Chapter 1

On the eve of our wedding, an accident left me with disabled legs.

My husband had his female assistant step in as a last-minute replacement to be the bride.

"We're so close to the finish line. What if the investors see a disabled bride and back out at the last minute?"

For the sake of reviving his family business, my identity was replaced, and I became his hidden wife.

Later, he succeeded, but on the 29th time he promised to reveal my identity as his wife, he broke his promise again because of Xanthe.

Finally, I decided to leave him, but he begged me to come back like a madman.

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Today marks the grand opening of his new gallery after reclaiming full ownership of the family's art museum. It's also the 29th time he's promised to publicly announce our relationship.

But as the ceremony is about to begin, I'm bustling about in my wheelchair while he's busy feeding Xanthe ice cream.

As I turn a corner, I accidentally bump into a display column, knocking it over.

A staff member immediately berates me:

"If you can't manage your legs, stay out of the way. You're just causing trouble."

Fitch frowns in displeasure:

"What's wrong with you? Can't you do anything right? These paintings are extremely valuable. Can you take responsibility if you damage them?"

I remain silent, just looking at him.

Seeing that I seem upset, he softly reprimands the employee:

"I don't want to hear any discriminatory remarks about disabled people again!"

Over the years, whenever someone commented on my disability, he would always defend me.

I used to think he genuinely cared for me and didn't mind my paralyzed legs.

But today, I realize I might have been wrong.

Because even after the opening ceremony ended, he still hadn't announced our relationship.

For four years, I've endured watching him and Xanthe play the role of a married couple in public, all to help him revive his family's legacy in the art world.

I've been wholeheartedly devoted to him, but he keeps disappointing me time and time again. I turn my wheelchair to face him:

"Fitch, you promised to publicly announce today that I'm your true wife."

Xanthe suddenly lets out a whimper, collapsing into his arms, and coos:

"Honey, my stomach feels off. I think I ate something bad."

She calls him 'honey' so naturally, her voice not particularly quiet.

She's certain that in front of others, she's his "rightful" wife.

I look at Fitch, but he ignores me, his face tense as he scoops Xanthe up in his arms.

"It must be the ice cream from earlier upsetting your stomach."

"Sapphire, I'm taking her to the hospital. The announcement can wait."

With that, he calls for my driver and carries Xanthe into the backseat.

The car speeds away, leaving a trail of dust.

In the past, even if I couldn't chase after them, I would've frantically called to demand why he was treating me this way, especially after he had promised.

But today, I just silently watch the car disappear, no longer feeling the urge to pursue and question.

Fitch took my personal driver, so I have to take a cab home.

But when the taxi driver sees me in a wheelchair, he just waves his hand:

"I can't fit a wheelchair in my car. You'll have to cancel the ride." Perhaps sensing that I hadn't bombarded him with my usual flurry of calls, Fitch phoned me.

"Xanthe's health is the priority. You need to see a doctor. How about I take you to a movie tonight as a make-up date?"

After being rejected by a second cab, I instinctively blurted out:

"Fitch, I can't get a ride..."

But from the other end of the line came Xanthe's soft, coquettish murmur. Before I could finish speaking, Fitch hastily hung up.

I took a deep breath and contacted my agent to come pick me up.

This would be the last time I tried to rely on him.

We had dated for 3 years and been married for 4. Our 7-year relationship ends here.