came through.

"Mary, do you have to drive everyone to death to be happy?

Your brother still works at the Walker Group. He has a girlfriend and is about to buy a house and get married. Without a job, how will he live?

Apologize to Ralph now!"

Mary choked up weakly: "Mom, my brother is your son. Am I not your daughter too?

I'm really suffering..."

But Kathleen didn't let her finish: "What do you have to suffer about as a rich man's wife?

You don't have a womb, but Ralph still keeps you well. What right do you have to cause trouble for him?

I'm begging you. I worked so hard to raise you. Don't be an ungrateful wretch, okay?

Stop making trouble. Let our Thompson family have a good life with the Walkers."

Hearing this, Mary lost all strength in her body.

After the call ended, Ralph snatched the phone back: "Mary, your mother is right. Be grateful for life. Don't be so selfish."

Mary stared into the void, trembling: "I just want to know where our child is buried. I want to see him. Is that wrong..."

Seeing her distraught, empty eyes, Ralph's breath hitched.

His arm muscles tensed. Realizing something was wrong, he immediately took her to the hospital's psychiatric clinic.

"Mary, you haven't had an episode in years. You'd better not be faking it for me!"

Soon, Mary was given a sedative and fell asleep on the hospital bed.

But she still lay with her eyes closed in pain, as if trapped in a nightmare.

The doctor looked grave: "Mr. Walker, given Mrs. Walker's history of depression, I suggest you have a child soon. She desperately needs one to heal the trauma from ten years ago."

Ralph stared at the figure on the bed and answered lowly: "Our child will be born very soon."

The doctor nodded: "Good that you're prepared. By the way, for patients like your wife, sometimes provoking an emotional reaction is actually good. The most dangerous thing is when she doesn't cry or make a fuss."

Ralph didn't speak, his gaze dark as he watched the person on the bed.

It was unclear how much time had passed when Mary woke again to find Ralph by her bed.

"Awake?"

Though she heard concern in his voice, Mary's heart ached.

Ralph was a renowned entrepreneur in Metropolis, a billionaire business magnate, yet because Mary couldn't bear him a child, he'd lost his masculine dignity over the past decade.

Just as Mary was about to bring up divorce again, Ralph spoke first.

His voice had turned icy again: "Karen's anemic. Your blood type matches hers. Since you're awake, get ready to donate blood for her."

Mary frowned: "I have the most common blood type. The blood bank has plenty."

Ralph suddenly gripped her chin, his eyes demanding: "She's carrying our child. If you donate blood, the baby will have your genes. It'll look more like you. Understand, Mary?"

Mary gave a bitter smile: "What does it matter if the child resembles me?

Why not divorce me, erase everything about me, and move on with your life?"

"Enough!

I'll handle this my way."

Ralph dragged her to the transfusion room.

She sat beside him like a puppet, staring blankly as the needle pierced her vein.

Suddenly, a baby's cries echoed from the maternity ward next door.

Mary jolted as if from a nightmare, her pupils contracting sharply.

"My baby..."

"That's my baby crying!"

She struggled violently in Ralph's arms: "Let me go! My baby's crying... my baby..."

Ralph tightened his grip, his trembling hand pinning her arm, barking at the nurse: "Hurry up and draw it!"

Before half the blood was drawn, Mary collapsed in Karen's arms.

When she woke again, Mary found herself strapped to an electroshock chair.

"Ralph, what are you doing?"

Ralph sat nearby, expressionless: "You had an episode. To stabilize you, I ordered electroshock therapy."

Mary turned pale: "You... what did you say?"

A memory suddenly struck her.

Long ago, when she'd had a breakdown, doctors suggested electroshock, but Ralph refused.

He'd held her tenderly back then, soothing her: "Mary, no shocks. You'll recover slowly. I'll wait for you. I'll stay with you..."

Now he didn't care if she could endure it...

Seeing Ralph leave the treatment room, Mary fought wildly.

"No!

Ralph, you can't do this to me!"

"I won't undergo—"

The next instant, a powerful electric current surged through Mary from head to toe!

"Ah—"

Agonized screams kept pouring from the electroconvulsive therapy room.

Mary's cries faded from loud wails to silence.

Outside, Ralph leaned against the wall expressionlessly, cigarette butts piling rapidly at his feet...

After the treatment, Mary felt utterly drained.

Pale and stiff, she was led out of the hospital by Ralph.

Snowflakes swirled outside.

Just as cold as the day she lost her child.

Shivering uncontrollably, Mary felt Ralph unexpectedly drape his coat over her shoulders.

Their eyes met, yet his gaze remained icy.

He stated, "Karen's discharged. She's moving into our villa. I don't trust outsiders to care for her—you'll do it."

