Chapter 2

After that night, I pretended nothing was wrong.

Ethan continued his routine of leaving early and returning late. But curiosity got the better of me, and I ended up searching his study.

Hidden in a drawer, I found a stack of handwritten sheet music.

The handwriting was wild and passionate, a stark contrast to the neat, precise signature he used on multi-million dollar corporate contracts.

I never asked him about it.

Until one late night, his phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.

I’m a light sleeper, and the vibration woke me instantly.

The screen lit up with the name: *Cleo*.

Ethan got out of bed and walked out to the balcony to answer it. He kept his voice incredibly low, but the quiet night carried his words straight to my ears.

"Don't panic. I'm coming over right now."

He came back inside and put on his clothes, his movements extremely quiet.

I closed my eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

It wasn't until I heard the soft click of the front door closing that I opened my eyes, staring at the empty, cold space beside me.

The next morning, Marcus came by the house to drop off some corporate documents. He casually let slip, "Mr. Vance went straight to Cleo's studio this morning. Apparently, there was an issue with her new single's arrangement."

I just nodded, keeping my face blank.

Realizing he had said too much, Marcus quickly excused himself and left.

I opened my iPad and searched Cleo's name on Instagram.

The very first post was an update she had shared at 3:00 AM:

"Shoutout to my favorite guy, Ethan, for staying up until 3 AM to help me rewrite my bridge! My eighth-anniversary single is coming out soon! stay tuned~"

The attached photo was a night view from her studio. Blurry in the reflection of the glass window was the silhouette of a man.

I recognized the designer shirt he was wearing. I had bought it for him as a birthday gift last month.

The comment section was buzzing.

"Is that Ethan, the OG keyboardist from your high school band?! Are you guys finally collaborating again?!"

"Oh my god, my high school ship is sailing again! Is the band back?!"

"You two were literally soulmates back then. Such a tragedy you broke up..."

I scrolled through the endless comments, slowly piecing together the puzzle of their past.

They had started a band in high school. Later, because of Ethan’s strict family, they were forced to break up, and Cleo went abroad to pursue her music career.

On the surface, they had been separated for years.

But it turned out Ethan wasn't born cold and emotionless.

He had once passionately fought his entire family for someone.

He had learned entirely new instruments just to be close to her.

And whenever she needed him, he would drop everything and run to her side without a single second of hesitation.

I sat down at my grand piano, my fingers pressing a few random, meaningless chords.

Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. Five years ago, Ethan and I only started talking because he overheard me secretly playing the bass in a music room.

It turned out everything had a reason.

Then what did our five years together even mean?

A sudden wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom, clutching the sink, but nothing came up.

That night, Ethan didn't come home. He only sent a brief text saying he was tied up at a business dinner.

Meanwhile, I was standing in the cold corridor of the hospital, holding a medical report, completely lost.

I was pregnant.

What a beautiful piece of news it should have been. It should have been a celebration.

But this baby had chosen the worst possible time to arrive.

Or rather, my marriage was already running out of time.

I didn't tell Ethan right away.

He was still extremely busy—busy with the Vance Group, and busy with Cleo's upcoming album.

Occasionally, I would see his interviews on business channels. He looked sharp, calm, and flawless—the perfect CEO in the eyes of the public.

But I knew he had another side.

A side that belonged entirely to Cleo.

Over the weekend, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Vance, paid an unexpected visit.

She took my hand, her tone heavy with expectation. "Chloe, it’s about time you and Ethan had a baby."

"Once you have a child, his heart will finally settle. He’ll finally let go of those trashy, rebellious memories from his past."

Her words carried a double meaning. Clearly, she had heard some rumors too.

I forced a tight smile and didn't answer.

She had no idea that the "trashy past" she despised so much held the most sacred place in her son's heart.

After she left, my phone rang. It was Ethan.

"I have a dinner meeting tonight. Don't wait up for me."

"Okay."

I hung up and opened Instagram.

Cleo's fan account had just posted some paparazzi pictures.

At a high-end French restaurant, Cleo was laughing and chatting with several music producers. Ethan sat right beside her, leaning in close, listening to her with absolute focus.

That wasn't a corporate dinner meeting.

That was her celebration party.

And today was our wedding anniversary. He hadn't sent me a single text about it.

I placed my hand over my still-flat stomach, my heart turning completely ice-cold.

My morning sickness got worse by the day.

I found myself dry-heaving every morning, losing my appetite entirely. I was losing weight rapidly.

Ethan finally noticed my pale face one morning.

"Are you feeling sick? Do you need me to take you to the clinic?"

His voice carried concern, but it sounded like a routine check-in.

"I'm fine. Probably just a stomach bug," I said, avoiding his eyes.

He nodded and didn't press further.

The next day, he went on a business trip.

But I knew better. He was traveling to the next city on Cleo's tour.

I went to my prenatal check-up all by myself.

The OB-GYN looked at the ultrasound and smiled warmheartedly. "The baby is healthy, seven weeks along. But your body is a bit weak, Chloe. You need to get plenty of rest and nutrition."

Listening to the doctor, a bitter ache swelled in my chest.

This baby's father was currently standing near another woman's stage.

I looked at the other pregnant women in the hallway. Almost all of them had their partners holding their hands, whispering sweet words.

But I was entirely alone.