Chapter 1

Eight years of secret marriage, and Harrison Cole was known as Hollywood's most devoted husband.

As an A-list idol, he never had a single scandal to his name.

Whenever he appeared on reality shows or talk shows with glamorous starlets, he went out of his way to keep his distance.

"Sorry, but my wife gets insecure."

Ever since his debut, his profile picture across every social media platform had been a photo of my back from when we first started dating.

Everyone in the industry envied our fairy-tale romance, and everyone wondered what kind of breathtaking face belonged to the girl in that photo.

Yet today, while organizing the walk-in closet, I found an ultrasound report and an intimate photograph tucked inside his coat pocket.

In the photo, the girl already had a slight baby bump. She was sitting on a shoe rack wearing only an oversized dress shirt, while the shirtless owner of the shirt knelt down to put shoes on her feet.

The name printed on the ultrasound report matched the girl in the picture.

I knew exactly who she was.

She was the devoted fangirl Harrison had publicly turned down just days ago.

1

Footsteps approached outside the bedroom door.

I calmly slipped the photo back into the coat pocket and continued folding the laundry beside me.

Harrison reeked faintly of bourbon as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his voice thick with sleep. "Why is my Rowan still awake? Come to bed with me, okay?"

When I did not respond, he slowly opened his heavy eyelids. His gaze dropped straight to the jacket in my hands.

His drowsiness vanished in an instant, and his large hands stiffened against my waist.

"This... I gave this jacket away a couple of days ago. Look at my terrible memory, how did it end up back here?"

Watching the clumsy panic flicker across his face, I nodded placidly. "No worries. I just got to this one and haven't touched it yet."

He let out a quiet breath of relief, stepped around me, and pulled the jacket tightly into his arms. "Rowan, you work so hard every day. Leave chores like this for me when I get home."

As he spoke, his fingers stealthily reached into the pocket to check the contents.

I did not even look up as I folded a sweater, watching his strained, casual expression in the vanity mirror.

A wave of nausea churned violently in my stomach.

"Rowan, you... I just noticed there was still something in this pocket. You didn't touch other people's things, did you?"

His guilty tone only confirmed the reality of what was hidden inside.

After a brief pause, I answered with mild impatience. "No. Was there something important in there?"

Harrison shook his head frantically, forcing an awkward chuckle. "No, of course not. I just think it's bad to accidentally invade someone else's privacy."

After I went to bed, Harrison lingered in the closet for a long time before finally crawling under the sheets.

He pulled me into his chest from behind, murmuring affectionately against my ear. "Rowan, the closet looks a bit bare lately. I have the next two days off, so let me take you shopping tomorrow, okay?"

I took a slow, deep breath and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Harrison and I were childhood sweethearts, married for eight years.

He had never done a single thing to make me feel insecure, and he always maintained strict boundaries with other women.

Whenever business dinners or networking galas came up, he skipped them all, even at the risk of offending powerful producers.

His excuse was always the exact same.

"My girl is waiting for me at home. I can't stay out late, or she'll worry."

His social media accounts followed no other women. Even when wealthy female studio heads offered to back his career, he turned them down without hesitation.

"I make money to take care of my wife. If anything I do makes her unhappy, then no matter how much money I earn, it's not worth it."

His reputation as Hollywood's most devoted husband spread far and wide. People marveled at his early marriage, and women across the country envied me for having the ultimate dream man.

Recalling all of this, the ultrasound report and the intimate photograph flashed vividly in my mind.

I opened my eyes in the dark, staring into the quiet bedroom, and exhaled softly.

"No need. I don't want anything."