Chapter 1

Prologue

Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive.

I came from nothing, an orphan from a run-down mining town, yet I married Julian Sterling, the billionaire heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire.

He defied his aristocratic family to put a ring on my finger, giving up a thirty percent stake in the family trust just to be with me. After the wedding, he spoiled me rotten, turning me into the envy of high society.

Until the day I found out he had fathered a pair of twins with Vanessa—the very girl who had ruthlessly tormented and bullied me in high school.

While I lay hemorrhaging in an emergency room, losing our unborn child, Julian was by her side.

My baby died, and with it, my heart turned to ash.

Since he could look me in the eye with fake devotion while betraying me in the shadows, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved.

I will stage a horrific car crash off a mountain cliff. I will make the whole world believe I am dead.

This time, I am vanishing from his world forever.

Clara's POV

Everyone thought I had struck gold.

A girl from an impoverished nowhere town, climbing the corporate ladder to become the top PR director in the city, only to marry a man like Julian Sterling.

The press speculated that I was a gold digger who used cheap tricks to trap him. Nobody believed I genuinely loved him.

And God, I really did.

Until that morning, when my fingers brushed against a pediatric health report hidden deep inside the inner pocket of his bespoke suit.

The hospital hallway lights were blindingly bright, and the smell of bleach made me nauseous.

I leaned against the cold wall, my phone pressed against my ear, keeping my voice down to a harsh whisper.

"Chloe, I need you to stage a car crash for me."

A heavy silence hung on the other end for three full seconds.

"What did you just say?"

"A rental car. Mountain pass. Breaking through the guardrail and plunging off the cliff," I said, staring at the closed door of the room at the end of the hall. "Everyone needs to believe I died on impact."

"Clara, have you lost your damn mind?" Chloe’s voice cracked in shock. "Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

"I know exactly what I'm asking."

Of course I knew.

I thought about how I had clawed my way to where I was today.

I never talked about my childhood in that destitute mining town. Even Chloe only knew fragments.

At thirteen, I learned a brutal truth: relying on anyone else is a death sentence. The only person who will ever save you is yourself.

Nobody knew the hell I survived.

I started as an unpaid intern, working eighty-hour weeks until I made director. Every crisis management campaign that passed through my hands was a flawless success.

In our industry, my name stood for perfection.

Then Julian walked into my life.

When he pursued me, he waited outside my office tower every single night for three months.

Rain or snow, he stood there with an umbrella. If I worked until two in the morning, his sleek black Maybach was parked by the curb.

To marry me, his family stripped thirty percent of his company shares and cut him off.

On our wedding day, his parents refused to show up. He held my hands tightly and whispered, It doesn’t matter. Having you is enough.

After we tied the knot, he replaced every single female assistant with male staff. He shared his real-time GPS location with me 24/7. At every high-profile charity gala, he proudly walked me down the red carpet, showing off his love for the cameras.

When tabloids ran smear pieces mocking my humble background and claiming I was unworthy of him, he sued the media outlets into bankruptcy.

I thought I had finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

I truly believed this man loved me with his whole soul.

Until last month, when I found that pediatric health report in his suit pocket.

Two children. A pair of twins.

And in the guardian signature line, two names were penned in ink.

Julian Sterling.

Vanessa Shaw.

I stood in our walk-in closet for hours, clutching that single sheet of paper.

I didn’t scream. I didn't cry. My hands weren't even shaking.

I just couldn't wrap my head around it. Vanessa—the girl who made my teenage years a living hell, the same girl Julian had supposedly ruined through cutthroat corporate tactics—had borne his children.

Twins.

I didn't sleep that night.

I sat in the study, meticulously combing through every calendar entry since our wedding day.

My business trips. The weekends he claimed he had "urgent board meetings." Everything suddenly aligned with chilling clarity.

The following morning, an audio message pinged on my phone.

Sent from Vanessa.

I tapped play. First came rustling, followed by two sweet toddler voices calling out in unison:

"Daddy!"

"Daddy, pick me up!"

Then came Julian's voice, carrying a tenderness I had never heard before, softly answering:

"Here I am, babies. Daddy’s got you."

Listening to that clip, my chest seized as if a cold fist had clamped around my heart, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

Black spots danced in my eyes. I slid down the wall and everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed.

Julian was slouched beside me. Deep dark circles bruised his eyes, and his jaw was covered in thick stubble. The moment he saw me wake, color rushed back into his face. He lunged forward, clutching my hands desperately.

"Clara! How do you feel? The doctors said you suffered acute cardiac distress. You scared the absolute hell out of me—"

He told me he had abandoned a multi-billion-dollar merger signing halfway across the country just to rush back and watch over me for two days straight.

His grip was bruisingly tight, as if terrified I would evaporate into thin air.

On the nightstand sat untouched takeout trays, completely cold.

Looking at his hollow eyes and disheveled state, for one fleeting second, I almost believed him again.

The doctor entered for rounds and asked Julian to step outside before giving me the diagnosis.

"Mrs. Sterling, you're two months pregnant," the doctor said, frowning over my chart. "Your vitals are severely compromised, and your body is under extreme stress. Carrying this baby to term will be very difficult. You need to prepare yourself mentally."

I lay against the pillows, resting a trembling hand on my lower belly, utterly speechless.

I was carrying his baby.

And he already had two outside our marriage.

When Julian walked back into the room, he brought with him a faint trace of expensive, cloying women's perfume.

It wasn't my scent. It was sweet, bold, and unapologetic—left behind intentionally.

The scent hit my nostrils, and my stomach violently heaved. I jerked my head to the side, retching dryly.

"What's wrong?" Julian immediately patted my back, looking terrified. "Are you feeling sick? I'll call the doctor—"

"No need," I murmured softly. "It's just morning sickness."

He froze. Then, a massive grin broke across his face, and he gathered me into a breathless hug.

"Clara? You're pregnant? We're having a baby?"

He cheered like an excited little boy, repeating how wonderful it was, babbling about how he would give our child the world, how nothing would ever be denied to them.

Buried against his chest, inhaling that suffocating stranger's perfume, a naive whisper echoed in my heart: Maybe you should give him one last chance.

Maybe he will turn back.

Maybe this baby will bring him home.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down at the screen, and his smile vanished.

"Something urgent came up at the firm. I need to take care of it," he said, tucking the blanket around my shoulders. "Get some rest, baby. I'll be right back."

"What kind of business?" I asked quietly.

"Just a sudden crisis." He couldn't meet my eyes as he grabbed his coat and hurried toward the door.

As his shadow vanished into the corridor, my phone buzzed again.

A picture message from Vanessa.

In the photo, Julian sat on a plush carpet, holding a twin in each arm, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled.

The background was a lavish nursery I had never seen before, decorated with animal decals and strewn with toys.

Both toddlers looked strikingly like him.

The exact same hazel eyes. The exact same sharp nose.

I stared at the screen for an eternity.

Then, I laughed.

And as I laughed, tears spilled over my cheeks.

My fingers trembled slightly as I scrolled through my contacts, found Chloe’s number, and hit call.

It connected after two rings.

"Clara? What's going on?"

Leaning against the cold hospital wall, staring down the bleak corridor, my voice was unnervingly dead.

"Chloe, arrange a car crash for me."

"A mountain pass. Into the ravine."

"Make sure everyone thinks I'm dead."