Chapter 1

When I married Julian, I was 22, he was 32.

He was ten years my senior, and let's just say his 'generosity' extended beyond his age, into aspects that left me breathless.

For three years, he showered me with endless affection, almost always giving me what I wanted, as if he'd pluck the stars and moon for me, cherishing me like a precious gem. Yet, when night fell, his demands were relentless. Even when I whispered my pleas, he’d just smile and refuse to stop.

I knew he had a lot of money and a lot of love, all for me.

Until the day my father passed away. I called him ninety-nine times; he hung up every single one.

The next second, I received photos from my best friend: "Chloe, is this your old man? I saw him hugging a woman on a street in Paris."

Opening the photos, seeing that man and woman, my heart felt like it had been thrown into ice.

The man was him.

And the woman was my Aunt Camila.

Julian only came home on the third day after my father's death.

As he opened the door, he saw me on the couch, my eyes red and swollen, my figure frail and thin.

His guilt peaked. He rushed over and pulled me into his arms, "Chloe, I had an emergency flight to Paris for a meeting. Because of the time difference, I missed your calls, so I couldn't be with you for the funeral."

"It's my fault. What can I do to make it up to you? Anything, just name it."

I listened to his explanation in silence, my face expressionless, like a still, dark pool.

I didn't say anything. I just took two documents from my bag, opened them to the last page, and handed them to him. "Julian, I want these two things. Please sign them."

Julian breathed a sigh of relief, quickly taking the pen and signing his name.

Seeing his unhesitating actions, my eyes welled up with red. "You didn't even look? Aren't you afraid what I asked for is expensive?"

Julian reached out and held me close. "Chloe, we're husband and wife. Everything I have is yours already. Once the baby is born, it'll belong to you and the baby. You can have anything you want, okay?"

As he spoke, he leaned down to listen to the baby in my belly. "Are we going for a check-up today? Is the baby kicking? Can I come with you?"

I stayed silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Julian took it as a 'yes' and helped me into the car.

The atmosphere in the car was heavy and silent.

Julian tried to find a topic, but his phone suddenly rang.

"Julian, I'm back in the country. I want to see you."

Being so close, I could clearly hear Camila's voice on the other end.

My hand involuntarily tightened. The next second, Julian hung up the phone. "Chloe, I have some work to take care of. Can you go to your prenatal check-up by yourself?"

I didn't expose his lie. I just opened the car door.

In the cold, desolate wind, I hailed a taxi. Memories flooded my mind, rushing past like the fleeting street scenes outside the window.

Years ago, I was in a car accident. The driver fled, and passersby, afraid of getting involved, didn't dare to help me. I lay in a pool of blood, on the verge of death, when Julian, like a godsend, picked me up.

That day, I fell in love at first sight with this man who was ten years my senior.

Luckily, the mature and steady Julian seemed to like me too.

We dated for a year before getting married.

Perhaps because of his age, he seemed to have endless patience. After we married, we never had a single fight. Gifts for me, anniversaries – he never missed a beat.

In life, he always considered my feelings, except in bed.

I couldn't understand why, even in his thirties, he had such boundless energy. So many nights, he would make me whimper and cry out, begging him to stop, but he would only kiss me again and again, smiling.

"My little silly goose, I love you, that's why I'm like this."

"The more we try, my darling, the sooner you'll give me a baby."

So, every night, my belly swelled and swelled again with hope, and finally, in our third year, I became pregnant.

Three days ago, my father had a sudden stroke. I rushed to him, only to hear him constantly muttering Julian's name, asking when he would come, wanting to see his son-in-law one last time.

Everyone knew he wanted to entrust his daughter to Julian at the end of his life, and they all tried to contact him.

But no matter what anyone did, I'd called him so many times, my phone almost died, yet I couldn't get through.

My father passed away with regret and resentment.

I thought he was just busy.

Until I finished arranging my father's funeral, and then immediately received that photo from my best friend.

I couldn't understand why my husband would be hugging my aunt.

My mind was a complete mess. Finally, I mustered the courage to enter Julian's study, a place he never allowed me to go.

As soon as the door opened, I felt as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss.

Because inside, everything was related to my Aunt Camila.

Walls covered in her photos, meticulously preserved love letters, countless unopened gifts, and a thick love diary that was still being written in.

Through this diary, I learned everything.

He had only been in love twice in his life.

One was me.

The other was my Aunt Camila.

They were college sweethearts, and their relationship had lasted a passionate ten years.

In their happiest times, he had accompanied her across the Atlantic, trekked through the Amazon jungle with her, and intimately embraced her under snow-capped mountains bathed in golden sunlight.

In their angriest moments, he had shattered millions worth of jewelry for her. After their breakup, he had swallowed his pride and flown overseas to win her back, even drinking himself sick until his stomach bled when he learned she had started a new relationship.

All his joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness in the first half of his life seemed to revolve around Camila.

And the reason he was with me was merely because, after breaking up with her, he wanted to find a substitute who resembled Camila.

So, he set his sights on her niece. After all, my face looked so much like my aunt's!

So, he orchestrated a hit-and-run accident, making me fall in love with him at first sight.

So, he made love to me day and night, only to get me pregnant.

But not because he wanted a child that looked like *me*, but a child that looked like *Camila*.

The moment I learned the truth, I was utterly thunderstruck, completely shattered.

It turned out the tenderness was fake, the love was fake, and even his sincerity was all fake.

He had thoroughly deceived me!

Though young, I knew I needed a clean slate, a clean heart, before anyone new could truly enter.

What's more, I was never anyone's substitute.

I was Chloe Davis, unique Chloe Davis.

But from the very beginning, he had been lying to me.

So, I would lie to him just this once. That felt fair.

Just now, I deliberately didn't tell him what he had signed.

One was a divorce agreement.

The other was an abortion report.

I was no one's substitute. A man whose heart isn't mine, I simply won't have him...

I walked into the hospital and handed the abortion consent form directly to the attending doctor.

"Hello, I want to terminate this pregnancy."