Chapter 1

The moment I discovered my pregnancy, I was overcome with joy and anticipation, eagerly planning how to reveal the news to Ray. I envisioned an intimate dinner, with candlelight and the sonogram tucked away for him to find. However, my plans were shattered before I could even begin.

Arriving home unexpectedly, I overheard voices coming from Ray's office. I hesitated by the entrance, my pulse quickening. While it wasn't uncommon for Ray to entertain guests, something in his tone made me linger silently, eavesdropping.

"You've maintained that young woman as your mistress for half a decade. Don't you intend to legitimize her position?" one of his companions jested, his words laced with sarcasm.

Ray let out a chuckle, the sound piercing me like shards of broken glass. "If Susan were to find out, she'd surely leave me. I can't afford that risk."

Their amusement erupted, filling the space like a cruel chorus. One voice stood out, oozing with admiration. "You're quite the cunning one, aren't you? Even your infidelity is meticulously orchestrated."

Each word felt like a stab, each more painful than the last. With trembling hands, I pushed the door open, stepping into their circle of casual camaraderie. Ray glanced up, his smile unwavering, as if nothing had transpired. He slipped a ring onto my finger with practiced ease.

"The wedding is scheduled for next month," he declared, his voice brimming with rehearsed enthusiasm. "I have to work late tonight, so go enjoy trying on wedding gowns. I'll see you later."

His touch lingered just long enough to make me nauseous. I knew the real reason for his absence. It wasn't work—it was Christine Brooks, the artist under his contract. He had reserved a romantic suite for them that night, another in a series of betrayals.

I suppressed the rising bile and forced a smile, playing the role of the unsuspecting fiancée. But inside, my heart was shattering into pieces I feared I could never reassemble.

...

The following day, I scheduled an appointment at Arlington Hospital. My decision was resolute: I couldn't bring a child into this chaos. The thought of raising Ray's baby while knowing the truth of his double life was unbearable.

"Are you certain you want to proceed?" my physician inquired gently, her voice tinged with concern. "At seven weeks, the fetal heartbeat is detectable. You're already at ten weeks."

I clenched my fists and nodded firmly, ignoring the ache in my chest. "Please arrange the procedure as soon as possible."

As I sat in the sterile hospital waiting area, idly browsing my phone, a notification appeared. Christine had updated her Moments. I hesitated, then opened it, steeling myself for the worst.

The video showed a man kneeling before her, presenting a diamond ring that glittered like deceit itself. The caption read: [To my beloved Mr. Palmer, I've always believed that love will find a way.]

My breath hitched. My mind reeled. Ray had commented below the post: [Happy five-year anniversary to us.]

A flood of likes and well-wishes from mutual friends poured in, their congratulations a cruel mockery. They all knew. Everyone except me. I stared at the words until they blurred. Five years. The entire duration of my relationship with him. It wasn't just an affair—it was a parallel life.

Suddenly, everything fell into place. The initials [CB] tattooed near his heart last year that he'd claimed were "just an abstract design." The receipts I'd found in his bag for luxury handbags and jewelry I never saw. The trips to Paris he said were business-related—Christine had accompanied him every time.

Love doesn't vanish—it simply transfers to another.

After the procedure, I remained in the hospital for three days. My body ached, but the true agony was in my soul. The loss wasn't just of the baby—it was of every illusion I had about the life I'd constructed with Ray.

On the third day, he finally appeared, alerted by an acquaintance about my hospitalization. He strode in, his face etched with feigned worry, but he wasn't alone. Christine was with him, her beauty sharp and smug as she lingered a step behind, a shadow cast by malevolence.

"Susan, please don't blow this out of proportion," Christine said, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. "Mr. Palmer has numerous responsibilities, and your hospitalization only adds to his burden. Perhaps you should focus on taking better care of yourself."

Her words stung, but what hurt more was Ray's silence. He didn't defend me. He didn't even look at me. Instead, he merely instructed his assistant to handle my discharge paperwork, his attention already shifting back to Christine.

As the nurse left to retrieve my medication, I felt a chill seep into my bones. Something told me they weren't far. Dragging my weakened body, I followed the sound of their voices to the stairwell.

There they were. Ray had Christine pressed against the wall, their lips locked in a kiss so passionate it left no room for doubt. My chest constricted as I watched him hold her the way he used to hold me. My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a sob.

When their embrace ended, Christine nestled against him, her voice low and honeyed.

"Why is Susan always causing problems?" she pouted, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. "Tonight is my ovulation day. You promised me something to hold onto—you can't back out now."

Ray wrapped an arm around her waist, a smile of indulgence on his lips. "You're that eager to have my child?"

Christine giggled, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I have to secure at least one thing—either as your wife or as the mother of your child."

Ray leaned closer, his voice a murmur but still clear enough to pierce through the walls I had left around my heart. "Alright, see you at our usual spot tonight. I'll do my best to satisfy you."