Mary lowered her eyes without responding.

Ralph pressed his lips thin, his tone hardening. "Mary, my patience wears thin. Don't make this ugly."

She flinched, finally raising swollen eyes. "If I care for Karen's unborn child... will you truly tell me where mine is buried?"

Ralph's eyes darkened.

His throat moved in a dry swallow, but he didn't refuse. "Depends on your performance."

He drove Mary home afterward.

At the doorstep, he took a sudden work call and told her to go inside.

Mary wandered the living room before finding Karen—belly swollen—in the master bedroom.

The room was ransacked. Delinquent girls circled Karen, laughing as she held the gift box Mary had prepared for her dead child!

Mary's pupils contracted. She lunged forward. "Don't touch my baby's gifts!"

But the girls pinned her down, giggling.

Karen flashed a taunting smile. "Let's see what treasures the esteemed Mrs. Walker bought for her dead brat!"

She pulled out a snow globe, reading its inscription aloud: "‘Baby, you left Mommy today. The snow falls heavy—here’s a house to keep you warm...’"

Then she dropped the globe.

"No!"

It shattered on impact—like Mary's heart fracturing.

Next, Karen grabbed a baby rattle. "‘Baby, you’re one month old today! Do you like Mommy’s gift?’"

She smashed the rattle!

Then a hand-drawn family portrait—ripped to shreds after reading!

Mary struggled, eyes bloodshot. "Karen! Stop! I'll kill you!"

Her hysteria only delighted Karen.

"Crash! Bang!"

Every gift was destroyed.

Karen played a recording of infant wails from her phone, sneering, "Who’ll you kill, Mrs. Walker? You’ve got no womb—you killed your own child!"

"Why didn’t you protect him? His tiny body was blue and mangled when they cut him out. Did that poor life deserve this?"

The phone’s relentless wailing shattered Mary’s sanity.

Hands clutching her head, she moaned in agony, "Stop... please..."

Please, stop talking!"

Watching Mary's emotional breakdown, Karen picked up a powered curling iron and stepped closer to her.

"Useless without a womb, why are you even alive?"

As the words fell, Karen suddenly shoved Mary to the ground, yanked her pants down, and slammed the curling iron against her leg.

"Ah!"

Instantly, a shriek pierced the room, mingling with the stench of searing flesh.

Pinned helplessly on the floor, Mary convulsed from the burn.

Karen sneered triumphantly: "That was just warming you up. This time, I'll scorch your face to ruins!"

Terrified, Mary stared as the curling iron swung toward her left cheek—

Suddenly, "THUD—"

The door burst open from outside. Ralph stormed in!

"What are you doing!"

When Ralph burst in, the delinquent girls scrambled to pull Mary's clothes over her wounds.

Mary was too weak from pain to respond.

Karen pressed the curling iron against her own arm before collapsing to the floor with a wail.

"Mr. Walker, save me!

I brought friends to greet Mrs. Walker, but she went crazy and burned me with the iron!

She said since her child died, mine shouldn't live either!"

"My hand's burned, my stomach hurts!

Save my baby!"

At the mention of the child, Ralph's expression shifted. He immediately scooped Karen into his arms.

Before leaving, he didn't even glance at Mary, delivering only an icy warning.

"Mary!

Stay put until I return to settle this with you!"

After Ralph took Karen away, her gang fled in panic.

Silence reclaimed the room.

It took Mary long minutes to move.

She didn't tend her wounds, just numbly stared at the shattered fragments. Trembling hands gathered each broken gift piece by piece.

But shattered things could never be whole again...

Just like her lost child, forever gone.

When Ralph returned, Mary had just collected the last fragment.

The man yanked her up from the floor, his voice glacial.

"Karen's scarred arm has her distraught. Doctors say her mood affects fetal development. Mary, either give her skin grafts or apologize—calm her down now."

All color had drained from Mary's face, leaving no trace of vitality.

She offered no defense, only a hollow whisper: "If I give Karen the grafts... will you tell me where our child rests?"

Ralph's voice caught. Two seconds passed before he answered: "Fine!"

That night, Mary's anesthesia resistance left her writhing in agony during the skin graft procedure.

Waking to find Ralph by her bed, her first question rasped: "Tell me... where is my child buried?"

Ralph's expression darkened instantly.

The air around him grew colder as he gripped her chin, eyes shadowed. "Knowing where the child lies—will you join it in death?"

His fingers tightened suddenly. "Mary, I've announced your pregnancy. Soon, the Walker heir will be 'born'."

"Until then, you won't stir up trouble."

Mary stared blankly before shoving him away with a raw scream: "Ralph! You promised to tell me! You can't break your word!"

