Chapter 2

Michael didn't come home all night, only returning at dawn to freshen up before preparing to leave again.

Last night's events had kept me awake all night. I listened to him making phone calls while washing up in the bathroom, his tone intimate.

Before leaving, he came to the bedside to kiss me, his voice gentle:

"Sophia, I've prepared breakfast in the kitchen. Remember to eat when you get up. I'm off to the company now. Love you."

The moment he closed the door, I opened my eyes and walked to the laundry basket near the bathroom.

His shirt collar was covered in lipstick marks, and his suit jacket and pants were stained with countless wet spots.

The maid knocked and entered upon hearing movement. I threw the clothes back into the laundry basket and instructed her:

"No need to wash these. Just throw away this entire basket. And ask the chef to prepare a lunch box for my husband. I'll take it to him at noon."

The maid was momentarily stunned but quickly regained her composure and agreed.

The reason was simple: previously, I had always personally prepared Michael's meals, never letting anyone else handle them.

But today, strangely enough, I didn't feel like doing any of these things for him.

When I arrived at the company with the lunch box, it was just around lunchtime. The employees coming and going all greeted me with "Mrs. Sullivan."

After all, the company's successful IPO was largely due to my networking efforts.

But I failed to notice the hesitant looks from the secretary and receptionist when they saw me.

Just as I reached the office door, I saw two intimate silhouettes through the transparent glass.

Michael's clothes and a woman's garments were scattered on the floor, accompanied by a series of seductive moans.

The woman sitting on Michael's lap turned her head, flashing me a challenging smile before leaning down to kiss Michael.

It was Anna.

I fled in panic, only wanting to escape this place. My hands shook so much I repeatedly pressed the wrong elevator buttons.

When I finally escaped to the lobby, I leaned against the wall, repeatedly dry heaving. The receptionist, seeing my condition, hurriedly brought me a glass of water to help me calm down.

I waved her off, thanking her, and handed her the lunch box:

"Thank you for your trouble. Please share these dishes with your colleagues. Don't tell Michael I was here."

I got into my car to compose myself, but message notifications kept interrupting my thoughts.

I opened my phone to check, and an unknown number was continuously sending photos.

The photos showed intimate poses between Michael and Anna, with Anna wearing my engagement ring on her ring finger.

I felt as if I had fallen into an icy abyss.

I don't remember how I got home, only that when I came to my senses, I had already packed up all my belongings.

I sat powerlessly by the bed, listening to Michael's voice message playing on the phone:

"Sophia, I have to work overtime tonight, so I'll stay at the company and won't be coming home. Get some rest early."

I laughed bitterly. Men are all the same, always using such clumsy excuses.

My phone rang, and I answered:

"Hello? Is this Mrs. Sullivan? This is City Hospital. The results from your previous check-up are ready."

Only then did I remember that I had gone to the hospital for a check-up due to feeling unwell.

At that time, because Michael said the company needed an investment, I had been too busy attending business dinners to secure funding and hadn't picked up the report.

"Congratulations, the report shows that you're pregnant. When would you like to come in with your husband for—"

"I want to schedule an abortion," I interrupted.

The person on the other end of the line clearly hadn't expected this development and uncertainly asked, "What?"

I repeated, "I said, I want to schedule an abortion."

The doctor was silent for a moment before saying, "Alright. Come in tomorrow for a check-up, and we'll arrange it for you."

I suddenly felt that Lucas was right.

I no longer wanted to be trapped in this ten-year relationship, sacrificing my own lifelong happiness.

0