Chapter 1

The moment my husband's ex, Lindsay, flaunted a property deed online, my marriage to James began to crumble. "Choosing the right man means choosing the right future," she captioned, while I fired back, "It's always better to rely on yourself." James called, screaming, "Stop causing trouble!" as Lindsay sobbed in the background.

I just stood there, frozen. By the time I snapped out of it, James had already hung up, and blocked me.

An hour later, Lindsay posted again. This time, it was a transfer agreement.

She now owned 50% of James's company shares.

His way of compensating her.

To me, it felt like a blatant challenge.

But this time, I didn't care.

When James finally walked through the door that night, I had just thrown away the empty syringe from my pregnancy-preserving shot.

It was our second pregnancy. I was only two months in, and the signs of a possible miscarriage had already started. That morning, I noticed some bleeding and rushed to the hospital. The doctor told me if I wanted to keep the baby, I needed daily injections, on time, every time.

But I hadn't planned on telling James. Not yet.

Instead, I had planned a nice dinner, one last time, to celebrate his birthday. He promised he'd come home. But as the hours dragged on, the only thing I saw was Lindsay's gloating post.

After that call, after he accused me of causing trouble, I numbly got up and threw away the meal I had spent hours preparing.

James stepped inside and immediately frowned. His eyes swept over the empty dining table, irritation flickering across his face.

"Did you forget what day it is?"

Of course, I remembered.

For eight years, no matter how busy I was, I always took the day off to cook his favorite dishes and bake his cake from scratch. I never missed a single year, even when I was just a junior employee, even after I became a senior manager.

But this year was different.

This year was the last.

And James hadn't even bothered to come home on time.

I didn't answer. Instead, I scrolled through Lindsay's old posts. That's when it hit me, ever since she became James's secretary, she had been flaunting expensive gifts. In just a year, she had received more from him than I had in eight years of marriage.

A cold, sarcastic smile curled at my lips.

"Spent nearly a million on her, and she still couldn't buy you dinner?"

James hadn't expected that. His impatience flared.

"What's wrong with you? Those were year-end bonuses. Secretaries work hard, so I gave her more. What's the big deal? Don't you understand management? Isn't that part of your job?"

"Oh? And do you also hand out company shares and river-view mansions to your regular employees? You're a very generous boss, James. Maybe I should quit my job and come work for you."

His face darkened just as his phone chimed. He glanced at the screen, and just like that, his irritation disappeared. A soft smile tugged at his lips.

I didn't need to ask.

It was Lindsay.

When he looked back at me, his voice was calmer, almost coaxing.

"I already explained everything. And I didn't even get mad about your comment on her post. If I had something going on with her, do you think I'd be standing here right now? What am I, a masochist who enjoys your cold stares?"

I ignored him and walked to the kitchen. Of course, he thought I was feeling guilty, ready to make dinner to smooth things over.

"Forget it," he sighed. "Don't bother cooking this late. I'll grab something from the cake shop. Can you imagine celebrating my birthday like this, dealing with your moods? What did I do to deserve this?"

As he spoke, I stepped out of the kitchen with a trash bag in hand. James froze.

Watching me warily, his voice turned sharp. "I'm just going to buy a cake. Why are you following me? What do you think I'm going to do in an hour? You're losing it. Why don't you just install a surveillance camera on me while you're at it?"