ManyWriters

For ten years of our marriage, whenever Damian Blackwood cheated, I was the one who cleaned up his messes.
It had become an open secret, whispered throughout the elite circles of Los Angeles.
Until he started toying with a viral model from Texas and carelessly knocked her up.
As was my routine, I threw down a ten million dollar check, ordering her to have an abortion and disappear.
But that very night, as Amber Lynn lay in the hospital, tears streaming down her face, Damian lost all control and kicked the door open.
"Who told you to lay a hand on her?"
"Claire, Amber isn't like the others. I'm keeping this child."
"From today onwards, you are to take care of her every need. If anything happens to the child, you'll be held solely responsible!"
His investment partner, standing nearby, tried to placate me:
"Mrs. Blackwood, this is just a passing fancy for him. Don't take it to heart. Amber is merely a pretty plaything; how could she ever measure up to you?"
"Making a bit of a fuss is one thing, but that should be the end of it. You wouldn't actually dare to divorce him, would you? You've endured this for ten years; this time will be no different."
He had cheated hundreds of times before, and each time, I was the one managing the public relations fallout.
Everyone said I was hopelessly devoted to Damian, that I'd sooner die than leave his side.
But this time, I suddenly felt… weary.

Gilded Cage, Broken Wings

Two days passed, and Damian hadn’t appeared again.


The way the servants in Beverly Hills looked at me shifted from initial respect to eventual disdain and scorn.


Even to my face, they would mock me coldly.


"Still think you're the former Mrs. Blackwood? You're just a worn-out socialite!"


"The fact that Mr. Damian let that video circulate for so long shows that Miss Amber is the only one in his heart."


"I heard that to ensure Miss Amber has a comfortable pregnancy, Mr. Damian generously bought her a beachfront villa in Malibu. He's been staying there these past few days, while this house is practically breeding maggots!"


I opened my phone, and a news item popped up on Amber's university social media account.


Damian had invested over a hundred million dollars to build a separate women's dormitory.


All to ensure his sweetheart could live comfortably.


The academic buildings, the fountain plaza, the athletic field.


All those dating spots popular with university couples—he had taken Amber to every single one.


On the forums, candid photos of the two, taken by students, radiated happiness in every detail.


Once, I too had yearned for simplicity and sincerity.


During the passionate days of our early marriage, I would cling to him, coaxing and pleading.


Begging him to take me to charity galas, begging him to publicly acknowledge our marriage.But back then, he only looked at me coldly, his voice laced with impatience.


"Someone in my position can't give you the romance you crave," he'd said. "If you regret this, you can divorce me anytime."


"Claire, one can't have everything. As Mrs. Blackwood, you have to make sacrifices."


He used to say he loathed taking pictures, detested being on camera.


But now, when it came to Amber, all his principles were shattered.


When I first discovered I was pregnant, I was ecstatic, and I bought a mountain of baby supplies.


I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he came home that day.


"It's just a pregnancy," he'd sneered. "Was it necessary to make such a fuss?"


"Why didn't you just buy out the entire baby aisle at the store?"


A week after my miscarriage, I was bedridden with uterine adhesions. I messaged him, begging him to come and be with me.


But his only response was a hotel check-in receipt.


All of Damian’s attention was lavished on Amber; he had even deliberately chosen room number 143.


Furious, unwilling to accept it, I hired a messenger to knock on their door.


In return, I was thrown out of the hospital, abandoned amidst the city traffic.


Now I finally see it clearly: true love—the kind that makes exceptions—never needs an excuse.


Chapter 4