Chapter 1

Five years I' d been married to Marcus Thorne, CEO of Thorne Tech.

Tonight was his company' s biggest gala, a glittery affair I usually dreaded but tonight, I felt a fragile hope.

We' d been trying for another baby.

The doctors said it might be difficult after what happened five years ago.

That day, I lost our first child, a tiny flutter of life gone too soon.

My father, trying to save Marcus from a collapsing scaffold at one of his new construction sites, suffered a brain injury.

He' s been in a care facility ever since, a shell of the man he was, unable to speak, to recognize me.

Marcus had been devastated by the accident, by my father' s sacrifice.

He' d sworn he' d make it up to me, to us.

He was prominent, powerful, and for a while, he was attentive.

But the hope I carried tonight was fragile for a reason.

The ballroom buzzed, chandeliers dripped light.

Marcus was on stage, charming as ever, talking about innovation.

I watched him, the man I loved, the man I' d forgiven so much for.

Then, a woman stepped forward from the side of the stage.

Chloe, a young intern Marcus had "mentored."

She was visibly pregnant, at least six months along.

She took the microphone Marcus offered, a triumphant smile on her face.

"And I have a special announcement," she said, her voice echoing. "Marcus and I are expecting a child."

The room fell silent.

My breath caught.

Marcus froze, his smile wiped clean.

Chloe placed a hand on her swollen belly. "Our baby."

The silence stretched, then erupted into whispers.

I felt every eye in the room turn to me.

My world tilted.

Betrayal, cold and sharp, flooded me.

Marcus rushed off stage, not to me, but towards Chloe, then seemed to change his mind, his face a mask of panic.

Later that night, after the scandal broke across every news outlet, Marcus came home.

He knelt before me, tears streaming down his face.

"Elara, forgive me. It was a mistake, a drunken night. I was stupid, so stupid."

He held a press conference the next day.

More tears, more public apologies.

He bought out a florist, filling our home with roses I was allergic to.

"I' ll handle Chloe," he promised. "She won' t interfere with us. It was a one-time mistake. I love you, Elara. Only you."

I looked at him, this powerful man, brought low.

I remembered the vows, the dreams we shared.

I remembered the pain of losing our first child, the fear of never having another.

My heart ached.

I still loved him.

I wanted our marriage, our future.

"Okay, Marcus," I whispered. "I forgive you."

He clung to me, sobbing.

I held him, a deep weariness settling in my bones.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a name echoed: Liam.

Years ago, during a violent campus protest that turned into a riot, I' d pulled him from the path of a surging crowd, likely saving his life. He' d sworn he owed me. I hadn't thought of it in years.