Chapter 1

For five years into my marriage with Dominic, I discovered he was secretly preparing to divorce me for some girl.

I still loved him.

Just as he was about to drop the divorce bombshell, I preemptively presented him with my pregnancy test results.

That night, Dominic stood on the balcony, smoking an entire pack.

After that, he broke things off with that girl.

It wasn't until I was six months pregnant that the girl herself showed up at our house, delivering her wedding invitation.

“Mr. Vance, my wedding is tomorrow. If you tell me to stay, I’ll cancel it for you.”

With those words, she placed the invitation down and burst into tears, running out the door.

Dominic stood up, ready to chase after her.

Watching his retreating back, I clutched my aching stomach and called out to him.

“Dominic, if you dare to leave today, I'll go to the hospital and terminate this pregnancy.”

Dominic froze for a second, but in the end, he walked out the door.

1

I found out Dominic was planning to divorce me because the company's legal team kept asking me to sign documents.

Changing the corporate legal representative, changing the company's official accounts.

Even our family home, Dominic was trying to sell at a low price.

And the company's cash flow—it had been profitable just six months ago, but this year it had been losing money for several months straight.

On top of that, Dominic was frequently away on business, often for more than half a month at a time.

Whenever I asked, he’d say the company was facing problems, and he was trying to turn things around.

I didn't expose his lies, nor did I tell him.

That video clip of him intimately kissing his beloved girl at a trending pop concert had even gone viral as a scandalous CEO affair on social media.

And the only reason I tolerated all this was because I still had feelings for him.

Five years of dating, five years of marriage—the end of such a long relationship couldn’t be simply severed by an affair.

So, even when he occasionally came home with hickeys.

Even when he sometimes came home reeking of a sweet, cloying perfume, the kind young women favored.

Even when he chose to sleep in his study, separating from me, unwilling to even touch me, I pretended not to know.

But I didn't want a divorce, yet Dominic did.

It just so happened that the lawyer he hired to draft the divorce papers was from a law firm I had secretly invested in.

So I not only knew how conflicted and agitated he was during this period of deciding on a divorce.

I even knew when he would hand me the divorce papers.

To save this marriage, I went to the clinic first and underwent IVF.

The night before he planned to propose a divorce, I even specifically FaceTimed him to call him home.

Dominic was extremely impatient about me calling him home.

That day, the meal I personally cooked for him was reheated three times by Mrs. Gable before he finally arrived home.

But he didn't even glance at the food on the table. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, he just gave me a cold nod and headed straight to his study.

After showering and dragging his feet for two hours, he finally emerged.

“Didn't you have something to tell me? Well, what is it?”

Dominic’s tone was cold and hard, just like how he spoke to his employees.

I didn't say a word, just calmly handed him the prenatal report.

“I’m pregnant. Two weeks.”

Dominic’s breath hitched, the veins on the back of his hand, clutching the report, bulged.

I knew why he was so emotional.

My mother had died during a difficult childbirth, giving birth to my younger brother. I had seen too many women compromise for the sake of marriage.

So, from the early days of my relationship with Dominic, I had told him I was firmly child-free and would never have children.

Dominic, blinded by love at the time, agreed without a second thought.

But after we got married, as he grew older, Dominic would occasionally bring up wanting children.

Each time, I refused, and I'd vehemently accuse him of breaking his promise.

Yet now, I was presenting him with a prenatal report.

He took several deep breaths, as if trying to regain his composure.

“Thank you, for being willing to compromise and have a child for me.”

He quickly grabbed the pregnancy report and stood up, almost stumbling.

He even hit his knee hard on the table leg from the force of it.

“Sorry, this news just… it’s too much of a surprise. I need a moment to calm down.”

With that, he hurriedly retreated to his study again, slamming the door shut.

It wasn't until the sound of the slammed door in the living room faded that I noticed.

The fruit knife I was clutching had already pierced my palm, and blood was dripping into the glass of water beside me.

2

That night, I only smelled smoke in the house.

But I knew Dominic must have smoked all night.

Even though our rooms were separate, the windows were far apart, and the scent of smoke was so thick, he must have smoked a lot.

The next day, I was informed by HR that Dominic’s new secretary had resigned.

And the company, which had been offloading some business, was now operating again.

The day I received this news, I caressed my still-flat stomach and cried until my pillow was soaked.

In the end, I hadn't let what was once a beautiful love story conclude with calculation and coldness.

After that, Dominic reverted to the loving husband he had been during our blissful times.

He would accompany me to every prenatal appointment.

He meticulously chose and re-chose the best recovery center for my postpartum care.

He bought endless piles of baby supplies, enough for the child until they were ten years old.

He did everything a father should do.

But he still stayed in his study, never moving back into the master bedroom, and never initiating any physical intimacy with me.

I even secretly caught him pleasuring himself to that girl’s photos and videos.

It was almost laughable, yet utterly sickening.

And now, here she was again, brazenly at the villa.

After provocatively delivering her wedding invitation and spouting a bunch of nonsensical things before fleeing.

Dominic didn't choose to explain himself to me.

Instead, he desperately wanted to chase after that girl.

Even when I called out, forbidding him to leave.

He turned, tormented and hysterical, and roared at me:

“Isabelle, I’ve already come back to our family for you. What more do you want from me?”

“She’s getting married tomorrow! Can’t I even say goodbye to her?”

I looked at his furrowed brow and the disgust he couldn't hide in his expression.

I wiped away the tears that involuntarily streamed down my face.

“No, you can’t, Dominic. If you go after that girl today, I will terminate the baby in my womb.”

Dominic’s entire body went rigid.

He stared at my face for what felt like an eternity before finally snapping, annoyance and hatred lacing his voice: “Isabelle, you are truly evil.”

Hearing his accusation, my chest ached, suffocating and numb.

Was I evil?

But for this marriage, to keep him, I pretended to be blind.

I went against my own wishes, enduring painful injections that left my belly bruised, all to carry his child.

Yet I tried so hard to keep him.

So why, in his eyes, had I become evil?

Tears poured down my face like a waterfall.

But my tears and the baby in my belly still couldn't keep Dominic.

Annoyed and impatient, he angrily kicked the sofa.

“Fine, go to the hospital. Terminate the pregnancy! Today, no matter what, I’m going to find her!”

Then Dominic, like a reckless twenty-year-old, frantically chased after the girl’s fleeing figure.

Watching his departing back, my fingers trembled as I dialed 91