Chapter 2

As she spoke, Chloe pulled Sarah to sit beside me.

She continued, "My freshman year of college, both my parents died in an accident."

"I nearly had to drop out. But it turned out my fiancé's alma mater was the same university I attended."

"He endowed a million-dollar scholarship to the school every year. I was one of the students who received his funding."

"That winter was brutally cold. To thank him, I hand-knitted him a sweater."

"And that sweater... that's what started our love story."

I remembered Christian did have a hand-knitted sweater.

He treasured it like gold.

But he told me it was a keepsake from his late mother.

Once, our son accidentally dropped the sweater on the floor.

Christian flew into a rage and beat him black and blue.

So that sweater was hand-knitted by Chloe Evans.

What broke my heart even more—he'd been donating a million dollars to that university every year, and I had no idea.

Two years ago, he told me the company was facing a cash flow crisis.

We mortgaged our house, his father's house, even my parents' house.

That's how we supposedly saved the company from collapse.

Even now, he claimed the business was barely breaking even—limping along, half-dead.

Yet this shrewd, calculating man had been throwing away fortunes on charity—all to win the heart of a young girl.

Sarah's envy was written all over her face.

She pressed on, "I heard your husband's loaded, and he gives you all his money too. So why are you still working at our company, grinding away like the rest of us?"

I perked up, hanging on Chloe's every word.

Smile never left her face.

"Even though he gives me everything—more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes—I still want to have a career I love. I don't want to just be some trophy wife he keeps at home."

"I need to feel like I have value, you know?"

More money than she could spend in a dozen lifetimes?

My chest felt like it was caving in.

Just last month, our son couldn't afford the $50,000 tuition for his elite private school.

He had to transfer to a public school.

The humiliation triggered anxiety and depression in my ten-year-old boy.

I kept my voice steady as I asked, "What kind of business is your husband in? How does he make so much money?"

"His main company is overseas. The domestic branch doesn't make much profit."

My mind reeled.

I had no idea Christian had a company overseas.

For the past four years, he'd been telling me the business wasn't doing well.

He stopped contributing to household expenses entirely.

My annual salary after taxes was $80,000—just enough to cover our family's needs.

So I never pressured him.

Even when his mother passed away a few years back and her medical bills ran close to $200,000 over the course of a year.

I paid for everything. I borrowed $100,000 of it.

To pay back that debt as quickly as possible, I had to keep up appearances that we weren't struggling—while secretly cutting every corner I could.

Christian witnessed so many sleepless nights I spent drowning in worry.

He watched my hair turn gray at barely thirty.

But he never once offered to help. Not a single dollar.

Sarah kept prying, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I heard your fiancé is divorced. This is his second marriage, right? Can he handle things well with his ex-wife?"

A bitter laugh rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

Chloe looked completely unbothered, her face still glowing with happiness.

"His ex-wife and son are both dead."

My heart stopped. A gaping wound tore open in my chest, choking me.

I couldn't believe it. Christian had told her our son and I were dead.