Chapter 1

Prologue

I married the man who took me in after my parents died.

He used to be my entire world, the husband I thought would love me forever.

Yet only a few years into our marriage, he kicked me out into the cold for another woman and her son.

At that time, I was already carrying his twins.

When I fell down the stairs and lost our babies, he didn't even know he had been a father.

I lay in that hospital bed, drowning in grief all by myself, while he was on his knees across town, building Lego sets with another child and playing happy family with another woman.

That was the moment my heart turned to ash. I finally agreed to the divorce.

Clara's POV

My parents gave their lives to save the Sterlings. Julian raised me, and eventually, he made me his wife.

Only a few years in, he turned against me for someone else.

I had put everything I had into this marriage.

I was over two months pregnant, clinging to the naive hope that once our babies arrived, he’d finally look at me the way he used to.

Instead, he labeled me a monster and ordered his staff to throw all my belongings out of the main house.

So, I gave up. I decided to accept Arthur Sterling’s terms and sign the divorce papers. I wasn't going to wait for Julian anymore.

Back when we first tied the knot, everyone in New York envied me. They said I was the luckiest girl alive, spoiled rotten as Mrs. Sterling.

A few months ago, I caught him with that woman and her kid. Standing together, they looked like the picture-perfect family.

He just brushed it off. He claimed Serena had once saved his life, and that the boy was her late friend's kid. He told me he was only paying back a debt.

Tonight, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when I heard a boy crying in the guest suite. Before I could even check on him, Julian stormed in. He grabbed my wrist in a bruising grip and yanked me straight into the dining room.

"Did you do that?" He looked down at me, his voice dangerously low. "Clara, I asked you a question."

"No!" My wrist throbbed in his grip. "What happened to him?"

"What happened?" He let out a cold laugh. "He was playing just fine. The next second, his head hit the corner of the table. You're the only one who went into that room. You tell me—if it wasn't you, who was it?"

"He was fine when I brought the soup in," I said, struggling against his hold. "Check the cameras. Pull up the security footage!"

"The cameras are down," he said, ice coating his voice. "Conveniently right at that exact moment."

I was carrying his baby, and he had no idea.

Instinctively, I shielded my lower belly with one hand.

"Just because the cameras are down doesn't mean I did it," I pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Julian, please. Trust me."

"Trust you?" He acted like he’d just heard the funniest joke, squeezing my wrist even harder. "Clara, don't forget where you came from. Your parents died just so you could marry into my family. Every bite of food you eat, every piece of designer clothing on your back—I gave it all to you. I raised you, only to raise a vicious, ungrateful snake."

My parents' sacrifice had been reduced to a balance sheet.

Every meal, every coat I wore in this house was just another line of debt.

"A snake?" My eyes burned with tears as I stared at him. "I only went in there to bring him soup! I didn't even go near his bed! Did you see me touch him with your own eyes?"

"You want proof?" He took a threatening step closer. "He was completely fine. You walk in, the cameras magically cut out, and nobody saw a thing. You're telling me that's just a coincidence?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Serena's soft, comforting voice drifted from the guest room, and the boy's cries gradually died down.

Julian's face grew even darker.

The maids stood around with their heads down, terrified to breathe.

Suddenly, he swung his arm across the table. The dishes I had spent hours preparing crashed to the floor, shattering into sharp pieces. Hot soup dripped off the edge, splashing all over my shoes.

"Someone as twisted as you doesn't deserve to stay in this house," he said, turning his head away. "Get her things out of here."

"Julian," I took a step forward, my voice breaking. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why?" He glared down at me, his jaw clenched tight. "Because you crossed the line."

"I didn't do anything!" My voice finally trembled. "You didn't even bother asking for my side of the story!"

"What is there to ask?" He shoved my hand away, sending me stumbling back. "I saw the cut on his forehead with my own eyes. Clara, why couldn't you just accept him?"

"I couldn't accept him?" I let out a bitter, choked laugh as tears poured down my cheeks. "Julian, you've spent every single day of the past six months with them! When did I ever object?"

"Save the lies," he said, looking away in disgust. "I don't have time to watch you cry."

All I wanted was one sentence from him: *I know you didn't hurt him. I believe you.*

I stood there the entire night, waiting for those words. He never said them.

Footsteps echoed from the hall as Serena came out to get water.

In an instant, Julian's icy glare vanished. He hurried over, his voice instantly softening as he asked if the boy was okay.

Serena glanced my way, an expectant look in her eyes.

Without looking back at me once, Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked back into the room.

The door clicked shut behind them.

I stood there, frozen amid the shattered porcelain and spilled soup, from dusk until dawn.

The maids kept their distance. Nobody dared to clean up the mess.

A new girl took half a step toward me to help, but an older maid yanked her right back.

I got the message. Nobody in this house was allowed to care about me anymore.

I grew up here. Yet all it took was one word from him, and I was thrown out like trash, without a single person speaking up on my behalf.

I pulled my shoulders back and straightened my spine. I refused to let them see me break.

Throughout that endless night, every sweet memory of him flashed through my mind.

For a second, I thought about banging on that door. I wanted to tell him I was pregnant, to beg him to believe me.

My hand hovered in the air, but then his hushed, tender voice came through the wood, comforting the child.

My hand dropped back to my side.

I realized something: even if I had this baby, the moment those two cried, he’d throw me and our child away without a second thought.

I had waited six whole months for him to come back to me. All I got in return was a floor covered in broken glass.

I was done waiting.

I could raise my babies on my own.

As the morning light cracked through the windows, I moved my stiff fingers and pulled out my phone.

I dialed Arthur Sterling's private number.

His people had been waiting months for me to finally sign the divorce papers.

"I agree," I whispered, my voice cracked and dry. "I'll sign."

The person on the other end answered immediately, as if they knew this call was coming.

"Smart girl, Clara," the voice said smoothly. "Just one quick reminder. If Julian notices anything suspicious before the ink dries..."

A brief pause hung in the air.

"...Your parents won't be resting peacefully in their graves anymore."

I gripped the phone tightly as the morning sun flooded the room.

I didn't argue. I just agreed.

My parents were gone. If I couldn't protect myself, the least I could do was protect their final resting place.

From this moment on, until the divorce was final, Julian couldn't suspect a single thing.