Chapter 1 Prelude: The Betrayal

Anastasia Greene Johnson I lay crumpled across the sofa, sobbing until my lungs ached, while the clock dragged itself past half-past midnight. Ethan still wasn't home. Every tick seemed to drive another splinter beneath my ribs. With trembling fingers, I clutched the photographs-the vile little collection someone had slipped beneath my door-and stared at them again, hoping that somehow, if I looked hard enough, they would become something else. They didn't. "This... this can't be true." My voice broke. "It can't." I shook my head violently. "I don't believe it. I won't believe it!" In a burst of fury, I flung the photographs onto the marble floor. They scattered around me like pale leaves caught in a storm. I tore several in half, then again, until scraps fluttered around my feet. My hands tangled helplessly in my hair. A raw cry tore from my throat. Ethan had travelled for work countless times before. He had left me and Ruslan behind and crossed oceans without ever giving me reason to doubt him. Never like this. Even when he was thousands of miles away, he always called. Sometimes it was only for a few minutes, but he made sure I heard his voice every day. Yet this last trip. . . This cursed trip had been different. He had left without telling me where he was going and returned a week later with a strange silence hanging over him. His eyes had looked tired. His answers had been clipped. We had argued before he left. I'd wanted to work at a patisserie. He'd refused. He wanted me at home, spending his money rather than earning my own. I hadn't agreed, and my insistence had clearly upset him. But surely that was nothing capable of creating this. I had told myself he was exhausted. Buried beneath work. I had given him space, sent little messages instead, reminding him to eat and sleep. He read every one. Answered none. And yet, somehow, I had still felt loved. I remembered him finding me asleep on the sofa and quietly pulling a blanket over me. The soft kiss he'd press against my forehead before dawn. The quiet click of his tongue whenever he discovered me curled up somewhere cold. Even during arguments, his arms found me in his sleep as though some part of him knew where I belonged. Then what in God's name is this? I looked down at the photographs again. The woman's hair was similar to mine. But it wasn't me. Who is that woman lying half-naked beside my husband? Ethan would never do this. He loved me. He said it constantly. More importantly, he showed it. So why these photographs? Why this deliberate wound carved straight through everything I believed about us? Ethan and I had been happy. At least, I had believed we were. Our marriage had been built on passion and tenderness, on desire and devotion, on raising our son together and all the quiet little rituals that belonged only to us. How could he have strayed? I'm his wife. Ruslan's mother. He was the one who insisted we marry so quickly. How could he destroy something he fought so hard to build? My throat burned. I reached for the glass of water beside me and swallowed desperately. It barely helped. Then- The doorbell rang. My heart lurched. "Ethan..." Hope came rushing back so quickly it almost hurt. "It must be him." I scrambled towards the door. "He'll explain. He'll prove this is all a lie. He has to." I flung it open, a trembling smile already forming. "Honey, welco-" The word died in my throat. Ethan stood there. Or rather, he was being held upright by another woman. His head lolled against her shoulder, his body utterly slack. His bespoke grey suit was immaculate in every respect except for the vivid red lipstick smeared across the collar, his lips and the side of his neck. His hair was dishevelled. His eyes were closed. The woman looked at me with a vicious smile. "Hello," Her voice was smooth as silk and twice as poisonous. "Remember me?" My stomach dropped. That voice and that face... The restaurant. My eighteenth birthday. The lounge where Ethan and I had first crossed paths. She had been there. "I hope you do," she continued sweetly. "Small world, isn't it?" Before I could answer, she swept past me. She nudged me aside as though I were an inconvenience rather than the woman who lived there. Then she laid Ethan carefully on the sofa and brushed his untidy hair away from his forehead with startling familiarity. Rage flared inside me. I slapped her hand away. "Don't touch my husband!" She stared at me. Then laughed. A low, mocking sound. "Husband?" Her smile sharpened. "You mean the man who slept with me because he was tired of you?" "Liar!" My voice cracked. "Ethan would never do that! He loves me!" "Oh, sweetheart." Her expression became almost pitying. "How naïve." She folded her arms. "Did you honestly believe a man like Ethan could ever settle for one woman?" Her eyes travelled over