Chapter 1

The night I lost my baby in a car accident, Alexander happened to drive by with his assistant. He took one look at my blood-soaked dress, shielded her eyes, and muttered, "What bad luck. Don't look." Then he stepped on the gas and disappeared.

Later that night, while putting away some clothes, my fingers brushed against something unfamiliar in the back of my closet, a piece of lace lingerie. Delicate. Expensive. Definitely not mine.

I shut the closet door, exhaled slowly, and picked up my phone.

"Mr. Johnson," I said, my voice calm. "I've made up my mind. I'll leave the city and start at your company next week."

...

"That's wonderful, Rachel. Welcome aboard."

The moment I ended the call, Alexander stepped out of the bathroom. His hair was still damp, droplets clinging to his skin.

He used to take five-minute showers. Lately, he'd been bringing his phone in with him, staying in there for at least half an hour.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, eyes still glued to his screen.

"Mr. Johnson."

"Oh."

That was it. No reaction. No curiosity. Just a meaningless acknowledgment.

I knew he hadn't actually processed what I said, just like always.

But this time, I didn't repeat myself. I didn't argue. Didn't push for attention that was never mine to begin with. Instead, I picked up my phone and started drafting my resignation letter.

When Alexander reached for his water glass and didn't see the herbal tea I made for him every night, he finally looked at me.

"I had an orthopedic specialist check your CT scan," he said. "You're fine. Just some superficial injuries. Try not to get the wound wet."

I didn't even glance up. "Okay."

This afternoon, I had received eight stitches in my leg from the accident. I had also been diagnosed as four weeks pregnant, with a threatened miscarriage.

The doctor had said, almost apologetically, that if I had been brought to the hospital sooner, the baby might have been saved.

Alexander frowned at my indifference and moved toward me, probably to see what I was so focused on.

But then his phone vibrated.

And just like that, I ceased to exist again.

His entire demeanor shifted as he turned away, a smile tugging at his lips as he walked into the study.

I unlocked my alternate account and checked his social media.

A new post, visible to everyone except me.

A cutesy little apology.

"I shouldn't have broken my promise to the cutest assistant in the universe. I said I'd leave work on time and take my little assistant out for a feast, but because of work, I made her starve for a whole ten minutes. What a terrible boss I am. I promise to do better next time!"

I liked the post.

Then, without hesitation, I opened the contract Mr. Johnson had sent me and signed my name.

The next morning, Alexander woke up early and brought home breakfast from a famous old shop.

I opened the container of crab roe pancake, only to flinch as my hand was smacked away.

"Don't you like pancakes?" he frowned. "I got you shrimp pancakes."

I froze.

Then realization settled in like a dull ache, those pancakes weren't for me.

They were for her.

Seven years together, and he still didn't know I was allergic to shrimp.

I looked up at him. "We've been dating for seven years, and you don't know I can't eat shrimp?"

Alexander's expression flickered, briefly, barely, before he stood up abruptly, his voice turning cold. "Stop making a fuss. Eat it or don't."

He turned to leave.

I didn't stop him. I simply got up, went into the bedroom, and returned with a bag.

"When you see Olivia later, return this to her for me."

Alexander glanced inside.

His face darkened at the sight of the lace lingerie.

He opened his mouth, like he wanted to explain. But when he saw how calm I was, how I had no intention of fighting, he just let out a slow exhale.

"I'll tell Olivia to be more careful next time."

I smiled faintly. "Mmm."

For the first time, silence stretched between us, heavy and unfamiliar.

Maybe that's why, when Alexander finally spoke again, his voice was almost hesitant. "I'll drive you to work."

I nearly laughed.

In seven years, not once had he offered to drive me, not even in a storm. He always insisted on keeping work and personal life separate.

But Olivia?

From her very first day, she had enjoyed the luxury of his personal chauffeur service.