Chapter 1

Everyone in high society knew I was the most sought-after OB-GYN in the city for abortions.

Because I had personally performed the procedure on every single one of Tristan Hayes's mistresses.

Quick, painless, minimal bleeding, and leaving them perfectly capable of getting pregnant again.

Every wealthy socialite who came to my clinic to clean up their husband's mess would give me the same advice:

"Evelyn, darling, you really need to have a baby of your own to tie Tristan down."

Their voices dripped with pity, thinly veiling their schadenfreude.

After all, years ago, Tristan had thrown a lavish, multimillion-dollar wedding to make me his wife.

Every woman in our circle had turned green with envy, claiming I had won the ultimate lottery.

Now, Tristan brought women into our bed one after another, and sent them to my operating table in droves.

I had cried. I had screamed. But Tristan only ever gave me one cold reassurance:

"Don't worry. I will never let any of them carry my baby."

It was like punching a wall of cotton. Behind my back, everyone mocked me as the city’s most pathetic, spineless wife.

After signing the post-op chart for Tristan’s ninety-ninth mistress, I tapped send on a draft message to my lawyer:

"Please finalize my divorce papers as soon as possible."

When I got home, Tristan was leaning back on the couch, a cigarette held between his fingers. He squinted at me through the smoke.

"Tough day, honey? Chloe told me your hands were as gentle as ever."

His younger sister, Serena, hummed a tune as she brushed bright crimson polish onto her nails, not even looking up.

"Honestly, Tristan, you should’ve just let Chloe keep the baby. It’s not like someone else in this house is ever going to give you one."

Tristan flicked his ash and flashed an amused smile. "Watch your mouth, kiddo."

I hung my coat on the rack, walked over to them with uncharacteristic calm, and said evenly:

"Tristan, I want a divorce. My lawyer is already drafting the settlement."

"Pfft."

Serena burst out laughing, and Tristan chuckled, leaning sideways on the sofa.

"What, mad at me again, baby?"

"I didn't let her keep the kid. You have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not mad. And I'm not joking."

I sat down beside Serena, took the polish bottle from her hands, and couldn't help lecturing:

"You're still in school. Don't wear something this flashy."

Serena's expression darkened instantly. She snatched the bottle back with a scowl, glaring at me.

"Get off my back."

"Worry about yourself, okay? My brother doesn't have an heir because of a barren woman like you."

"If you want to lecture a kid, go birth one yourself. You can't even do that, so shut up."

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest.

In the nine years since I married into the Hayes family, their mother spent all her time at charity galas and high-stakes poker tables, leaving Serena entirely to the nannies.

I was the only one who truly cared for Serena like my own. Yet she had never once called me her family, weaponizing my infertility to humiliate me every chance she got.

Nine years. In this massive, gilded mansion, I had never been anything more than an outsider.

"I mean it," I said firmly.

"Smash!" Tristan slammed his glass onto the floor, sending shards flying everywhere.

That glass was part of a pair.

We had made them together in a pottery class when we were madly in love. They were engraved with a promise: "Soulmates for Life."

His eyes were bloodshot as he pointed up the stairs at Serena.

"Who gave you permission to run your mouth? Get the hell up to your room!"

Serena scurried upstairs in a huff.

Tristan crushed the cigarette in his palm, ash scattering all over the floor.

He took slow, menacing steps toward me, his face turning dead cold.

"Evelyn, what the hell is your problem?"

"I told you, I will never keep their kids! My firstborn will only ever come from you!"

"None of them threaten your status as my wife. What more do you want?!"

He gripped my jaw, forcing my head up so our eyes locked.

Trapped in his grip, I grabbed the box of tissues off the coffee table and hurled it straight into his face.

"Tristan Hayes! Out of everyone in the world, you had to sleep with Chloe Frost?!"

Chloe was my stepsister.

She was the one who had drugged my father’s drink and tried to frame me, nearly ruining my entire life.

There wasn't an ounce of sisterhood between us—only pure, unadulterated hatred.

My fists rained down on Tristan's chest. Enraged, he shoved me back hard.

"So what if it’s Chloe?!"

"You can't get pregnant. At least she can!"

I hit the floor hard, my knees landing straight on the jagged glass shards. Warm blood trickled down my shins.

Tristan froze for a second, his hand reaching out instinctively to help me.

A beat later, he pulled his hand back, his voice turning icy.

"Stop making a scene. I'm moving Chloe in tomorrow. You’re going to take good care of her."

"Keep acting up, and I will cut off your mother’s hospital bills."