Chapter 1

Woken up by the sound of our baby boy crying from hunger, I gently nudged my sleeping wife.

"It is time to feed the baby," I whispered.

Roxanne rolled over, her voice dripping with irritation. "My milk supply is low. Go mix him a bottle of formula."

I carried our son into the living room to soothe him, holding him in one arm while shaking the formula bottle with the other.

As little Leo gulped down the milk, a sudden realization hit me. Roxanne had not nursed him in weeks.

Yet just last night, I clearly saw her pumping breast milk, lining up storage bags that took up half the dining table.

I walked over and pulled open the mini-fridge where the milk was kept. It was completely empty.

I unlocked my phone and opened my social media feed. Right at the top was a post made a few hours ago by Roxanne's former flame, Darren.

The caption read: 【Thank you, babe. You really love me the most.】

In the attached photo, Darren lay in a hospital bed, holding a glass of milk with a faint white mustache on his upper lip.

I remembered how hurriedly Roxanne had rushed out of the house this morning with a large insulated tote bag.

My fingers typed out a comment underneath his post: "Does my wife's breast milk taste good?"

1.

Darren replied almost instantly.

Instead of typing, he sent me a video.

In the clip, Roxanne bustled around his private hospital room. She wiped the sweat from his forehead and spoon-fed him lunch with delicate care.

She even gently massaged his legs to relieve his stiffness and pain.

The moment Darren knit his brows slightly, Roxanne asked with sheer panic, "Did I hurt you, Darren?"

"I am so sorry. I will be gentler."

I had never seen such tenderness and patience on her face in my entire life.

Roxanne and I were childhood sweethearts.

We had known each other for thirty years and had been married for five. Yet toward me, she had always been cold as ice, barely willing to spare a word.

Since we were kids, I followed her around, offering everything I had just to make her smile.

The day she finally agreed to marry me, I foolishly thought I had melted her frozen heart. I convinced myself that she was just naturally distant and unemotional.

Now I knew she was capable of fiery passion. She simply refused to give any of it to me.

Her devotion belonged entirely to Darren. All she ever reserved for me was endless apathy and annoyance.

I looked at the woman sleeping beside me, and my heart turned completely to stone.

I loved her, and I had tolerated her trampling on my dignity for years. But I never imagined she would neglect our own child.

While our starving son cried his eyes out, she was secretly pumping her milk drop by drop just to nourish Darren.

She was a terrible wife, but she was an even worse mother.

This broken marriage had to end.

The next morning, Roxanne paused when she saw the bowl of rich bone broth sitting on the dining table.

"Broth for breakfast?" she asked.

I ladled out a warm portion and handed it to her, forcing a faint smile.

"You said your milk supply was running low," I said calmly. "My mom said this helps with lactation. I went out early to get the ingredients and simmered it for you."

I had stayed up all night, and dark circles framed my bloodshot eyes.

The broth was actually bought from a nearby diner, but in Roxanne's eyes, I looked like a devoted husband who had slaved over the stove for hours.

Perhaps the thought of who had actually consumed her milk sparked a flicker of guilt. A rare softness crept into her voice.

"I have been too overwhelmed with work lately and neglected my health. Let Leo... just stick to formula from now on."

I stared at her full chest and let out a silent, bitter sneer.

Busy? Busy nursing a grown man in a hospital bed? I never imagined she would sink this low for Darren.

She took two sips of the broth, as if suddenly remembering something important.

"Leo is still so small and needs constant care. My mother is busy too, so why don't you stay home full-time to look after him?"

I snapped my head up, staring at her in disbelief. "What about the corporate project I am running?"

She avoided my gaze. "Hand it over to Darren. He majored in this field abroad, and I trust his competence."

"Besides, the contract is practically finalized. There won't be any complications."

I fell dead silent.

That project was the result of two grueling years of my life.

The client was a massive regional conglomerate that would have never looked twice at a struggling startup like Roxanne's.

I knew that only an investment of this scale could pull her dying company back from the brink of bankruptcy.

I spent months networking, catering to the client's preferences, and drinking heavily at business dinners until I suffered a perforated stomach ulcer.

That night, doubled over in agonizing pain, I dialed Roxanne's number with trembling hands.

The joy of closing the deal had completely overshadowed my physical agony.

I wanted to tell her that the contract was secured, that millions in funding were on the way, and that her company was saved.

Yet the moment she picked up, she unleashed a barrage of fury. "Chase, why the hell are you calling me non-stop? I am busy. I don't have time for your nonsense."

"Using cheap theatrics to get my attention is pathetic. Pull this stunt again and see if I don't divorce you."

"If you have this much free time, go home and watch Leo. You run around all day doing God knows what. You are completely useless!"

Then came the harsh dial tone.

Before losing consciousness on the cold pavement, I managed to dial 911.

When I woke up in the hospital, the nurse told me that if the ambulance had arrived ten minutes later, I would have died from internal bleeding.

Lying on that sterile bed, I had thought that dying might actually be a relief, since nobody in this world truly cared about me.

My only heartbreak was for little Leo, who would have lost his father before his first birthday.