Chapter 1

I was seven months into my pregnancy when a sudden, terrifying rush of blood left me weak and gasping. Luke, my husband, drove me to the hospital himself, but by the time we arrived, the bleeding was still pouring heavily, and the doctors warned that the baby was far too premature.

“Luke,” I pleaded through my tears, gripping his hand so tightly my nails pressed into his skin. “Please, you have to save our baby. Please don’t let anything happen to our child.”

His expression remained tense as he looked down at me, but before he could answer, his phone suddenly rang.

Through the fog of pain, I heard a familiar voice coming from the speaker.

Daniella.

The fragile, innocent orphan I had once taken under my wing. I had welcomed her into our home, paid for her education, bought her clothes, and cared for her as though she were my own younger sister.

“Luke, please!” Daniella cried desperately through the phone. “Don’t make me leave the country. I can’t do this without you. I can’t leave you behind because I love you, Luke. I have always loved you. If you force me onto that plane, I swear I’ll end my life!”

Everything inside me went still.

Luke froze as well.

“Daniella, calm down,” he said immediately. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do anything reckless.”

“Luke?” I whispered, reaching toward him despite the pain wracking my body. “Where are you going? I’m losing so much blood.”

He never even glanced in my direction.

Instead, he turned toward the doctor, his expression becoming completely detached.

“I have to leave,” he said. “I don’t have time to deal with her right now. Just make sure the baby survives.”

Then he walked away.

He left me there without another glance, abandoning me while I fought to bring our child into the world.

The pain became unbearable, swallowing every thought until darkness finally consumed me.

When consciousness returned several days later, the hospital room was unnaturally quiet. I lay motionless beneath the sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling while something inside me felt completely empty.

I no longer felt anger or sadness.

I simply felt hollow, as though whatever part of me had once loved Luke had already died.

Two days after I woke, Luke finally appeared.

Daniella came with him.

I looked at the two of them without saying a word. There were no tears left for me to shed, nor did I have the energy to demand an explanation.

After everything he had done, only one thought remained.

“I want a divorce.”

Luke’s response was immediate and indifferent.

“Fine. Sign the divorce agreement, and after that, stay out of our lives. I never want to see you again. You couldn’t even protect our child, so what use could you possibly be to me now?”

His words cut deeper than anything else he could have said.

Whatever remained of my heart finally broke.

Three years passed.

I never expected our paths to cross again, especially not at an exclusive private banquet attended by some of the most influential people in the city.

I stood near the balcony in an emerald silk gown made specifically for me, quietly sipping sparkling water while waiting for my husband.

Not Luke.

A different man.

The man who had found me when I was nothing but shattered pieces. The man who had patiently helped me rebuild my life, given me a new identity, and shown me a kind of love so fierce and unwavering that it frightened me at first.

He was upstairs attending a brief meeting, and I had no problem waiting for him.

Then a familiar voice cut through the music.

“What are you doing here?”

I turned slowly.

Daniella stood behind me.

She was no longer the timid orphan dressed in inexpensive hand-me-downs whom I had once pitied. Diamonds covered her body, and she wore an extravagant designer gown that probably cost more than everything I owned three years ago.

One hand rested proudly against her noticeably pregnant stomach.

Luke stood beside her in an impeccably tailored tuxedo. His expression carried the same arrogance I remembered from the day he abandoned me at the hospital.

“Baela,” he said with obvious contempt, twisting my name as though it offended him. “Didn’t we make it clear that you were never supposed to appear in front of us again?”

He stepped closer and looked me over with open disdain.

“Are you following me? Did you waste whatever money you received from the divorce settlement and come crawling back because you have nothing left?”

“I’m not following you,” I replied calmly. “This is a private event, and I was invited.”

“Invited?” Daniella repeated with a mocking laugh. Her voice was coated in false sweetness. “Please, Baela. Look at yourself. Someone like you has no place at an event like this. You’re obviously here because you want to ruin my evening.”

She suddenly moved closer to Luke and clung to his arm. Her expression changed as she pressed her other hand against her stomach.

“Luke, please make her leave,” she pleaded, forcing tears into her eyes. “I don’t feel comfortable around her. What if she tries to hurt me or the baby? You remember what happened when you chose me over her.”

Her words dragged an old memory back to life.

I remembered the day I had signed the divorce papers. While I was gathering my few belongings in the hospital, Daniella had approached me alone.

She had leaned close with a smile that revealed the cruelty hidden beneath her innocent appearance.

“It’s unfortunate that your baby had to die before I could take my rightful place,” she had whispered. “But don’t worry. I’ll give Luke the heir you were never capable of giving him.”

I had slapped her.

Luke arrived moments later, shoved me against the wall, and called me a jealous, barren woman.

The memory still burned.

Before I could respond, Luke stepped directly into my space, his eyes filled with the same cold hatred I remembered.

“Leave this event,” he ordered. “You don’t belong here, and I refuse to let an unstable, toxic woman like you upset my pregnant wife.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, lifting my chin. “My husband will be here soon.”

Luke laughed as though I had just told him the most ridiculous joke.

“Your husband?” he scoffed. “Who would marry a discarded, barren woman like you? Stop pretending, Baela. It’s embarrassing.”

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick bundle of hundred-dollar bills.

Before I could react, he threw the entire stack directly at my face.

The money struck my cheek before scattering across the polished marble floor around my feet.

“That should be enough for you,” he said contemptuously. “Pick it up, leave this place, and stay away from my family forever.”