Chapter 1

Two days before their fifth wedding anniversary, Freda Lane clutched her pregnancy test results and secretly flew to Ireland, hoping to surprise her husband who was away on business.

She rushed excitedly to Cyril Prescott's hotel room, and as she approached the half-open door, voices drifted out from inside.

"Congratulations, Cyril! Living the dream with two women! Here's to you and Jolie Hart—happy wedding!"

"So Cyril's serious about Jolie? Flying all the way to Ireland just to marry her. They take marriage real seriously in Ireland. No divorce—just widowhood!"

"Isn't this bigamy?" someone asked curiously.

"That's where you're wrong, buddy! Cyril never married Freda Lane for real back then. He’s been unmarried five years, just sittin’ tight for Jolie to turn legal!"

"Damn, Cyril’s been playing the long game, huh?"

Freda stood frozen outside, her blood turning to ice.

She thought she'd misheard, but the next words shattered her world completely.

"I’m serious about Jolie, okay? She risked her life to save Freda with that blood transfusion, and she’s been willing to live in her shadow forever. She can take care of Freda with me. All she wants is a real marriage, and I can give her that." Cyril's voice was calm and deliberate.

Freda instinctively stepped back, Jolie Hart's mature, seductive face flashing before her eyes.

Five years ago, when Freda was in a car accident, it was Jolie—then just a high school student—who rushed her to the hospital and donated blood to save her life.

Jolie grew up in poverty, with only her ailing mother by her side. To show their gratitude, Freda and Cyril had covered all of Jolie's expenses, even arranging for her to study abroad and travel.

Cyril had declared that by saving Freda's life, Jolie had saved his life too.

He was willing to give anything to show his gratitude.

She just never imagined his idea of gratitude included raising her until she was old enough to marry.

How ridiculous. She'd been completely clueless for five whole years.

"What about Freda? Aren't you worried she'll find out?" one of Cyril's buddies couldn't help asking.

Cyril looked down, his fingers quickly tapping across his phone screen. He spoke with confidence, "I'll keep loving her just like I always have. She'll never find out in this lifetime."

"You guys better keep your mouths shut. I don't want any of this drama getting back to Freda."

The next second, Freda's phone buzzed.

She stared at Cyril's message, her chest tightening as ice-cold flooded her body.

[Baby, I miss you so much. I hate these business trips—every single second feels like agony without my beautiful wife by my side. I'm doing everything I can to get home for our special day. Love you.]

Freda gripped her phone and glanced up at Cyril through the doorway. He was smiling, casually unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, his eyes gleaming with some unreadable light.

Her vision blurred as tears welled up.

This wasn't her Cyril Prescott.

Cyril was her childhood sweetheart, the boy who broke his leg climbing through her bedroom window to retrieve her hair clip, then comfort her while she cried.

He was the eighteen-year-old who braved a snowstorm to climb a mountain just to confess his love, promising he'd love her forever and never lie to her.

At twenty, he hand-wrote 9,999 love letters and spent months baking a hundred different cakes to propose to her.

Her Cyril was the twenty-two-year-old who planned their dream wedding and couldn't bear to be apart from her for even a moment after they were married...

Not this lying bastard who claimed to love her while marrying another woman.

Freda's heart felt like it was being ripped apart. She bit down hard on her lip.

The conversation inside continued, but she couldn't stand to hear another word.

Her phone buzzed again. Cyril was calling.

She remembered the time she'd forgotten her phone at home. When Cyril couldn't get hold of her for three hours, he'd Send the entire Prescott Corporation staff to search for her.

The moment he found her, his eyes were red as he pulled her into his arms. "Freda, I thought you were leaving me. I can't live without you."

From that day on, she never forgot her phone again, and she always answered his calls.

But now, she had no intention of picking up.

Inside the room, panic overtook Cyril as he stood up abruptly and cut off the others' conversation. "Everyone shut up! Why isn't my wife answering her phone?"

A brief silence fell over the room.

"Relax, Cyril. Maybe Freda just didn't see it."

"Dude, you're way too clingy with your wife. Missing a call here and there is totally normal."

