Chapter 2

The words had barely left my mouth when Vivian burst out laughing.

"Claire, you really are adorable. After all this time, you still haven't figured it out?"

She walked up to me, pulled an official marriage certificate from her bag, and waved it like a trophy.

"That marriage document you and Adrian filed? It was fake."

My mind went blank.

Vivian's grin widened.

"Adrian married me—legally registered and everything—a long time ago, so he could make my wish come true."

"Yours was just a counterfeit document he had someone throw together."

The real marriage certificate gleamed under the light, stinging my eyes.

I looked at Adrian in disbelief.

He wouldn't meet my gaze. He didn't deny it.

The day we'd gotten our certificate, Adrian had taken me to the cemetery to visit my father.

He stood before my father's headstone and swore he would take care of me for the rest of his life.

His eyes were red as he held me tight.

"Claire, you're finally my wife."

It had all been a lie.

I stumbled back two steps, barely able to keep my balance.

Adrian immediately stepped forward to steady me.

"Claire, the document was fake—I know. But I had no choice. Vivian's condition was getting worse, and her greatest wish was to marry me."

He tried to touch my face. I turned away.

His hand hung frozen in midair. In the end, he could only sigh.

"Claire, just wait a little longer. I promise I'll register our marriage properly and give you the grandest wedding."

"Right now, the most important thing is to make Vivian happy."

That line again.

Every single time, he used the same excuse to force me to swallow every last grievance.

At my birthday party, Vivian said the celebration wasn't lively enough—she wanted a bonfire.

She had people carry out every painting my father had left me before he died, hauled them all into the yard, and set them on fire.

I wept until I nearly passed out, throwing myself toward the flames to save them.

Adrian grabbed me from behind and held me back. His voice was tender—but not for me.

"Claire, they're just paintings. Vivian doesn't have much time. Her happiness is what matters most."

That day, my mother suffered a stroke from the shock and was rushed to the hospital on the spot.

She was still lying in the intensive care unit, unconscious.

"There's no need," I said, pushing Adrian's hands away.

The marriage itself had been a fraud. What was there to divorce?

A clean break would do just fine.

Adrian thought I'd given in.

He exhaled with relief and guided me back to the guest bedroom.

"Get some rest. You have a prenatal checkup tomorrow. Don't be difficult."

I lowered my head and rested a hand on my belly.

The baby kicked—just once, very gently.

Like a goodbye.

The next morning, before dawn had fully broken, Adrian knocked on the guest bedroom door.

"Claire, I can't go with you to the checkup today. Vivian wants to spend the day at an amusement park."

I didn't answer.

There was a time when I'd begged him, over and over, eyes bright with hope, to take me to an amusement park.

He always frowned and said he was too busy with work, that those things were childish nonsense.

Refusal after refusal, disappointment after disappointment.

Now, for a single word from Vivian, he'd cleared his entire schedule—even handed the family's regular meetings off to someone else.

After they left, I put on a wig, called a car, and went to the downtown hospital alone.

At the OB-GYN reception desk, the nurse didn't look up.

"Here for a prenatal checkup?"

I shook my head.

"No."

"I'd like to schedule a termination."