Chapter 1
On our fifth wedding anniversary,
I received a mysterious package.
Inside were intimate photos of my husband, Ethan Walker, and his assistant.
The timeline stretched back far—far longer than five years.
The most recent photo was taken just two weeks ago, showing him at the beach with his assistant and our daughter.
In the photo, they were laughing so brightly, like a perfect little family of three.
Swallowing my emotions, I took the prescribed abortion pills and picked up my phone to send a text.
"Mom, I’ll take your advice and file for divorce. I’ll come back next month to take over the family business."
The doctor’s regretful words still echoed in my ears as I left the clinic.
“Mrs. Walker, the baby’s heartbeat is strong. At your age, it might be difficult to conceive again. Are you absolutely sure about this?”
“Maybe you should discuss it with your husband one more time?”
Staring at the tiny spot on the ultrasound, I steeled myself and swallowed the mifepristone.
Before the effects of the medication kicked in, I stopped by the farmers' market to buy a pile of fresh ingredients.
Back home, I cooked a table full of Ethan’s favorite dishes.
I sat silently on the couch, waiting for him to return—from morning until the sun set.
The food grew cold, and the candles on the cake melted down to their stubs.
Ethan never came home.
Just then, his assistant, Sophie Quinn, updated her Instagram story.
The photo showed a man’s hands, wearing an apron, frosting a cake.
The caption read: "How sweet of him to remember our ten-year work anniversary. Who says men can’t be romantic? Mine’s the exception."
I recognized those hands immediately.
The elegant fingers, the faint scar between the thumb and index finger.
That scar came from last year, when Ethan wrestled with a stray dog to protect me.
He used to joke that it might even affect his precision during surgery.
Now, those hands that once wielded a scalpel with skill were busy cooking for someone else.
As the evening turned to night, he finally opened the front door.
He looked surprised to find me sitting there alone with a table full of cold dishes.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d be working late? I said not to wait for me for dinner.”
I stretched my stiff body and began clearing the table, tossing the food into the trash.
“It’s fine. I already ate. I just hadn’t cleaned up yet.”
He noticed the cake on the table, his expression briefly flickering with unease.
“Why is there a cake? Is today some kind of occasion?”
I casually removed the “Fifth Anniversary” topper and replied flatly, “No reason. I just wanted cake.”
He exhaled, visibly relieved, walked over, and kissed my cheek with practiced ease.
“You’ve had a long day. I’m pretty tired—I’ll head to bed first.”
Juggling two women must be exhausting for him.
Chapter 2
The next morning, I got up early, just like always, to make breakfast for Ethan and our daughter.
My daughter frowned at the bowl of oatmeal in front of her, letting out a dissatisfied whine.
“Why are we eating this again? I want a ham and cheese sandwich!”
I patiently explained, “Sandwiches aren’t healthy. Eating this is good for your stomach.”
She pouted and yelled at me in frustration.
“You’re so old-fashioned! Aunt Sophie says I can eat whatever I want!”
“I want Aunt Sophie to come live here and be my mom. I don’t want you to be my mom!”
My hand froze mid-motion, the ladle trembling in my grasp.
It felt like my heart was being torn apart piece by piece.
This precious child, whom I had conceived through endless IVF treatments and injections, had just said something so cruel.
Ethan quickly glared at her before taking the ladle from my hands with a forced smile.
“Don’t take what she says to heart. Kids say the darndest things. Sophie’s just my assistant. Come, sit down—I’ll serve you.”
I didn’t call him out. With trembling hands, I sat down and quietly ate breakfast as if nothing had happened.
After they left for the day, my phone buzzed with a message.
“I’m glad you’ve made up your mind. I’ll take care of everything on my end. You can step in next month.”
I replied with a single word: “Okay.”
My parents had never approved of my marriage to Ethan. Back then, I had fought them tooth and nail to be with him.
A few years was all it took for me to see him for who he truly was and come back to reality.
“Do me a favor. I want them to have no chance to recover.”
A sharp pain suddenly twisted in my lower abdomen—perhaps the pills were starting to take effect.
The pain was unbearable, and in desperation, I called Ethan.
But a woman answered the phone. Her voice was sugary sweet, laced with deliberate provocation.
“Ethan’s busy right now. What do you need from him?”
“If it’s nothing important, don’t call again. He’s got no time to waste on someone like you.”
I said nothing, quietly ended the call, and dialed 911 instead.
The ambulance arrived quickly.
At the hospital, the doctor informed me that the procedure hadn’t worked completely, and I needed to undergo a surgical cleaning.
Lying on the operating table, I trembled with fear as my phone buzzed with a message from Ethan.
“I’ll be on a work trip for a few days.”
Coincidentally, Sophie updated her social media, announcing her trip to the Maldives.
I simply replied to Ethan’s message with a single word: “Okay.”
Then I turned off my phone and let the tears flow freely on the cold operating table.
My mother worked fast.
She had already gathered all the evidence of Ethan’s affair with Sophie, handed it to a lawyer, and prepared the divorce papers.
All that was left was my signature to end it all.
Chapter 3
When I was discharged and returned home, Ethan finally remembered to call me, his tone filled with irritation.
“Claire, where the hell have you been while I was on my trip? Don’t you know you’re supposed to pick up our daughter?”
I stayed silent. During his so-called “business trip,” Sophie Quinn’s social media had been buzzing with updates.
The two of them were clearly having a great time abroad, so much so that they didn’t even bother to hide it from me, the wife.
I replied flatly, “I’ve been busy these past few days. I sent our daughter to my mom’s.”
He paused, clearly caught off guard. My attitude toward him had never been this cold before.
Sensing my mood, he softened his tone.
“I know I’ve been busy lately and haven’t spent much time with you. Once things settle down, I’ll take you to the Maldives for a getaway.”
I responded lightly. Early in our marriage, I had eagerly suggested a honeymoon in the Maldives.
It was a place I had always dreamed of visiting, but he had brushed me off impatiently.
“It’s too far. I don’t have time for such a long trip. Let’s just go somewhere nearby for a couple of days.”
Back then, I had sympathized with the challenges of his new business and told myself that a short trip to the beach would suffice.
But as soon as we arrived, he took a call from Sophie and left me there alone.
This kind of thing happened countless times, and every time, like a fool, I forgave him and waited for him to come back.
But in the end, I was the only one moved by my efforts.
He hesitated before adding, “Honey, the company’s anniversary gala is coming up in a few days. I’d like you to come with me.”
“There will be many partners and influential people there. Make sure you dress nicely.”
I clenched my fists and replied, “Alright. I understand.”
Ethan had been riding high on his business success for two years, convinced it was all his own doing.
He had no idea that I had been silently supporting him in the background—funding his ventures and using my parents’ connections to help him succeed.
I had kept it from him to avoid making him feel pressured.
But now, it was time to take it all back.
