Chapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, the woman my husband has always worshipped posted a sonogram on Instagram.

The caption was a thank you to my husband, Leo.

“To the man who has protected me for ten years, thank you for bringing me a son.”

My world went dark. I grabbed a burner account and replied in the comments: “Shameless homewrecker?”

Leo’s call came instantly, his voice tight with suppressed rage.

“Can’t you ever get your mind out of the gutter, Nora? I was a ‘donor,’ that’s it. I fulfilled her dream of being a single mother. This has nothing to do with us!”

“Besides, Isabella got it on the first try. You’ve had three rounds of IVF with nothing to show for it. Your womb is completely useless!”

Three days ago, he told me he had to fly to Miami for business. He said he wouldn’t be taking calls or answering texts.

I thought it was just pressing Family business. I never imagined he was accompanying another woman to her prenatal appointment.

Half an hour later, Isabella Rossi posted again. This time, a table laden with a lavish Italian feast.

“Tired of Michelin stars. Leo cooked for me himself. All my favorite dishes from back home~”

I looked down at the positive pregnancy report in my hand. The joy that had filled my heart moments before turned to ice.

Eight years of love, six years in a strategic marriage.

This time, I was finally ready to let go.

…

After hanging up, I took a picture of the anniversary dinner and cake I’d so carefully prepared and sent it to Leo in a private message.

He replied surprisingly fast.

“Is it your birthday?”

“I can’t fly back today. Just do something yourself.”

I let out a bitter laugh and dumped the entire cake into the trash.

My birthday. Our wedding anniversary.

Leo Moretti never remembered.

But when it came to Isabella, he kept a special notebook, meticulously documenting every detail of her life since high school.

I tucked the pregnancy report away.

I had planned to give it to him tonight, a gift to solidify our families’ alliance.

Now, it was pointless.

Six years of marriage without a child. I was forced to endure three painful IVF treatments, all of which failed.

I had given up hope, so I was shocked when I conceived naturally.

But my happiness lasted only a few minutes before I saw Isabella’s post.

For all I know, she conceived on the same day, using a "donation" from my husband's bloodline.

And I was the clueless little bird trapped in a golden cage, kept in the dark about everything.

I pulled the dishes in front of me. I had no appetite, but I had to eat for the baby.

The moment I smelled the rich bolognese sauce, a wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over, vomiting violently.

When it was over, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my lower abdomen.

Suddenly, I felt a warm, wet sensation spread beneath me.

Small spots of blood were soaking through my silk nightgown.

Panic seized me.

Were these the signs of losing the pregnancy?

No matter how disappointed I was in Leo, I had fought so hard for this baby. I couldn't let anything happen to him!

I grabbed my phone, intending to drive to the private hospital.

But the moment I opened my apartment door, my legs gave out. The pain was too intense, and I slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor.

I’d felt unwell this morning and spent half the day at the hospital for a check-up.

When I got home, I rushed to prepare dinner, convinced Leo would make it back to celebrate.

It must be low blood sugar.

I fumbled for my phone to call 911, but my vision was blurring, and I had no strength left.

Just then, the door to the penthouse across the hall clicked open. My new neighbor stepped out.

He saw my pale face and froze, then rushed over to help me up.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

A wave of relief washed over me. I begged him to take me to the hospital.

After the examination, the doctor confirmed my fears. It was a threatened pregnancy. He prescribed a pile of medications, his tone serious.

“You and your husband need to be extremely careful from now on. This pregnancy is already high-risk. You cannot afford any more emotional distress or physical exhaustion.”

Seeing the man’s confused expression, I quickly explained he wasn’t my husband.

“My husband… he’s out of town on business.”

The doctor nodded, then rattled off more instructions.

“Send a list of these to your husband. As the father, he needs to learn how to take care of a pregnant woman now.”

I managed a bitter smile.

Oh, he knows how to take care of a pregnant woman, I thought. Just the wrong one. He’s too busy taking care of another woman and her precious ‘heir.’