"No, it's not! You guys don't understand the love we have!"

Cyril's brow furrowed, his worry and anxiety seeming completely genuine. He paced back and forth, calling her over and over again.

Standing outside the door, Freda found it utterly ridiculious. He'd fallen in love with someone else, yet he could still put on this act of caring about her.

Could his heart really hold two people at once?

Freda texted him back: [In the shower. Call you later.]

His face visibly relaxed, even breaking into a smile.

"Baby, I can't live without you. Please promise me you’ll never go."

Reading this message, Freda finally broke down in tears.

They'd been together for seven years, married for five, and he'd always expressed his love with such direct, passionate words.

But the truth was, he'd never even given her a legal marriage.

Footsteps echoed from inside the room, and Freda quickly escaped to the stairwell.

Cyril emerged with the group and walked across the hall, entering the keycode to the room directly opposite.

Jolie Hart appeared wearing a stunning red cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, her curves accentuated perfectly. Her face held a seductive maturity that seemed beyond her years. The moment she saw Cyril, she pressed herself against him.

"Honey, do you like this dress on me?"

"Of course. My gorgeous girl looks amazing in anything."

Cyril's lips curved into a smile as he wrapped his arm around her waist, heading toward the elevator.

His eyes stayed fixed on Jolie, completely oblivious to the figure hiding behind the stairwell door.

Freda felt like her heart was being carved up with a dull knife, the relentless pain suffocating her. She collapsed to the floor, curling into a ball.

If she'd still been struggling internally before, still making excuses for Cyril, now she had to face the brutal truth: Cyril Prescott was genuinely in love with another woman.

After crying herself nearly unconscious, Freda slowly pulled herself to her feet. She would never accept her husband loving two women at once.

Since they were already legally married, she'd give them what they wanted.

She would disappear from Cyril Prescott's world completely.

Freda took a taxi to the airport and bought a ticket on the earliest flight home.

The first thing she did when she got back was schedule an abortion at the hospital.

Chapter 2

"Ms. Lane, you suffered severe abdominal injuries in that car accident. Getting pregnant at all is nothing short of a miracle. If you terminate this pregnancy, I'm afraid you may never be able to conceive again." The doctor looked at Freda with concern. "Please think this through carefully. Maybe discuss it with your husband first."

Freda's fingers curled slightly, a sharp pain stabbing through her heart. Cyril had never told her about this. Whenever both families pressed them about having children, he'd always taken the blame, saying he wasn't ready to give up their alone time and didn't want a baby disrupting their perfect life.

Freda's eyes welled up. He'd always been so thoughtful, always trying to spare her feelings.

But no matter how good he was to her, it couldn't change the fact that he'd been cheating on her this whole time.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll think about it."

Freda walked out of the office in a daze, only to run into Cyril and Jolie in the hallway—they were back from Ireland.

Cyril was carefully helping Jolie out of the ultrasound room, his face etched with nervous concern. His tender, adoring gaze was fixed on Jolie's face, unwilling to look away for even a second.

"You don't need to be so worried, babe. I'm pregnant, not dying." Jolie's eyes crinkled with a smile.

"This is our first baby. I have to take good care of you both." Cyril's lips curved upward, unable to hide his joy.

Freda gripped her appointment slip tightly, coldness spreading through her entire body. She could almost hear the sound of her heart shattering, her eyes burning but unable to produce tears.

When despair runs this deep, even tears abandon you.

As Cyril helped Jolie into the elevator, Freda slowly unfolded her appointment slip and returned to the office to schedule surgery for the day after tomorrow.

She wouldn't allow her child to be born into a world built on lies, and she wouldn't let him grow up without a father.

In the underground parking garage, Freda encountered Cyril and Jolie again. Something compelled her to follow them in her car.

Cyril took Jolie to the revolving restaurant.

Freda's heart sank. The revolving restaurant was something Cyril had personally designed and built for her birthday last year.

He'd promised that only she would ever dine there.

Inside the revolving restaurant, Jolie sat in Freda's favorite spot, desserts spread across the table in front of her. In the distance, Cyril emerged pushing a serving cart.

