Chapter 1

Every time we had sex, my husband had to ask his female confidante for permission first.

If Clara was in a bad mood and crossed it out, Vincent would carry his blanket to the study.

"Clara got chewed out earlier. She's just in a mood. Don't worry, she'll agree tomorrow.

"She's innocent. She doesn't think that deeply.

"Don't overthink it."

But after that, whether he came home after ten at night, whether he took me on trips with mutual friends, whether we had children, Clara got the final say.

People in our circle laughed.

"Don Vincent really pulled off a miracle.

He married one woman and somehow ended up with two wives."

Vincent only smiled and placed a peeled shrimp into Clara's bowl.

"Clara and I are just friends.

"We were already like this before I met Isabella.

"I'm careless, she's careful. We complement each other, that's all."

But when I was six months pregnant, I accidentally fell and called Vincent.

He immediately stopped a family meeting and rushed home at once.

Just as he was about to pick me up, Clara called in a fury.

"You haven't asked me for permission yet."

"Isabella fell."

"I don't agree."

Vincent put down the phone. He shoved a hundred dollars into my hand.

"Calling 911 works just as well.

"Be good. Once things settle down, text me that you're safe."

I lay on the floor and reached for him through my tears. But all he left me was his back.

Not long after, Clara updated her close-friends feed. On her desk sat a little apology cake.

[Since someone has been fairly sincere in admitting his mistake, next request may be pre-approved.]

Everyone congratulated me. They said Clara had agreed.

Next time, surely there would be no problem. But I only touched my already-flat stomach and sent the divorce agreement to Vincent.

"Then go ahead and approve this divorce agreement."

The family group chat exploded.

[Isabella, stop throwing a tantrum. Take it back.]

[It wasn't easy getting Clara to grant an exception. What if Clara really agrees because you sent this?]

[Exactly. Hurry up and think about what gift Don Vincent should give you. Clara already said that whatever you ask for, she'll approve it beforehand.]

Approve... I stared at the words on the screen with a bitter smile. Tears blurred my vision without warning.

Even a gift from my own husband needed another woman's permission. What was there left in this marriage worth continuing? I sent one more message.

[No need. This is the only request.]

Vincent called me. It was noisy on his end, as if he had just finished another family meeting.

"Isabella, don't be willful. I worked hard to get her to agree to this.

"To calm Clara down, I personally went to South Brooklyn and waited in line for that apology cake.

"This chance is rare. Stop making a fuss for now. Do you want to travel? Look at the map. Wherever you choose, I'll take you."

I curled my lips in mockery. "What is Clara angry about?"

Vincent froze for a moment. "Because you came back to save me without asking her first?"

Vincent laughed. "Clara has a child's temper. She's always been like this."

"Twenty-six still counts as a child?"

He stopped. "Vincent, why is your pregnant wife falling and bleeding less important than a single sentence from an unrelated woman?

"You even prepared an apology gift for her because of that sentence."

"Isabella, this is how we've always gotten along."

"Even if I miscarried, it wouldn't matter?"

The other end went silent for two seconds. Vincent's voice turned disbelieving.

"What happened to our baby?"

"Gone."

My voice was hoarse. "That's impossible!"

I heard Clara's voice from his side. I frowned.

"Vincent, is she in your office?"

"She just came over for coffee..."

"Isabella, don't lie. I did tell Vince to go back to family headquarters, but only because he broke our rules. I was teaching him a lesson."

Clara's tone carried blame. "But that doesn't mean I really left you alone.

"I called 911 for you. The doctor said the baby was fine!"

"You're lying!"

I was furious. "I never saw any ambulance you supposedly called!"

"Isabella, lower your voice."

Vincent sounded reproachful. "Clara is blunt, not the kind of person who lies. I know you're angry, but didn't Clara agree that from now on, whatever we do, she'll agree?"

"Vince, come here. The espresso machine jammed."

"Coming."

Vincent went on. "Isabella, don't joke about the baby. That isn't something a mother should do."

Then he hung up.