Chapter 1

On our fifteenth wedding anniversary, Ethan’s mistress showed up at my doorstep.

She played a video of their intimacy right in front of my face.

It was filmed in our own bedroom.

Ethan was holding Amber, whispering over and over again how much he loved her.

Amber caressed her flat stomach. "I’m pregnant. It's his."

I froze. "And?"

She smirked with pure provocation. "Ethan said he wants me to keep the baby."

I didn’t break down the way she wanted me to.

I even smiled and told her, "Okay."

I just thought to myself—love really does have an expiration date.

Fifteen years ago, I saved his life and lost the ability to ever become a mother.

Back then, Ethan knelt by my hospital bed, crying, promising he never wanted kids.

He said I was the only one he needed for the rest of his life.

But promises expire.

Since he forgot his, I would be the one to fulfill it.

Starting today, I will arrange a grand exit.

I will make sure Ethan never finds me again for the rest of his miserable life.

Olivia's POV

When Amber slid her phone across the table, the muffled, heavy breathing of a man started playing from the screen.

Soft piano music filled the cozy coffee shop, while outside, the rain beat down on the busiest street of downtown Seattle.

Everyone knew today was Ethan and my fifteenth wedding anniversary.

The whole city was waiting to see what grand romantic gesture Ethan had prepared for me tonight.

But as I looked down, I was greeted by a very different kind of "surprise."

In the video, Ethan’s shirt was torn open. Amber’s soft arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her face tilted up, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"Ethan, I'm pregnant."

The camera shook slightly.

Ethan didn't push her away.

My fingers clenched. The coffee in my cup trembled, and a drop of the dark liquid splashed onto my snowy white cuff, leaving an ugly, stubborn stain.

Amber sat across from me. She slowly took her phone back, her smile innocent yet triumphant.

"Olivia, did you see that clearly?"

I looked up at her.

In her eyes, I saw my reflection. I looked beautiful—the kind of beauty that remained unbroken even after years of quiet suffering.

I didn't show her the panic or despair she was desperate to see.

"Faking a video isn't hard," I said softly. "Do you really think I’m that gullible, Amber?"

Amber giggled, then tapped her screen to open another video.

This time, there was no hiding behind clever angles.

It was security footage from a hotel hallway. Ethan was carrying a disheveled Amber into a room.

He didn't walk out until three in the morning.

As he stepped into the hallway, he pulled out his phone and made a call. His voice had been so gentle, almost cautious.

"Olivia, something came up at the office. I won't be home tonight. Go to sleep early, okay?"

I remembered that call.

That night, my chronic stomach ulcer had flared up. I was sweating cold from the pain, but I still forced a smile over the phone and told him, "Okay, babe. Don't work too hard."

It turned out he wasn't working.

He was in another woman's bed.

Amber watched the color drain from my face, her hand gently resting on her belly.

"I’m six weeks pregnant. Ethan said we are keeping this baby."

My breath hitched.

A baby.

Those words felt like a dull, rusty knife stabbing into the deepest, most sensitive part of my soul.

Fifteen years ago, Ethan and I got married.

Back then, he was the black sheep of the wealthy family, surrounded by ruthless business enemies.

Three months into our marriage, Ethan was kidnapped. His captors didn't want money—they wanted his life.

I went to the drop-off location alone, trading myself to get him out of that abandoned warehouse.

They kept me locked up for three days.

When I finally woke up in the ICU, the sharp smell of bleach made me gag. The doctor stood by my bed, his voice full of pity.

"Olivia, the internal damage was too severe. I'm afraid you can never have children."

That day, Ethan knelt by my bed, his eyes bloodshot.

He squeezed my hand and sobbed, "Olivia, I don't care about kids. I only want you. Just you."

For the next fifteen years, whenever his snobbish mother, Madeline, brought up the family line, Ethan would block her cold.

He used to tell everyone, "If anyone pressures Olivia about kids again, you're dead to me."

I believed him.

I thought the whole world might judge me for being barren, but never Ethan.

Yet here was Amber, rubbing her stomach, telling me Ethan wanted this child.

How pathetic.

I sacrificed my womanhood to save his life, and he went and got another woman pregnant.

Seeing my silence, Amber assumed she had finally broken me. Her smirk widened.

"Olivia, you have to understand Ethan. The family empire needs an heir. Since you can't produce one, you can't expect him to stay childless forever, right?"

I slowly raised my eyes.

Amber leaned in close, whispering, "So what if he loves you? A man's love is nothing compared to his legacy. Besides, when he was holding me last night, he certainly didn't look like he was being forced."

Slap!

The sharp sound cut through the quiet coffee shop. Even the piano music seemed to skip a beat.

Amber’s head snapped to the side. She clutched her burning cheek, staring at me in utter shock. "You... you slapped me?"

I stood up, looking down at her cold-eyed.

"That was for ruining my morning."

Amber’s eyes flared with pure venom. "Who do you think you are, Olivia? Ethan is keeping my baby! You've clung to the title of his wife for fifteen years, but in the end, you still couldn't give him what he wanted most!"

My chest throbbed with a suffocating pain, but I didn't let myself take a single step back.