Chapter 1

On the day I went into labor, my husband's ex-girlfriend posted on her feed.

The photo showed her sitting on the edge of a highway overpass, cradling a porcelain doll.

Her caption read: "If I hadn't lost our baby, they would have been just as beautiful as this doll."

Rowan saw the post and commented with cold irony: "What kind of stunt is this? She wouldn't actually jump."

But a moment later, he sprinted out the door and didn't come back all night.

Lying on the freezing operating table, I spoke calmly to the surgeon.

"My husband died today. There's no need to save the baby for him."

1

Three hours before I was wheeled into surgery, Rowan told me he was stepping out for a bit and would be back soon.

Two hours before surgery, my water broke. I called him over a dozen times through the searing pain, but he didn't pick up once.

One hour before surgery, I was alone in a speeding ambulance, my dress soaked crimson with blood.

I had fallen down the stairs, and now both my life and the baby's hung by a thread.

At the hospital, I was handed a critical condition notice, but there was no one there to sign it.

The nurse urged me to contact my family. My hands shook as I scrolled through my phone, and I accidentally tapped on a social media notification.

Misty Summers, Rowan's ex, had posted a photo of herself sitting on a bridge railing with a doll. Her caption was a pathetic plea about their lost child.

The post was from three hours ago, and the top comment was from Rowan.

"Are you crazy? You won't actually fall."

I froze. As the page refreshed, a new post from Rowan hit me like a physical blow.

It was a photo of Misty's back as they walked away together. His caption: "Glad I made it in time."

The air in the hospital felt thick and suffocating, yet I was shivering.

The surgery couldn't wait. As they pushed me into the trauma room, the doctor told me the baby couldn't be saved.

They would focus entirely on keeping me alive.

It felt as if someone had reached into my chest and hollowed out my heart, leaving only a jagged, raw ache.

I lay on the cold table, feeling the life drain out of me.

"If the baby is gone, then let it be. My husband died today anyway."

My daughter was pronounced dead after the failed resuscitation.

The doctor told me she was full-term and perfect.

I looked at the tiny, still form, and a sharp, final pain pierced my soul.

When I woke up in the recovery ward, I sent Rowan a single text.

【Divorce.】

The message didn't go through. A red exclamation mark appeared―he had blocked me.

I stared at the screen, then screenshotted it and posted it to my own feed.

【First day in the hospital, and my husband has already blocked me. I guess I'm just a burden now.】

I had added many of his business partners and friends over the years to better understand his world.

Rowan obsessed over his reputation and played the role of the devoted husband perfectly in public.

The moment I posted that, the comments section exploded. I ignored every single one of them.