Chapter 1

On the day Ethan Pierce won the company’s annual Elite Performance Award, the host asked him who he wanted to thank the most.

My feet were already on the steps, ready to walk up to the stage with him. But his eyes bypassed me completely.

He looked right past me, focusing on his assistant, Chloe Miller, who was standing under the bright spotlight.

He touched the hidden pendant around his neck, smiled, and said into the microphone:

"Without Chloe—without her staying by my side through the hardest ten years of my life—I would never have made it to this executive suite!"

Under the giant screen, they held each other tight, tears streaming down their faces. They looked exactly like a couple deeply in love.

I stood in the dark, gently rubbing my slightly swollen lower belly. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed the clinic.

"Yes. I’m calling to confirm the abortion."

"Vivian, are you sure? I remember how hard you and Ethan tried to conceive this baby. Are you really doing this?"

I looked at the two stars of the night on the stage.

The flashing lights and roaring applause drowned me out. It was as if I wasn't the one who had spent a whole decade dragging Ethan out of the mud.

It was as if Chloe was the one who had been there all along.

Swallowing the bitter pain in my chest, I spoke into the phone, my voice trembling but firm:

"Yes. I am sure. Book the procedure."

The doctor fell silent. He knew better than anyone how much time and money I had spent just to get pregnant.

Countless prenatal checkups, endless ultrasounds.

I used to ask the doctor a million anxious questions every week, pouring my entire soul into this pregnancy.

After all, we had been trying to conceive.

For three long years.

Who would have thought that the words "abort the baby" would ever come out of my mouth?

"Vivian, I respect your decision," the doctor sighed. "But your body is naturally fragile. If you go through with this, you might never be able to get pregnant again. Plus—"

I cut him off.

"I’ve made up my mind, Dr. Reynolds."

On stage, a romantic French love song began to play, pushing the atmosphere to a climax.

Ethan dropped to one knee. Just like the dozens of times he had passionately proposed to me in private, he looked up at Chloe and said:

"Will you walk with me down the path of my future career, side by side, as my partner in everything?"

The crowd went wild.

Chloe covered her mouth, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes as she stood there, looking like the happiest woman in the world.

It was a perfect fairytale scene.

I looked down at the ring finger on my left hand, where half of the bone was slightly crooked. A cold laugh escaped my lips.

I had actually believed Ethan when he promised he would publicly announce our ten-year secret marriage at this gala.

It was all a lie.

This public proposal was premeditated. The only problem was, the bride-to-be.

Wasn't me.

So, what did my ten years of sacrifice mean?

To pay for his Ivy League tuition and his startup dreams, I had played the piano at late-night gigs until I almost died of exhaustion. I had literally broken my ring finger on the keys. What did that mean now?

When Ethan found out I had ruined my finger for him, he had knelt outside my door for a whole day and night, begging me to marry him. He had looked just as madly in love with me then as he did with Chloe now.

The moment Chloe whispered her "Yes" to his proposal, I turned and walked away from the noise.

When Ethan clipped my wings years ago, I lost the ability to sit at a grand piano and feel the keys properly.

Because of him, I had abandoned my greatest passion.

I had filed down my sharp edges, hidden my pride as a world-class heiress, and reduced myself to a quiet housewife.

I had traded my dreams for groceries and laundry.

But today, as I mentally pulled the dusty cover off my old piano, I suddenly remembered—

I was once the most dazzling, proudest pianist under the spotlight.

Yet, looking at my calloused hands now, I barely recognized myself.

Ethan didn't get home until very late.

And he brought Chloe with him. Only this time, they were holding hands.

Seeing that I was still awake, Ethan quickly let go of her fingers. He tried to act natural, frowning at me:

"Why aren't you in bed? Did you forget you have to do the weekly grocery run at the farmers' market tomorrow morning?"

For the twelve years I had been with him, I had managed every single detail of this house.

Twelve years. I had never complained.

I didn’t even look at him. I just replied flatly:

"I have a clinic appointment tomorrow. I won't be doing the groceries."

Hearing about the clinic, his eyes lit up, and his tone softened a bit:

"Right, you need to get more checkups. We worked so hard for this baby; we can't let anything go wrong."

Then, his gaze fell on my bare ring finger. His voice dropped. "Where's your wedding ring?"

"Oh," I said casually. "I took it off when I took a shower. It’s on the sink."

Maybe because he felt guilty about what happened at the gala with Chloe, he didn’t push it.

"I'm starving. Go make us two bowls of scallion noodles. Chloe doesn't like eggs or cilantro, so watch the ingredients."

My fingernails dug into my palms. A wave of ice rushed through my veins.

We had been together for twelve years. How did he treat me?

When I had severe cramps during my period, he would order me iced boba tea. I would be curled up on the couch, unable to speak from the pain, and he would yell at me for being ungrateful and dramatic.

I hated vinegar in my noodles, but he would always place a bowl dripping with vinegar in front of me.

I had told him my preferences a thousand times, but Ethan never cared enough to remember.

He just called me high-maintenance.

And here I was, thinking he was just a man who didn’t know how to love.

Turns out, he knew exactly how to care. He just didn't care about me.