Chapter 3

Clara's POV

Two days later, Ethan brought Miki’s baby home in his own arms.

He told me the child belonged to an old friend who had recently passed away, leaving both parents dead, and that he couldn't bear to see the orphan abandoned.

As he spun this lie, he gently placed the swaddled infant into my arms, his face painted with tender sincerity.

Looking down at the sleeping little face, I marveled at how someone could tell such a blatant lie while looking so deeply devoted.

"Both of his parents are really gone?" I asked softly.

"Really gone. He has no family left. Just think of him as our own child."

*Our own.*

Ethan used that phrase to disguise his ultimate betrayal as a thoughtful gift to me.

He took my hand, continuing his soothing pitch: "You were sick for so many years for my sake, and it's almost impossible for you to have kids now. I don't want you to be lonely when we grow old. Once the legal paperwork is sorted out, we'll finalize the formal adoption. He'll be ours."

I almost laughed out loud.

He knew exactly why my body was ruined. He knew how desperately I had once dreamed of having a family with him. Yet here he was, tearing open my deepest wound just to pave a smooth path for his mistress's child.

In that moment, holding a baby in my arms, my heart silently let go of every future I had ever imagined with him.

The infant lightly curled his tiny fingers around mine in his sleep, and my heart softened despite myself.

I didn't hate this innocent baby. In fact, because I couldn't bring myself to hate a child, it made Ethan's cruelty stand out even more glaringly.

He was exploiting my soft-heartedness toward children, packaging his infidelity into a late-arriving happy ending—as if the more gently I accepted it, the more it proved his scheme was the right thing to do.

"Is he just a month old?" I asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, he came nearly a month earlier than expected, but the pediatrician said he's completely healthy."

"Did he get a comprehensive check-up?"

Ethan paused for a split second. "Miki—I mean, the clinic said everything routine was taken care of. He's still fragile, so we just need to take good care of him."

I took mental note of that slip.

The brief hesitation in his voice sparked my suspicions about the baby’s actual birth date and medical records. Clearly, Ethan hadn't looked into it thoroughly either.

I didn't press the matter. Instead, I looked up with a small smile. "Alright. We can keep him."

Ethan blinked, clearly caught off guard by how readily I agreed.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"On the family background declaration, write the birth mother as deceased. I’ll only sign a temporary guardianship form for now. Until the baby's exact background and origins are fully verified, I won't sign any permanent adoption papers."

The tender look on Ethan’s face flickered. "Why does she have to be listed as deceased?"

"Because a child can only have one mother," I said, looking straight into his eyes. "Since you claim you’re giving him to me, his birth mother can never show up again. Unless... you're planning on letting her come back anytime she wants to take the spot I kept warm for her?"

I deliberately acted out just the right amount of jealousy.

Relief washed over Ethan’s face, and he didn't question my doubts about the baby’s background any further. "Fine."

Late that night, I overheard him on the balcony, placating Miki on the phone: "The boy is already inside the Miller house. The status and title you want will be yours eventually. Just be patient for a little while. Once this transition is over, I’ll give you the life you deserve."

One woman was waiting for her title, while the other was playing nanny to his child.

Ethan had calculated a neat arrangement for both women, but he never once bothered to ask if I consented.

Standing in the dark hallway, my chest didn't hurt as sharply as I thought it would.

When love begins to die, it doesn't always go out with screaming matches and shattered plates.

Sometimes, you just suddenly realize that behind every single gentle word from that person lies a cold calculation to keep you obedient.

From that day on, I genuinely learned how to care for the infant.

I woke up in the middle of the night to mix formula, rocked him back and forth in my arms, and whenever his tiny hand gripped my finger, I would wonder for a fleeting second: if this were a child born of me and Ethan, would our lives have unfolded entirely differently?

But the moment daylight broke, I pulled myself back to reality. This child was not a gift from fate; he was living proof of Ethan's betrayal.

I could care for an innocent baby, but that didn't mean I would ever forgive the man who brought him to my doorstep.

I finally learned to draw the line between kindness and endless submission, securing my final boundary before walking out of Ethan's life for good.

The more gentle and obliging I acted, the less Ethan bothered to hide his calls from Miki.

While tucking the blanket around the baby, I quietly calculated the days left until my departure.

Two more weeks. That was all I needed to secure enough travel funds and living expenses for my new life.