He elegantly removed the flower from his lapel and handed it to Jolie. Dangling from the flower was a diamond-encrusted necklace. "Congratulations to my little princess on becoming a mom-to-be."

"Oh my God... this is incredible. I can't believe this is really happening." Jolie's eyes filled with tears. "And you cooked for me yourself."

"Let me just have one bite, then you should go. I've hogged you for way too long—you need to get back to Freda." Jolie blinked hard, forcing out a few tears.

Cyril's heart ached as he pulled her into his arms. "Don't be silly. I'm not going anywhere today. I'm staying right here with you."

"But what about Freda? Tomorrow's your wedding anniversary. If you don't go home to her, she'll be devastated."

"I've already taken care of everything. You don't need to worry about that." Cyril stroked her hair and fastened the necklace around her neck. "You're my wife now. From now on, I'll make more time for you and our baby."

Around the corner, Freda stumbled back two steps until her back hit the cold wall, her entire body trembling from the cold.

That's right—Jolie Hart was Cyril Prescott's legal wife.

And she was just some nameless fool.

She remembered the first time Cyril brought her to this revolving restaurant. He'd prepared a diamond necklace for her too, and to cook for her himself, he'd secretly trained with a Michelin chef for a whole month.

"Babe, taste this! I'm gonna cook for you every single day from now on."

"I'm going to love you for the rest of my life—only you." He'd fastened the necklace around her neck and whispered that promise in her ear.

Now Cyril had simply copy-pasted all that love and devotion for Jolie Hart.

Her chest felt tight and painful. Apparently Cyril's definition of "rest of my life" was pathetically short.

She turned and fled in heartbreak, tears streaming down her face by the time she left the restaurant.

At the law office, she had her attorney liquidate all her assets and return anything connected to Cyril back to him.

The inheritance from her parents was enough to last several lifetimes—she didn't need his money. She just wanted to cut all ties with Cyril as quickly as possible.

By dusk, she finally drove home.

The empty mansion had only a single light left on by the housekeeper. She collapsed exhaustedly onto the sofa, staring at the countless photos of her and Cyril covering the walls. Her heart felt like it had a boulder pressing down on it, each beat sending waves of excruciating pain.

She rubbed her temples and stood up to take down an entire wall of picture frames.

Their very first photo as children—she was wearing a pink dress, and he'd called her the most beautiful princess.

Their first dance together—his arm gently around her waist as he made her promise to only dance with him.

Their first official date—him spinning her around and around, shouting he was the happiest man in the world.

...

She pulled out each photo and fed them one by one into the paper shredder, watching all their memories get torn to pieces.

All night long, she repeated this mechanical motion, systematically destroying every trace of their past happiness.

By dawn, her arms had gone completely numb.

Chapter 3

Today was their wedding anniversary. Cyril posted a lengthy tribute on Instagram right at the stroke of midnight, expressing his deep love and gratitude for her.

Within hours, it had garnered over ten million likes and shares. Electronic billboards throughout the city played Cyril's personally edited romantic video on repeat, showing the world just how much he loved her.

A crowd had somehow gathered outside the villa. They'd carpeted the entire driveway with 1,825 roses, with a massive crystal hollow ring placed at the center. Inside the ring were designer clothes and handbags from top brands' latest collections. A small music box sat on top, playing Cyril's voice on repeat.

"Baby, happy anniversary. I love you."

Freda's expression remained blank. She closed her bedroom door and buried herself under the covers, as if none of this had anything to do with her.

Cyril called, his voice full of guilt. "Babe, something urgent came up with the deal. I can't make it home for our anniversary today, but I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back."

Listening to his pathetic lies, Freda suddenly laughed—a shaky, bitter sound. "It's fine."

"You're upset, aren't you baby?" Cyril immediately picked up on her tone. "I've prepared so many surprises for you. I hope you love them."

"I'm not upset. Work comes first. I'm not feeling well, gonna take a nap." Freda hung up coldly.

She curled into a ball, fighting to contain the pain in her chest.

