Chapter 2

When I woke up, I was in a hospital room. Only a nurse was by my side.

"You have signs of a threatened miscarriage. You need to keep your emotions stable. The doctor has prescribed some medication to protect the fetus. Once your family gets here, have them pick it up."

Family? I didn't have any family left.

My mother died years ago, my father fled his debts, and the mafia husband who once promised to love me forever was currently accompanying his mistress for her prenatal checkup.

I slowly slid out of bed, planning to get the medicine myself.

As I walked past the VIP ward on the third floor, a familiar male voice drifted out from a door left slightly ajar.

I froze in my tracks.

Peering through the gap, I saw Ethan sitting by the bed, gently feeding Chloe a bowl of warm soup.

Chloe touched her stomach, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Ethan, are you really not going to come see me during this time? What if the baby misses his daddy?"

Ethan pinched her nose affectionately. "Silly girl. How could I ever leave you all alone?"

"I installed a GPS tracker on Elena's phone. Once she stops acting crazy, I'll come right back to accompany you."

Chloe giggled and threw herself into his arms.

Listening to the intimate sounds coming from the room, my chest felt completely hollowed out.

The cold hospital draft blew past, freezing me to the bone.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a hidden contact.

"I accept your offer to go to Chicago. But on one condition—you have to help me fake my death."

"Deal," the voice on the other end replied.

Hanging up, I took one last look at the two figures hugging inside the room.

Ethan, since you refused to believe that I would actually divorce you...

Then congratulations, you are about to become a widower.

That evening, Ethan came home.

Seeing that my dinner was just a bland bowl of oatmeal, he frowned and immediately dumped it into the trash can.

"You're pregnant, and this is what you're eating?"

He took off his suit jacket and walked straight into the kitchen.

Soon, the sound of sizzling oil and the rich aroma of food filled the apartment.

The warm, golden light cast a soft glow over his back as he cooked.

If I hadn't overheard his conversation outside the VIP ward, I would have honestly believed he was turning over a new leaf and returning to his family.

While I was lost in thought, four dishes and a soup were already set on the table.

He placed a large piece of steamed fish into my bowl. "Eat more fish. It'll keep your legs from cramping at night."

I gripped my fork so tightly my knuckles turned white. "Ethan, I'm allergic to fish."

The one who loved fish was Chloe.

The dining room fell into a suffocating silence.

Ethan's hand froze in mid-air, his expression stiffening.

He slowly put down his fork, picked up the entire plate of fish, and dumped it into the trash.

Then, he walked over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of mango juice, opened it, and began to chug it down.

My eyes widened in horror. I rushed forward to grab the bottle. "Are you insane?! You're severely allergic to mangoes!"

He swerved to avoid my hand, draining the entire bottle.

Within seconds, angry red hives began to break out all over his neck. It was a terrifying sight.

He loosened his tie, his breathing turning shallow and labored.

"Forgetting your allergy was my fault. It has nothing to do with Chloe."

"Now that I've punished myself, promise me you won't go looking for trouble with her."

Tears spilled over my eyes without warning.

"Ethan," my voice shook violently.

"Are you seriously willing to risk your own life just to protect Chloe?"

"Yes."

He answered without a single second of hesitation, his eyes almost pleading.

"Elena, I'm begging you... just let Chloe go."

The nickname "Luna" hit me like a physical blow, pinning me to the spot.

Years ago, when Chloe's mother had pushed me to the absolute edge, I had stood at the very edge of the rooftop, wanting to jump and join my mother.

Ethan hadn't tried to pull me back with words. Instead, he had climbed up and stood right beside me on the ledge.

He had said, "Elena, you are the moon in my dark sky. If you go, I won't live either."

The nickname "Luna" carried too much weight. It had defined the eleven years of love and hate between us.

The butterflies of our first kiss, the pain of meeting in a shady back-alley clinic, the intimacy of our wedding night...

But now, he was using that very name to beg me to spare another woman.

My lips curled into a bitter smile. The silence in my heart came even before the tears.

"Fine. I will let you both go."

I stepped back, turned around, and walked into the bedroom.