Tiffany walked in while I was packing my things for discharge. I had just begun to feel a little better physically. Today was the day of my daughter’s funeral. Tiffany said, “So what if you gave birth to his child? Julian never loved you. He only sees you as my replacement.” Once again, Tiffany acted delicate and frail. She looked at me with mockery and disdain, no longer the elegant figure she usually portrayed in front of Julian. I pursed my lips and looked at her seriously. “Do you really enjoy being a mistress that much?” Tiffany clearly hadn’t expected me to ask such an unrelated question. The words hit a nerve, and I saw her face twist in irritation and embarrassment. “Why are you still pretending, Chloe? You’re terrified, aren’t you? What’s wrong with loving someone? Just because your heart is filthy doesn’t mean everyone else’s is too. If you love Julian, you’d let us be together. I’d treat the child like my own. Aren’t you satisfied?” I took a step back. I didn’t want her intelligence to affect mine. “Since you are already aware, why say it out loud and humiliate yourself? And one more thing—I don’t love Julian anymore. Do you like digging through trash for leftovers? Go ahead. But I’m not into garbage.” I picked up the small box containing my daughter’s ashes from the table, ready to leave. Tiffany suddenly stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Guess who Julian will believe? Me or you?” I was still trying to make sense of her words when she dropped to her knees and started slapping herself across the face. So this was her move—trying to frame me, huh? I watched her, noting how her cheeks remained pale and untouched without a hint of redness. I smirked and raised my hand, delivering a hard slap across her face. The left side of Tiffany’s face immediately swelled up. Before she could react, I slapped the other side with equal force. “Tiffany!” Julian ran over and helped Tiffany to her feet. “What the hell are you doing, Chloe?” I blew gently on my reddened palm. “Well, this is what your little mistress wanted to know—who you’d believe. I was just making sure she doesn’t go through all that trouble for nothing if you picked me.” Tiffany’s eyes flashed with venom. She leaned weakly against Julian, crying silently, not saying a word. Surrounded by curious onlookers, Julian found himself trapped. He was unable to hug Tiffany or push her away. His face turned purple with rage. He lowered his voice and warned, “Chloe, stop causing trouble!” Some people recognized Julian and whispered, “Isn’t that Dr. Julian Burton, the gynecology expert? I heard he performed the surgery on his wife, the one everyone said was doomed to fail, but he somehow saved her life. Everyone in the hospital has been talking about it. What’s happening?” “What else could it be? That woman must be secretly in love with Dr. Burton. She even slapped Mrs. Burton! What a disgrace!” The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, and the accusations against me intensified. “Apologize!” “You must apologize!” I didn’t miss the smug look in Tiffany’s eyes. Just then, someone called out, “She doesn’t need to apologize. She’s the real Mrs. Burton!” It was Kelly, the nurse who had pushed me into the hospital room that day. She glanced at me, offering a comforting look. “How can we trust a mistress’ words? Besides, Dr. Burton didn’t perform Mrs. Burton’s surgery. Dr. Nomel did. If Dr. Burton hadn’t given the last blood bag—” I decided to interrupt Kelly. After glancing at Julian’s expression, I finally allowed myself to relax. I hid the mockery in my eyes and continued, “If it weren’t for Dr. Burton giving the last blood bag to his true love, Ms. Tiffany Cooper, I wouldn’t have lost my baby from excessive bleeding. “I’d like to thank my dear husband’s lover, Tiffany—if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t know that an anemic woman with a heart condition needs blood more than a pregnant woman losing blood.” Julian grabbed my hand and demanded, “What the hell are you saying? What happened to the baby?”