Betrayed and Bleeding, From Devoted Wife to Determined Escapee

I was driving when a tragic accident took my unborn child. Preston happened to pass by with his female colleague in the car. He noticed my blood-stained white dress, blocked his assistant's view, and coldly remarked, "Tough luck. Don't look." Then he drove away quickly.

That evening, while in our bedroom, I discovered an unfamiliar lace bra tucked away in our wardrobe—certainly not mine. I shut the closet and calmly phoned someone. "Mr. Miller, I've decided. I can relocate and start at your firm next week."