The harsh, sterile light of the emergency room in the city’s most luxurious private hospital cast a cold glow. On the large hospital bed, Elena lay curled up beneath a thin, pale blue blanket. Her face was deathly pale, devoid of any color, and her vibrant red hair—once her ultimate pride—was now matted against the headboard, soaked in sweat and tears.

CHAPTER 1: TRAGEDY IN LUXURY

Just a few hours ago, Elena was a mother filled with hope, pressing her hands against her round, eight-month pregnant belly to feel every faint kick of her unborn child. She and her husband, Julian, had eagerly anticipated this child for the past three years. But a sudden, sharp spasm, a mysterious fall down the staircase of the luxurious Vanguard manor, and everything shattered. The baby was gone before ever seeing the light of day. The doctor said it was a baby girl.

Elena did not cry out loud. Instead, tears silently streamed down her face, washing over the fresh, bloody scratches on her cheeks—the brutal remnants of that fateful fall. Beside her, the heart rate monitor beeped in a steady, lonely rhythm, like a countdown clock ticking away the final remnants of her tragic marriage.

Click.

A sharp noise from the door shattered the mournful silence. The heavy wooden door was violently pushed open, slamming against the wall with a resounding crash. Beatrice stepped in.

As always, her mother-in-law appeared immaculately and ruthlessly perfect. She wore a sleek, glossy satin shirt with a matching high-slit skirt, loosely draped in an elegant cream cardigan. The massive, solid gold chain necklace around her neck gleamed under the hospital lights, and her large pearl earrings further accentuated her sharp, cold, and commanding face. Beatrice showed no signs of a grieving grandmother. She was furious—a towering rage born of an aristocrat stripped of what she desired.

Beatrice brutally tossed her expensive brown crocodile Hermès handbag onto the floor. The luxury bag hit the base of the bed with a dull thud. She marched straight toward Elena, each stomp of her sharp stiletto heels feeling as though it were trampling directly on her daughter-in-law's fragile soul.

"You couldn’t even give me a grandson!"

Beatrice’s voice hissed through her teeth, dripping with utter humiliation and contempt. To her, the loss of the child was not a tragedy of human life, but a failure of Elena's "performance" in securing the family lineage.

Elena looked at her mother-in-law in absolute horror. With her physical pain still throbbing, she now had to bear the venomous words of a woman who had always viewed her as nothing more than a breeding tool. She parted her lips, desperately searching for a shred of humanity in the woman before her, but all she found was a pair of bloodshot eyes overflowing with pure malice.