The spectacle outside continued. Cyril's drones performed an aerial show, forming various shapes to express his love for Freda.

Reporters flocked to the scene, hoping to interview Freda and continue promoting their legendary love story.

Freda ignored it all. Her phone rang over and over again.

Seeing Cyril's name on the screen, her vision blurred once more. She wanted to answer and demand why he'd broken his promises, why he'd fallen in love with another woman.

Eventually, she simply turned off her phone and buried her head under the cover.

She didn't know how much time had passed when the covers were suddenly yanked away, harsh light flooding in and stinging her eyes.

Against the light, she saw Cyril looking absolutely wrecked—hair messy, face pale as a ghost, eyes wild with panic and fear.

The moment he sensed Freda's upset, he'd rushed home. He'd called her the entire way, but she never answered.

The instant he saw her, he pulled her tightly into his arms, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion. "Thank God you're home! Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Cyril's eyes were red, his body trembling uncontrollably. "I'll never leave you alone again. When you wouldn't pick up my calls, I thought I was gonna lose my mind."

"Nothing matters more than you. I came back to spend our anniversary together."

Freda said nothing. Thinking she was still angry, Cyril dropped to one knee and pleaded, "Please, baby, promise me you'll always answer when I call. Don't ever shut me out like that again—I can't handle it."

His panic and fear seemed genuine. He did love her.

"You got back pretty fast." Freda's lips curved in a bitter smile. Cyril's expression shifted slightly, guilt flashing across his face.

"You haven't eaten all day, have you? Let me take you to the revolving restaurant." Cyril changed the subject, gently brushing the hair from her forehead.

"No." Freda shook her head firmly.

Panic flashed in Cyril's eyes. "Then rest for a bit. I'll go downstairs and cook for you."

"Okay." Freda nodded coldly and turned away from him.

Thinking she was still angry, he took a deep breath and left the room.

About fifteen minutes later, commotion erupted from downstairs.

Freda went downstairs to find the living room full of Cyril's friends, all helping to hang the freshly reprinted photos back on the walls.

When they saw Freda, they all started putting in good words for Cyril.

"Freda, Cyril was scared out of his mind. I've never seen him this freaked out."

"Next time you're pissed, just tell us and we'll teach him a lesson for you. But don't throw away photos or turn off your phone again—it'll literally kill the guy."

"If he'd come home and still couldn't find you, Cyril would've completely lost his shit."

"Oh man, when he saw those bare walls, he nearly fainted! Then the crazy guy wanted to dig through the garbage."

...

"Alright, everyone stop!" Cyril emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron, looking angrily. "This is my fault. I hurt my wife, so she has every right to punish me."

"Wow, Mr.Prescott, you're such an amazing husband. You'd throw away your dignity for Miss Freda. She's so lucky." Jolie stepped out from the crowd, her face full of envy.

Cyril's expression remained calm as he smiled tenderly. "She's my wife. Of course I'm going to spoil her."

Freda felt sick to her stomach at his hypocrisy.

But she didn't want to expose him.

"Don't bother hanging the photos. I want to repaint the walls." Freda said flatly.

Cyril walked over and slipped his arm around her waist. "Forget the photos. My wife’s got the final say."

"Damn, you're such a wife guy." Someone teased, but Cyril didn't care.

He helped Freda sit on the sofa, then went back to the kitchen.

Cyril had made all of Freda's favorite dishes, but everything tasted like cardboard to her.

He kept serve her food with one hand while secretly holding Jolie's hand under the table with the other.

Freda suddenly felt utterly disgusted. She couldn't wait to get out of here, to get away from Cyril.

After dinner, Cyril didn't give Freda a chance to refuse. He knelt down to put on her shoes and socks, then carried her outside while his buddies cheered and whistled behind them.

Jolie laughed and joined in the teasing, but Freda caught the flash of venom and jealousy in her eyes.

Cyril had arranged a fireworks show over the harbor just for Freda, and even hired her favorite band to perform.

Halfway through the performance, Cyril excused himself to use the restroom.

Something compelled Freda to follow him.