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The day I found out I was pregnant was the same day I lost my sight. I woke up in a hospital, my world plunged into impenetrable darkness, but my fiancé, Ethan, was there, his hand in mine, murmuring reassurances. Then, through the fog of pain, I heard another conversation - Ethan, whispering to the doctor. He wasn't comforting me; he was ordering my future: a hysterectomy to ensure I couldn't have children, blaming it on the attack, all so he could bring his secret son with his old flame, Maria, into our home. The man I loved, the one I' d selflessly saved years ago by arranging Maria' s bone marrow donation for his life-altering surgery, was systematically destroying mine to make way for his real family. He' d taken my eyesight, my child, and my future, portraying me as a tragic victim while meticulously crafting a public narrative of his devotion. He thought he had rendered me helpless, a blind, barren woman to pity and control, even bringing Maria and his son, Leo, to me under the guise of an adoption agency visit. Maria, the very woman I had tracked down and compelled to save Ethan, relished in taunting me about my own secret act of heroism, twisting it into a weapon to reveal his ultimate betrayal. But in the profound darkness he cast upon me, an icy clarity emerged, hardening my sorrow into something far more dangerous than despair: a meticulous plan for revenge. He thought he was leading a lamb to the slaughter; he had no idea he was stepping into a trap of my own design, and I would burn his world to the ground.