Chapter 1

When I was seven months pregnant, I decided to go to a local boutique to pick out some baby supplies.

Peering through the shelves, I froze. Across the aisle, my husband was leaning down, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind a strange woman’s ear.

"Oh, you recognize Mr. and Mrs. Vance too?"

The sales associate asked casually, her head down as she scanned the prices of the items in my cart.

"Honestly, who doesn't envy Victoria? They've been married for three years, and Ethan has never had a single scandal. He’s completely devoted."

"They were childhood sweethearts, and now they have a boy and a girl. They’re the ultimate power couple."

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white.

A boy and a girl? Power couple?

But the "Ethan Vance" she was talking about was supposed to be my husband—the ordinary, sweet guy who told me his parents died years ago!

Seeing my pale face, the sales associate gave me a suspicious look. "Do you know Ethan?"

She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my cheap maternity dress. A flash of contempt crossed her face.

"If you have any dirty ideas, I suggest you forget them."

"Ethan is a respectable man. He wouldn’t even glance at a woman like you."

She shoved past me, making me stumble. I instinctively covered my belly, panicking.

Then, I heard her whisper to another coworker, laughing mockingly.

"Look at her. She’s practically drooling over Ethan. Probably trying to be some rich guy's side chick."

"With a belly like that, I bet she doesn't even know who the real father is."

A side chick?

I stood there, paralyzed, unable to defend myself.

Just this morning, before he left for work, he had kissed me gently on the forehead.

He told me his company was swamped with meetings and told me to rest at home.

But could two people really look so identical? Down to the tiny scar at the corner of his left eye?

Ethan Miller told me he got that scar from a fall when he was a kid.

If he already had a family, a wife, and children...

Why did he court me? Why did he marry me?

Why did he turn me into the trashy, cheap side chick in everyone else’s eyes?

I wanted to run after him and demand the truth.

I had told him about my past. I told him my mother committed suicide by jumping off a building because she believed the sweet lies of a wealthy heir and ended up as his hidden mistress.

I, Evelyn, would rather marry a beggar than ever become someone’s mistress.

Why did he lie to me?

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me. I tripped over something on the floor and nearly fell.

Hearing the commotion, Ethan turned around. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he rushed over.

"Evelyn! Oh my god, are you okay? Why are you out here alone?"

His eyes were filled with genuine panic, and he held me close, whispering comfort.

But the expensive charcoal suit he was wearing was not the cheap office wear he had on when he left our apartment this morning.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm taking you to the hospital right now."

I grabbed his wrist, my voice cracking with tears.

"Ethan... are you hiding something from me?"

At my words, panic flashed through his eyes.

"Babe, what are you talking about?"

"Did someone say something to you?"

His eyes darted around, but he quickly composed himself.

"That woman... Victoria, she’s just a friend. We ran into each other and were just catching up."

"I didn't think you'd see us. I should have been more careful. I'm sorry I caused a misunderstanding."

"I promise, I will never let something like this happen again."

Ethan spoke with such sincerity, his gaze steady and clear.

I looked past his shoulder. Victoria stood there calmly, showing no intention of arguing.

If they were really husband and wife, she wouldn't just stand there in silence, right?

Before I could think further, Ethan scooped me up in his arms and rushed toward the hospital.

In his arms, my mind drifted back to the first time we met. He had held me just like this.

Back then, my mother had just jumped to her death, and my greedy uncle was trying to sell me off to a sixty-year-old slumlord to pay his debts.

I had run away, bruised and terrified.

Ethan was the one who saved me from the streets, took me to the hospital, and gave me a place to stay.

He told me he was an orphan, that his greedy relatives had stolen his inheritance, and that he was struggling to make a living on his own.

We fell in love in our tiny, cramped rented apartment, leaning on each other for survival.

Even though he was broke, he was incredibly refined and eventually got a decent job at a corporation.

I had my doubts back then, but I loved him too much to dig deeper.

Until the day he knelt on the worn-out carpet with a simple silver ring.

"I swear to God, Evelyn, I will cherish you for the rest of my life."

He took care of all our marriage paperwork alone.

After we got married, he handed his entire paycheck over to me.

Every time he came home from a business trip, he brought me little gifts—a cheap necklace, some pastries, or a bouquet of wildflowers.

He loved me so passionately. How could it all be a lie?

At the hospital, the doctor reviewed my ultrasound and wrote a prescription for some prenatal vitamins.

He smiled at the anxious Ethan.

"Both mother and baby are fine. Just make sure she gets plenty of bed rest."

Ethan let out a long, shaky breath and gently stroked my belly.

"Thank God you two are okay."

He knelt by my bedside, placing his cheek against my stomach, whispering softly, "Little one, be good. Don't stress your mommy out."

I saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

Ethan had been nothing but good to me. He was my savior.

I convinced myself that the sales associate must have made a mistake. Maybe Victoria was just a client, and the girl got confused.

I shouldn't doubt him.

With a lighter heart, I went home to rest.

But the very next morning, right after Ethan left for "work," our front door was violently kicked open.

I rushed to the living room, only to see Victoria standing there with a dozen burly men in black suits.