Chapter 2

My husband never loved me.Our three-year marriage was something I shamelessly begged for. In a way, I have Sophia Reed to thank for that.

Her congenital heart disease meant she could never bear children for the Anderson family, giving me the perfect opportunity to swoop in.

I still remember the first time I met Steven Anderson. It was at a shopping mall.

I had been so busy with work that I skipped meals, and the low blood sugar hit me hard. Just as I was about to collapse at the edge of an escalator, a pair of hands pulled me back in time.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt, the faint scent of rubbing alcohol lingering on his sleeves. Even his hair was neatly combed.

“I’m a doctor. Let me help you,” he said, his deep eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses.

Later, I ran into him again at a late-night diner. He was drinking heavily while picking at a bowl of ramen.

The owner looked worried—it was almost closing time, but Steven’s table was crowded with empty sake bottles. His neck was flushed from the alcohol, his glasses lying forgotten on the table. His lashes trembled under the dim, flickering light.

“I know him,” I lied to the owner. “I’ll make sure he gets home.”

In truth, I didn’t even know where Steven lived.

I ended up dragging his drunken body into a cab and taking him back to my apartment.

That night, one thing led to another.

When I woke up the next morning, Steven was gone. The sheets were neatly made, as if nothing had happened. Only the marks on my skin served as evidence of what had taken place.

Later, I found $5,000 transferred to my bank account with a note:

“Sorry. Consider this compensation. If this feels inappropriate, I’m open to discussing further reparations.”

I didn’t touch the money, nor did I reach out to him.

But soon after, I found out I was pregnant.

When I told Steven, his face turned ice-cold. Without a word, he furrowed his brow and prepared to take me to the clinic to terminate the pregnancy.

But his father, Mr. Anderson, intervened.

Their argument erupted in the hospital office.

“This is the bloodline of the Anderson family. It must be kept, no matter what!” Mr. Anderson shouted.

“If your mother were still alive, she’d want to see you settle down and start a family. I’m getting old—I can’t wait until I’m seventy to hold a grandchild!”

“But Sophia has a heart condition,” Steven argued. “No matter how much I care about her, she can’t give us children. It’s better to hold onto this… temporary solution.”

“And what about the woman?” Steven retorted, his voice rising. “How can I ask an innocent person to bear all of this for our family?”

“You think I don’t know you don’t love her?” Mr. Anderson snapped. “But what is a marriage without love compared to the continuation of our family name?”

Steven had already told me he didn’t love me.

But in the end, he gave in to his father’s demands.

I suppose my willingness to overlook everything also played a part in this hasty, transactional marriage.

But the child didn’t survive.

The second argument I overheard—outside Steven’s study—sealed my fate.

He told his father that after I gave birth, he would give me a large sum of money and send me away from the Anderson family.

Shaken, I lost my footing on the carpet and fell.

That fall killed my first child.

Looking back, I wonder if that was the moment I should have left.

If I had walked away then, I might still be alive. I might have lost love, but at least I would’ve kept my life.

But I didn’t take the hint.

Steven fed me a spoonful of rice porridge after the miscarriage, and all my heartbreak evaporated in that single moment.

I was stupid enough to think I could try again—to bear him another child.

“The surgery went well,” Steven said, turning around. His surgical mask was splattered with blood.

On the operating table lay Sophia Reed, her eyes closed, her breathing steady.

The heart transplant had taken five long hours.

In those five hours, I’d relived every humiliating moment of my life as if it were a tragic comedy.

As the lights in the operating room dimmed, Steven walked toward his office. But before he could get far, Lila Harper stepped out of the shadows.

Without a word, she punched him square in the face.

“What the hell did you do to Ginger?” she shouted.

“What’s with the stitches on her body? Where is the baby she was carrying?”