Chapter 1

Everyone said I'd bet ten years of my youth on the right man.

I'd built Delgado Corp with Benedict Delgado from nothing, always believing that even if the day came when he made it big, he'd never throw me away.

On the day the company went public, I pushed open the conference room door and saw a woman's legs sticking out from under his desk.

Before I could say a word, Benedict kicked her out with one shove of his foot.

"Go to HR and file your resignation."

The woman crawled out from under the desk, crying, and scrambled away.

But that same night, in the family reunion photo my mother-in-law posted for the holiday,

I saw the secretary standing where I should have been, at Benedict's side, wearing my dress.

When Benedict came home, he pushed the divorce papers across to me.

"She's pregnant."

His voice was low and rough.

"The doctor said it's almost impossible for me to have children. This is my only bloodline."

"I can't let my future heir be born without a proper name."

When my eyes reddened, he softened, which was rare for him.

"Don't cry."

"The company can't go to you, but the shares you hold, I'll cash them out in full at today's market price."

"The house, cash, other assets, whatever you ask for, I'll compensate you as much as I can."

I said nothing, lowered my head, and signed.

What Benedict didn't know was that I wasn't crying because I couldn't bear to let him go.

I was crying because the evidence of the company's financial fraud would reach the regulators tomorrow.

I'd been agonizing over what to do with it.

And he, right before the whole thing blew up, was personally handing me a fortune in cash, sending me off to cash out and walk away.

This time, I really had bet right.

The money was mine.

The cheating bastard and his company could rot together.

1.

Once the papers were signed, I pushed the itemized list my lawyer had prepared across to Benedict.

"The shares in my name get cashed out at today's closing price. The property and other assets split according to the agreement."

"Once the paperwork's done, I'll resign from every position I hold at the company."

The more Benedict listened, the deeper his brow furrowed.

Until I turned to the last page.

"And this apartment. I'm planning to sell it."

Benedict's head snapped up.

"Sell it?"

"Mm."

My tone was calm.

His face darkened.

"This is our marital home."

"We chose everything together back then, from the renovation to the furniture."

He glanced around without thinking, and his voice dropped.

"Did you forget? Your health wasn't good then, so I moved the master bedroom to the sunny side just for you. Redid the bathroom with anti-slip. Even had the kitchen counter built to your height—"

He stopped halfway through.

He must have finally remembered.

The one who'd put this home together with me, piece by piece, was him.

And the one asking for a divorce now, the one throwing out the wife who'd weathered more than ten years by his side, was also him.

Something like shame flickered in his eyes.

It was a long moment before he said, hoarsely,

"You don't have to sell it. Keep it. Live here."

I shook my head.

"Forget it."

"The better the past was, the harder it'll be to stay here alone, looking at all of it."

Benedict had nothing left to say.

After a long silence, he suddenly spoke:

"Then sell it to me."

Like he was trying to make up for something, he named a figure on the spot.

I froze for a couple of seconds.

Three times the market value.

I did the math in my head without meaning to.

The shares cashed out, the divorce compensation, and now this apartment.

Once all of it was transferred out of Benedict's personal accounts, the cash he had on hand would be nearly drained dry.

I didn't say anything for a moment.

But Benedict misread my silence.

He looked at me, and for the first time, plain guilt surfaced in his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I know. None of this makes up for your ten years."

He paused, and his voice went lower.

"I know it's my fault. I wronged you."

"Actually..."

His throat bobbed.

"The one I love is still you."

My fingers stilled for a second.

He looked like he'd finally found a reason to explain himself.

"But there's nothing I can do."

"My mother's half out of her mind over this baby."

"Eudora Sullivan, you know how much it's eaten at her all these years, you not having a child...."

I suddenly remembered, a few years back,

my mother-in-law had dug a premarital gynecology report out of my drawer.

It was nothing but a common infection,

but once she learned I'd had a boyfriend before marriage,

she went around pouring her heart out to anyone who'd listen, saying I'd had an abortion in my youth, that I'd wrecked my body and left her son without an heir.

It was only after tests showed the real problem was Benedict that she quieted down for a while.

Something dawned on me, and I asked, half in disbelief, half at how absurd it was:

"So your mother still thinks I ruined my body with an abortion and held you back?"

Benedict was silent for a moment, then said bitterly:

"I know you didn't...."

"But you know how it is. My mother isn't educated, she doesn't understand any of this. Now that Angela Swanson's pregnant, my mother's going to think... that she was right all along."

Seeing my face fall,

he rubbed his brow wearily, as if he were the one this divorce was hardest on.

"I know it's ridiculous, but she got down on her knees and begged me."

"She said she'd give up everything, she only asked that I not let this child be called a bastard the moment it's born."

"I can't just stand by and watch my own mother threaten to end her life over this, day after day."

Benedict looked at me, his voice low and hoarse.

"Don't hold it against me. I just want to put her mind at ease first."

I said nothing, only pressed a trembling hand to my stomach.

The truth was, that holiday night, I'd been planning a surprise. I wanted to tell him he was going to be a father.

I just never imagined that his betrayal would come sooner than my surprise.

Benedict watched me for a long while, then suddenly reached out and covered the back of my hand.

"Actually, if you don't want the divorce..."

"We could still—"

I pulled my hand out.

"Benedict."

"Your mother's right. You don't want your child to be a bastard, do you?"

"I agree to the divorce. Sign."