me. "And even if he could, why would it be you? You're nothing special." The words struck harder than I wanted to admit. She stepped closer. "Should I enlighten you?" I couldn't speak. "Ethan and I were promised to one another long before you ever appeared in his life. I was his first." Her smile widened. "And I'll be his last." My breath caught. "You're..." The name surfaced. "Valerie." Her eyes gleamed. "Oh, so you do remember me." She laughed softly. "He told you about me, then? Wonderful. That must make this even more painful." She leaned closer. "He regrets that night with you, you know. Your eighteenth birthday. He told me everything. Said it was nothing but lust. A moment of misplaced emotion after seeing me at the restaurant." My head shook before I could stop it. "No." "He thought about me even while he was with you." "No! You're lying! He loves me!" "Really?" Her smile was merciless. "Then tell me-what exactly does a man like Ethan see in you? What do you offer him besides your body? Even that apparently isn't enough anymore." She tilted her head. "He's moved on," Her voice dropped. "I told you that day - rare jewels don't stay with beggars who can't afford them." I stood there trembling. But I refused to look away. I waited. Prayed - if Ethan woke up, he'd deny everything. He had to. Then- "Mm... I love you..." Ethan stirred weakly on the sofa. "I'm sorry..." His voice was thick with intoxication. "I won't leave you again... I won't ignore you anymore..." Valerie gasped dramatically. "Would you look at that?" She turned towards me. "He's been saying that for months. Begging me to forgive him. Begging to come back." Her smile became cruel. "First love is impossible to forget, isn't it?" Something inside me broke. "STOP IT, YOU SLUT!" I lunged. My hands closed around her throat. I wanted to silence her. But she shoved me away with shocking force. I hit the marble floor hard. "You bitch!" She glared down at me. "No wonder he grew tired of you. You're completely unhinged." I surged back to my feet and grabbed her hair. Only then did I really notice it. Her hair had once been red. Now it was dyed a pale brown, falling in glossy waves almost to her waist-nearly the same length as mine. I didn't care. "ETHAN IS MINE!" My voice tore through the room. "MINE! No one is taking him from me-least of all you!" Her palm struck my face. The impact sent me sprawling. Pain exploded across my cheek. "You pathetic little bitch," she looked down at me with open contempt. "You still don't understand, do you? Ethan feels nothing for you. You aren't his wife. You're just his mistress. A kept woman who looks after his child and warms his bed when he wants you. A man who truly loves a woman doesn't humiliate her like this. Face the truth." My vision blurred. Tears streamed down my face until there was nothing left to cry. But Valerie wasn't finished as she went through her phone. "Those photographs might not have been enough." She muttered and thrust the screen on my face. "Look." There was a photograph. Two children. Both around Ruslan's age. One was perched on Ethan's back, laughing. The other had tiny teeth clamped playfully around his arm. And Ethan- He was smiling. Not his public smile. Something softer. Unprotected. A father's smile. My stomach twisted. "Who..." My voice barely existed. "Who are they?" Valerie's lips curved. "What do you think?" She leaned towards me. "They're my and Ethan's children." My entire world went still. For one terrible heartbeat, I couldn't even understand the words. Then fury detonated inside me. I lunged towards her again. She shoved me away. "Don't touch me!" Her voice rose. "Accept it! Your perfect little life with Ethan is a lie. He doesn't love you. He never has!" "No!" The scream ripped out of me. I covered my ears. It isn't true. None of it. Ethan loves me. He's my husband. Ruslan's father. He would never betray us. I repeated it silently, desperately, as though the words could hold my mind together. But Valerie was watching me with the satisfaction of someone who knew she had already won. Then she delivered the final blow. "Remember your miscarriage two years ago?" I froze. "It wasn't nature," Her voice was almost gentle now. "Ethan did it." My blood ran cold. "He told me everything. He couldn't bear the thought of having another child with you. He wanted me to be his true wife. The mother of his heirs." She smiled. "And that's exactly what I am." I couldn't breathe. "He promised me your days were numbered. He'd divorce you soon." Her eyes gleamed. "Soon, Anastasia, you'll be nothing more than a bitter memory." Her words entered me slowly, like poison spreading through my bloodstream. First came disbelief. Then horror. Then grief so enormous it seemed to swallow everything else. Ethan... Did you really kill our children because you didn't want them?