Chapter 3

As for Julian, from the moment he walked in, he didn't look at me once.

He agreed with everything his mother said, playing the perfect host, pouring water and peeling fruit for Serena.

They left me standing there like a clown.

Until finally, the tears in my eyes could no longer be held back.

I swallowed my humiliation and hid in the kitchen.

Listening to their laughter from the living room, I wiped my tears and started packing up the leftovers.

That night in our bedroom, I asked Julian why he hadn't introduced me as his wife.

"You worked so hard in the kitchen all day, you deserved a break. Let Mom and me handle hosting the guests."

Julian’s answer was warm and gentle.

He didn't mind my greasy hair. He ran his fingers through it and smiled softly.

In that single moment, all my resentment vanished.

As long as Julian loved me, it didn't matter how much Eleanor hated me.

After all, I was Julian's legal wife.

But Eleanor's attitude still stung.

Later that night, I finished the vile holistic fertility shake Eleanor had prepared for me. The bitter aftertaste clung to my throat.

It was a special recipe Eleanor had gotten from some sketchy holistic guru. She claimed it guaranteed a baby boy.

She blamed me for not getting pregnant sooner.

But we had only been married for a year, and Julian had been away on set for eight months of it.

I couldn't explain my innocence, so I just drank the bitter shakes every day.

The drink was incredibly vile. I didn't know what was in it, but the first time I drank it, I threw up my stomach lining.

But to please Eleanor, and to have a baby soon, I forced it down every single day despite the nausea.

I just could never get used to that lingering bitterness.

So that night, I went to the kitchen to grab one of the grapes left over from Serena's visit to wash out the taste.

Just to get a little sweetness back in my mouth.

As I passed Eleanor's bedroom, I heard her complaining to Julian.

She said my family had no money, that I was plain-looking, and had zero class.

She said only a true high-society heiress like Serena was worthy of him.

She said if I didn't get pregnant soon, Julian should just divorce me so I wouldn't waste his prime years.

I couldn't hear Julian's response.

But when he returned to our room that night, he acted completely normal.

He even held me tight, saying we should try harder to have a baby.

I didn't make a scene. I didn't confront him.

Because I believed Julian understood my struggles.

Back when he asked me to give up my screenwriting career to become a housewife, he had promised me:

No matter what I looked like, he would love me, just as I loved him.

But now, recalling Julian's disgusted, biased accusations in the hospital...

And thinking of the breathless moans and wet kisses on the phone right before my surgery...

I could no longer lie to myself.

No man who loves his wife would be in another woman's bed while she was giving birth.

And he certainly wouldn't let his mother steal my baby.

...

When I reached the front door of our house, the warm sound of baby talk and laughter drifted through the cracks.

I didn't open the door. I just stood there, listening quietly.

"Say mommy, sweetie~ Look, this is your mommy now, okay?"

Hearing Eleanor's voice made my blood run cold.

I wanted to burst in and rip my son out of her arms. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep myself from screaming.

I quietly pulled out my phone, turned on the voice recorder, and held the mic close to the door.

"Serena, dear, now that we have the baby, Julian can divorce Chloe very soon."

"If Julian hadn't been worried about your body, not wanting you to go through the pain of pregnancy, he would never have touched a stupid woman like Chloe."

"She actually believed Julian loved her. She even went through all the pain of egg retrieval and IVF just to give Julian a child."

Eleanor didn't even try to hide her malice. She was using my open wounds to please Serena.

Serena seemed highly satisfied with both Julian's and Eleanor’s attitude.

She kept teasing my baby, whispering, "Call me mommy."

Every single "mommy" felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

I could accept my mother-in-law hating me. I could accept Julian's betrayal and divorce.

But my baby—the one I had risked my life to carry—I would never, ever let them have him.

I remembered the excruciating pain of the egg retrieval process, and the sheer joy when the embryo transfer succeeded.

And now, the throbbing pain of my C-section scar flared up.

I closed my eyes and forced back my tears.

When I opened them again, they were cold, burning with a desire for vengeance.

I stopped the recording and saved the audio. I backed it up to the cloud.

I would make them realize that a "stupid woman" like me was more than capable of dragging them straight to hell.