Chapter 2

Sienna snatched the signed papers away instantly.

As if terrified I would change my mind, she turned to Austin and said, "Mr. Vance, it’s signed."

Austin stared at me, his brows knitted tightly.

He probably expected me to tear up the papers like I did the first two times.

He expected me to drop to my knees, slap myself, and beg him through tears:

"Please, think of our son! Just trust me this one last time!"

I capped the pen and placed it back on the nightstand.

"I’ll pack my things and move out as soon as possible. As for my visitation rights—"

"You don't deserve to be a mother," he interrupted coldly. "You are never seeing Leo again."

I didn’t look up. I just let out a soft laugh. "I was actually about to say... I don't want visitation rights either."

The coldness in Austin’s eyes didn’t waver, but he shot me a sharp, questioning look.

He couldn't comprehend my sudden "indifference."

For the past four years, he and our son were my entire world.

Back then, if Leo so much as called Sienna "Auntie Sienna" one extra time, my heart would ache for days.

Now, I was giving him up without a fight. It wasn't like me.

He let out a harsh sneer, seemingly finding a logical explanation for my behavior.

"Throwing away your own flesh and blood for some cheap flings. Was this your plan all along when you climbed into my bed and forced me to marry you?"

Listening to his venomous words, I felt absolutely no desire to defend myself.

The first time he caught me "sleeping around" in a hotel, I was completely blindsided.

I had begged and screamed, swearing I had never betrayed him.

But Austin had always assumed I was obsessed with him. And since the man in my bed had fled, leaving only a blurry silhouette on the hotel's security footage, Austin barely let it slide.

Yet, he still took Leo away from me.

To see my son once a month, I had to schedule an appointment with Sienna a week in advance.

During our short visits, Sienna would tail us like a warden.

If I held Leo for a second too long, I had to watch her displeased face.

Even buying toys or clothes for my own son required Sienna's prior approval, or they would never make it to Leo's room.

The emotional abuse broke me, and soon after, I was framed for a second time.

I had taken a job to distract myself, but during a business trip, I woke up in a hotel room with a repulsive, overweight stranger drooling next to me.

I called the police, but the medical exam showed I hadn't been assaulted.

Despite the lack of physical evidence, Austin decided I was just caught before the "crime" could happen.

From that day on, I wasn't even allowed to attend Leo's kindergarten parent-teacher meetings.

Whenever the school called, Austin sent Sienna instead.

He told me to stay home so I "wouldn't embarrass the family."

Even when our four-year-old son pointed at my face and called me a "bad woman," Austin just stood there, saying nothing.

And now, the third time...

I was tired of this twisted game. I was ready to let them have each other.

And yet, he had the nerve to ask why I didn't want my own child anymore?

Sienna walked up to Austin and whispered loudly enough for me to hear:

"Austin, even though the prenup says she waives custody... in all my years of legal practice, I’ve never seen a mother give up her child so easily."

"Elena has cheated so many times; she probably planned this long ago. After all, a child is just baggage for a woman who wants to play around... Don't waste your breath on her."

She looked up at me, a brief, heavy glint of triumph flashing in her eyes.

I chuckled softly.

She seemed to have forgotten...

Four years ago, she was the one who drafted this absurd prenuptial agreement, specifically detailing the "three-strike" cheating clause.

Austin’s face darkened.

"You better mean what you say. Don't come crawling back on your knees begging me later."

Leaving those cold words, he turned and walked out.

I watched his retreating back, the corner of my mouth curling into a bitter smile.

I won't, Austin.

My knees will never bend for you again.