Chapter 2

My stomach started cramping uncontrollably.

I leaned against the bedroom wall, sliding down to the floor, fighting back tears as I texted my lawyer.

My lawyer's call came back instantly. "Mrs. Vance, are you absolutely sure you want to waive all marital assets and leave with nothing?"

"According to the law, a pregnant woman is entitled to at least"

Marital assets?

I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.

There were no marital assets.

All of Julian's stock appreciation over the years was held through nominees, and all his assets were notarized as pre-marital property.

My name was never on the family trust's beneficiary list.

On the day we got engaged, he had casually mentioned that he wouldn't marry a woman who lived off him. He wouldn't hand over what he worked so hard to get just because of a marriage.

Back then, I thought he was just bitter because his father forced him to marry me to repay an old family debt. I knew how hard it was for him to inherit the Vance Group while fighting off a pack of ruthless half-brothers.

So, like an obedient fool, I signed page after page of property waivers.

I thought that one day, he would let his guard down and truly see me.

But seeing that asset transfer agreement, I realized how pathetic I was.

Every single asset on that list matched the exact items I had signed away at the notary office years ago.

It wasn't that he was unwilling to share. It was just that the wife he wanted to share it with wasn't me.

"Marcus," I interrupted him. "Please draft the divorce papers. I'm leaving with nothing."

My hands were still shaking when I hung up. Not from hesitation, but from pure rage.

Ten years of marriage felt like a long, elaborate scam, and I had willingly played the fool.

The password to Julian's hidden safe was Seraphina's birthday.

He was willing to give Seraphina everything, yet my monthly credit card limit was capped at five hundred dollars.

Even when I was seven months pregnant, vomiting my guts out, he was busy accompanying Seraphina to her private art exhibition.

And the most ridiculous part?

I was the one who designed their love nest.

Three months ago, Julian brought me a villa's blueprints, forcing me to work despite my severe morning sickness.

"A friend is gifting a villa to his partner. Design it to the highest standard, as soon as possible."

Now it clicked. That "friend" was himself.

And the elegant signature on the owner's line read "S.S." Seraphina Sterling.

The divorce papers arrived by evening.

My lawyer made one last attempt to persuade me. "Mrs. Vance, at least keep the money you earned yourself..."

I shook my head.

Julian hadn't contributed a single dime to our household expenses over the years. All my income as a designer had gone into running this house.

Looking back, I must have seemed incredibly cheap to him.

As I signed, the baby kicked violently, as if protesting, or perhaps comforting me.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I broke down and cried.