Chapter 1

To save Ethan, I nearly destroyed my own chances of ever carrying a child.

Eight years of marriage, and he treated me with endless, gentle devotion.

Until I discovered he had built an entirely separate family long ago—he even had a daughter.

On the night of the Miller family’s grand banquet, I prepared two identical gifts for him.

One for the woman he truly loved, and one for himself.

He thought I was still that fragile, sickly wife who couldn't survive without him.

He had no idea that I had already let go.

Ethan, what you owe me is far too heavy for a simple divorce decree to settle.

Elena POV

As I hung Ethan’s suit jacket in the closet, my fingertips brushed against an inner pocket and found a velvet jewelry box.

It was a surprise he had secretly prepared.

That very evening, Ethan’s phone lit up on the nightstand, and I saw a woman named Madelyn.

In the video, a little girl around four or five wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice bright and clear as she chirped, "Daddy!"

Ethan had a family on the outside. He had for a long time.

Years ago, when Ethan fell into freezing water, I defied my family’s warnings and dove in to drag him to safety.

The bitter cold wrecked my health, leaving me chronically frail and weak. The doctors broke the news early on: it was unlikely I would ever bear children.

Now, my only plan was to divorce him.

My lawyer had already drafted the agreement. I willingly waived everything—no alimony, no shared property, walking away clean.

Walking out of the firm after finalizing the paperwork, my hands didn't shake once.

Ethan ran the Miller publishing and media empire. Everyone told me how lucky I was to marry him.

Over fourteen hundred doses of health tonics, and Ethan never missed a single day, personally measuring each one out for me.

I used to believe that when a man attended to a sickly woman with such care, there had to be genuine love behind it.

Tucked deep in my nightstand drawer were seven pregnancy tests. The double pink lines grew clearer with each one.

I had planned the timing meticulously. I wanted to hand the positive tests to him in person, curious whether he would frown first or instinctively reach for my medication kit.

Now, I had no intention of letting him know this child existed.

The pet fish I had kept on the balcony for five years were given away on Craigslist earlier today.

I was only waiting for the grand Miller gala to wrap up.

Ethan came home early that evening.

He tied on an apron, headed into the kitchen, and brought out the birthday cake and creamy mushroom soup he made for me once a year.

Setting the plate in front of me, Ethan sliced the cake.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, studying my face. "You lost weight again. Did you skip your supplements behind my back?"

I shook my head, picked up my fork, but didn't take a bite.

Ethan smiled. "What day is it? You didn't forget your own birthday, did you?"

"I remember," I said.

Ethan placed a slice on my plate. "Just that? Usually, you start talking about this cake two weeks in advance. I spent all afternoon baking it."

"I know. Thank you for your hard work."

I cut a piece with my fork, placed it in my mouth, and chewed slowly before swallowing.

Ethan ladled more soup into my bowl until it nearly spilled over the rim.

He had baked this cake every year for eight straight years, never missing once.

I used to look forward to this day, believing that this handmade cake was something only I in the entire world got to taste.

If a multimillionaire was willing to spend an entire afternoon in the kitchen for someone, that person had to be his one and only.

I treated that gesture as proof of his love, cherishing it for years.

Now, that proof felt like a slap in the face.

If he could stand in the kitchen all afternoon for me, he could cook for another woman at a different dining table.

If he could do it for both, then both were worthless.

I took a sip of soup, tasting nothing.

Over the years, Ethan never let me worry about his family's affairs.

Through forty-seven public banquets, he held my waist firmly every time we walked through the doors, telling everyone my health was delicate.

Behind closed doors, people sneered. They whispered that a childless wife occupying the Miller name would eventually have to make way.

I heard plenty of those rumors. Ethan always shut them down, and back home, he would gently hold me, telling me not to take it to heart.

Back then, my heart felt warm. Knowing someone shielded me made enduring the chronic illness feel worthwhile.

Now, looking back on those sneers, the outsiders hadn't been wrong at all.

Sitting at the dining table, my mind calmly checked off the list: my lawyer's name, the hospital appointment confirmation, the pickup time for the fish.

I had no intention of screaming or demanding an explanation.

There was no need to listen to another layer of lies.

Every sweet word he spoke would just force me to peel back three layers of deceit to find the truth, and I didn't want to endure another single day of that.

Ethan kept ladling soup into my bowl, telling me to drink up and build my strength.

I looked up at him.

The man before me looked no different from the struggling young man years ago, handsome and gentle.

I really wanted to see how that composed, perfect face would shatter when he heard that name.

My steady gaze made Ethan pause, his fork hovering midair.

I set my spoon down.

Looking at the cake I had eaten for eight years, my voice was as flat as checking the weather.

"Madelyn likes your cake too, doesn't she?"