When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie)

I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I might drop dead any second and didn't fear a do-or-die battle. But Kayla? Why was she doing this?

Clyde had a thing for her once. If things had stayed smooth between them, snagging the title of Mrs. Patterson would have been a cakewalk for her. Without lifting a finger, she could have effortlessly ousted me. Yet, she chose the most annoying and dead-end path.

When she stepped out of the police station and turned to kneel before me, I stumbled back in shock.

Kayla began in tears, "Melanie, I know you despise me, but you shouldn't have gone after my child. Clyde and I are truly in love. Why would you harm our baby? You're relentless in your pursuit, but why involve my innocent child? You can't bear one yourself, so you begrudge me mine?"

Her tears grew into a torrent of genuine sorrow.

I looked on coldly. "I didn't harm your child."

The paparazzi swarmed us, cameras flashing non-stop. As I left, Kayla clutched at my jeans. "You can't go, you murderer!"

"Let go of my wife!" With his lawyer in tow, Clyde rushed over and forcefully pried Kayla's hands off me.

He seemed about to argue, but I cut him off. "Think of the public image. Let's go."

Only then did Clyde notice the surrounding cameras and TV station logos. He hurriedly ushered me into the car and drove off, regardless of the reporters before.

His face was stormy, a clear sign of his foul mood, which kept the reporters at bay. "Our apartment isn't safe right now. Let's head to the mansion. The security's tighter there. You might want to take a few days off. It's best to stay indoors.”

This time, he didn't discuss it with me. Instead, he just dropped me off and left.

I knew the mess wouldn't be easy to clean up and could even tarnish the company's name.

That Kayla managed to break away from the Patterson family and even find reporters meant York must be involved.

Sure enough, my phone was blowing up with news about me. Even my past, supposedly running off with a rich kid after college, was being detailed as if it were fact.

Everyone seemed convinced of the narrative, yet no one delved into who this rich kid was, why I left with him, or where we ended up.

In front of the cameras, Kayla painted me as the homewrecker, the unloved interloper.

Somehow, she had her share of deluded fans who believed stepping into someone else's marriage was an act of love, rallying to send me behind bars.

The story flipped just as I was about to switch off my phone and catch some sleep.

Online, someone exposed Kayla for

kidnapping her ex-boyfriend's

daughter in a bid to frame me for murder. Then came the news of her ex's suicide, and her scandalous past as a streetwalker during her collège days was dug up.

Rumors were swirling about Paul illegally using designs from the Patterson Group-likely my

ет

designs and selling them for profit, with Kayla suspected as the mastermind behind the whole scheme.

The Patterson Group's official account even posted the entire scene of Kayla's tantrum at the door, proving my distance from her throughout, clearing me ofCopyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

1

involvement in the child's demise.

But what truly floored me was Clyde posting a paternity test report on the official account, proving Rayla's miscarried child wasn't his.

Besides the document, Clyde's message was clear. "I have only one wife, Melanie. No one can frame her!"

I read those words repeatedly, my eyes welling up in tears, wondering why Clyde hadn't remembered I was his wife before all this.