"I'm his mother! He swam in my womb when I still had it! Dead or not—why won't you let me see him?!"

Ralph remained unmoved.

Despair flooded Mary. She tumbled from the bed, kneeling before him.

"I beg you..."

"Just tell me where he is. I'll ruin nothing. Please... let me see my child? I'll beg on my knees! Please!"

"Tell me! I'm begging you!"

Mary kowtowed violently before the man.

Thud after thud, the floor echoed with each strike!

"Enough."

Ralph suddenly stood up, yanking his tie in frustration as he glared down. "Mary, look at this pathetic mess you've become. You think your dead son would want such a disgraceful mother?"

Mary paused briefly before silently resuming her kowtows.

Only her trembling hands pressed against the floor betrayed her composure. Just as she neared her breaking point, Ralph's cold and detached voice finally came from above—

"Community Cemetery, Plot 288."

After ten years of secrecy, Ralph finally revealed their child's burial site.

Mary rose unsteadily from the floor, vision swimming, a faint smile of relief touching her lips.

She kept repeating: "Community Cemetery 288, Community Cemetery 288..."

Then she stumbled past Ralph toward the hospital room door. As her hand touched the handle, his grip closed around her wrist from behind.

"Where are you going?"

Mary stared blankly ahead. "Community Cemetery 288."

"You can't go out looking like this."

Ralph steered her toward a mirror.

Mary lifted her eyes to her reflection—tangled hair, pallid skin, deep shadows beneath her eyes, chapped lips, clothes damp with sweat.

Ralph added sharply: "Who do you plan on terrifying with that appearance?"

Mary's expression shifted abruptly. "Right... you're absolutely right!

Can't scare the baby.

I'll go change immediately. Need to look beautiful for my baby..."

"I'll drive you."

Ralph's voice hardened as he continued: "So you won't wander off and embarrass the Walkers!"

During the drive, Ralph canceled two major deals via phone calls.

Mary paid no attention, gazing contentedly out the window.

Now that she knew her baby's resting place... even after death, her soul would know where to find her child.

How wonderful...

After changing into a formal winter coat, Mary hauled out a large suitcase packed with toys bought for her child.

Shattered ones had been painstakingly reassembled and placed inside.

She added new gifts until the case overflowed.

That afternoon, they reached Community Cemetery.

Mary lugged the heavy case up the stone steps, refusing Ralph's offer to carry it.

These were ten years' worth of presents for her baby—no one else would touch them.

Finally, they stood before the tiny grave.

Mary knelt by the headstone, fingers tracing the engraved name with feather-light tenderness.

"Baby," she whispered, "so this is where you've been. Mommy's here now, and I brought gifts..."

Unzipping the suitcase, she lifted crystal snow globes. "Mommy got this little house for you every snowfall. Do you like it?"

Setting them down, she produced a baby rattle with a soft smile. "Your full-moon gift. Isn't it pretty?"

She gently swayed the rattle, its drumming sound echoing before she placed it carefully before the stone. Next came a plush bear.

"Your hundredth-day present. So soft for cuddling at bedtime."

"Your first-birthday walker to help you take steps."

"And this..."

Ralph watched Mary joyfully introduce each toy, his eyes darkening as he turned away.

A sudden phone call shattered the quiet.

He answered, his expression hardening instantly. "Mary, the driver will take you back later!"

Ralph strode off urgently.

Mary remained immersed in her one-sided conversation, oblivious to his departure.

By the time she presented the final gift, dusk was gathering.

Her gaze drifted toward the empty plot beside them.

Mary had called Funeral Services the day Ralph confronted her about having children, scheduling full post-mortem arrangements.

Now she called their representative again: "The burial plot is set—Plot 288 at Community Cemetery. When I die, bury me with the child here."

"But don't carve my name on the headstone.

I'll buy the adjacent plot and engrave my name there."

Then my baby and I won't be disturbed by anyone...

After hanging up, Mary immediately contacted the cemetery manager to purchase the neighboring plot for expansion.

Two hours later, workers finished digging and left. The fresh grave gaped like an open wound.

Mary took a knife, forcefully carving her name into the new headstone.

The scraping of metal against stone echoed jarringly through the silent cemetery. Blood seeped from her worn fingertips into the stone grooves, yet she remained oblivious.

"Mary, born August 12, 1996, died..."

She carved her predetermined death date stroke by stroke, each character stained with blood.

With the headstone completed, Mary lay in the grave.

She turned her head to the side, gazing at the child's headstone mere inches away, savoring the warmth of resting beside her baby.

"Sweetheart, Mommy will join you soon. Wait for Mommy..."