Chapter 3

I became pregnant during the second year of our marriage.

Those ten months were the only time Ethan and I ever shared genuine tenderness.

He came home early every single day. He went on walks with me, accompanied me to every single prenatal appointment, and carefully monitored my meals.

Like any ordinary, loving father in the world, he would press his ear against my swollen belly and whisper soft words to our baby.

That brief period was so intoxicatingly sweet that it fooled me into thinking he had finally fallen for me.

I foolishly believed our marriage was finally blooming, and that he would be an amazing husband and father.

Ten months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

Ethan named him Leo Vance, after the Latin word for lion, representing his hope that our son would grow strong and lead the family empire.

He placed all his hopes on that little boy, and I became convinced I finally had a secure place in his heart.

Whenever Ethan held Leo, his cold eyes would melt with pure warmth.

I truly thought all my suffering had finally ended, and our little family of three was going to live happily ever after.

Until the day before Leo's one-month milestone celebration, when Chloe returned from abroad.

Back when Grandma Vance was still alive, she had exerted massive corporate pressure on Chloe's family to send Chloe overseas so she would stay away from Ethan.

I never imagined she would ever come back.

Yet she did. And she showed up uninvited to my son’s celebration.

The moment she stepped into the ballroom, Ethan’s eyes never left her.

I saw the lingering devotion and deep-rooted passion burning in his gaze.

Neither of them made a move at first during that awkward reunion.

Until Chloe pulled out a small, silk-embroidered protection sachet. She handed it to me, claiming she had gotten it blessed by a spiritual master specifically for the baby to wear around his neck to ensure health and ward off misfortune.

I didn't want to accept an unknown trinket from a woman like her, especially something to be worn against my newborn’s delicate skin. But before I could refuse, Ethan grabbed it and fastened the cord around Leo’s neck.

He claimed he didn't want me to insult Chloe’s pure intentions.

My stomach churned with unease, but I planned to take it off as soon as Chloe left.

After that day, Chloe constantly dropped by under the pretense of "visiting the baby."

Every time she arrived and saw the sachet missing from Leo’s neck, she would burst into tears in front of Ethan, crying that I looked down on her heartfelt gift.

And Ethan would scream at me, demanding that the sachet stay around our baby's neck at all times.

Neither of us knew that this was the beginning of an inescapable nightmare.

Slowly, my baby’s health began to deteriorate.

He suffered from constant vomiting, sudden fevers, seizures, and violent red rashes all over his fragile skin. He screamed in agony day and night.

I took him to every specialist in the city. The doctors diagnosed it as a severe food allergy.

But Leo was barely a month old and exclusively breastfed.

I knew he shared Ethan’s severe, life-threatening peanut allergy. I was paranoid about my diet; I never touched a single trace of peanuts or peanut oil.

We eliminated every possible trigger, but Leo only got worse.

I watched helplessly as my baby withered away in agonizing pain, unable to pinpoint what was poisoning him.

Until that terrifying night when his fever spiked dangerously high, sending him into violent convulsions. By the time the ER doctors finished CPR, his little eyes never opened again.

When the doctor delivered the news, my soul was ripped out of my chest. I collapsed completely.

I had already watched all my blood relatives die before my eyes, one by one.

I thought I would never have a real family again.

I had prayed so hard for this baby, but fate had cruelly shattered me once more.

My only child was gone.

I fell into an endless abyss of grief, losing twenty pounds in less than a month.

In my gut, I knew Leo’s death wasn't a tragic coincidence.

I ruled out every possibility until my instincts screamed at me: *that silk sachet.*

With trembling hands, I tore the embroidered pouch open.

Inside, there was no blessed parchment or holy charm.

It was packed with finely ground peanut powder.

A blinding, murderous rage consumed me—the fury of a mother who had lost her child.

I saw red. I wanted to tear Chloe limb from limb.

When I tracked her down, she was sitting right beside Ethan at his corporate office, going over files.

Right after returning to the country, Ethan had hired her as his personal executive assistant.

I didn't need to ask why. Ethan just wanted an excuse to keep her close.

None of that mattered anymore.

I kicked the office door open like a lunatic, lunging at Chloe in front of the entire executive staff, screaming and asking why she murdered my son.

To make Ethan see the true, vile face of the woman he idolized, I slammed the torn pouch and the lab report on his mahogany desk.

And what did I get in return?

A brutal, resounding slap across the face from Ethan.

"Stop using our dead son as an excuse for your paranoid tantrums!"

"He’s already gone, Sienna! What the hell is the point of being so vindictive?!"

I couldn't believe my ears. He spoke of our baby so dismissively, as if our son were nothing more than a stray dog that had died on the street.

"Ethan Vance! That was your own son! How can you be this cold-blooded?!"

I screamed until my vocal cords shredded, tears blinding my vision. Grief and fury tore through my veins, threatening to swallow me whole.

Chloe hid behind Ethan's tall frame, looking utterly terrified and delicate.

Yet peeking out from beneath that innocent mask was a glint of pure, malicious triumph.

I used to wonder what gave her the audacity to be so fearless, so ruthless.

Later, I finally understood.

It was love.

She had Ethan's unconditional protection and adoration.

And I had nothing.