Chapter 1

Three days after our wedding, my wife brought her three-month-old brother home for us to raise.

To provide for him, she secretly got an IUD to avoid having our own children and emptied our bank accounts to support her family.

Later, when I fell gravely ill, I overheard her parents whispering in my room.

"Why waste money on treatment? Let him die so the inheritance goes to your brother. You can always find someone else."

Too bad for them, I didn't die. And I'm not letting a single one of them off the hook!

1

I stared at the medical record for my wife's IUD insertion.

I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window on the balcony, smoking one cigarette after another.

It wasn't until the last one burned down to my skin that the sharp sting snapped me back to reality.

That morning, while cleaning up my brother-in-law's playroom, I found this hospital record hidden under a Lego set I had bought him.

The record showed that Annie Curtis had the IUD inserted two years ago.

For the past two years, we had been trying to conceive. I had quit smoking, stopped drinking, taken vitamins, and worked out every day.

I prepared balanced, nutritious meals for her every single morning. I took her on vacations to keep her stress-free, all because experts said a good mood helps with pregnancy.

But she had already shut that door two years ago.

I looked through the glass at my wife inside the house.

Annie's figure had softened over the years. She was wearing loose, oversized loungewear, and her once-radiant face now looked pale and sallow.

She was patiently playing with her five-year-old brother, Toby.

The dinner table was a disaster, with Toby's plate and silverware still scattered on the floor.

Usually, I was the one who cleaned all of this up.

The living room was a mess of toys and cartoon books. Used tissues and wet wipes were tossed everywhere by the kid.

Even the expensive wallpaper we had picked out was covered in colorful crayon scribbles.

We had been married for over four years.

I had only experienced three days of peace―the time between our wedding day and the day we returned to visit her parents.

On the day we came back, she brought her three-month-old brother into our home.

"Honey, my dad is always away at construction sites, and my mom is too old to handle a newborn," she had told me. "Let's help them out for a while."

I had smiled and agreed, thinking it was only right to help family.

I thought it would be a temporary thing. I never expected it to last five years.

As I was lost in thought, Annie stood up and barked an order at me.

"Lucas, I'm taking Toby for a bath. Clean up the living room."

Toby was still jumping around on his play mat, throwing toy balls at her.

I just watched her silently, not saying a word.

"Did you hear me? I'm exhausted. I want to rest after his bath."

Maybe she really was tired, because her voice was dripping with irritation.

She stared at me impatiently, waiting for an answer. It wasn't until I crushed my cigarette and gave a low "Mhm" that she picked up the boy.

As she turned away, she suddenly remembered something and glared at me. "Don't smoke in the house anymore. Toby is too young to breathe in second-hand smoke."

Looking at her bossy expression, I suddenly wanted to rip her mask off right then and there.

But I knew it wasn't the right time.

I still needed to investigate those strange call logs I had found.

I met Annie right after she graduated from college.

I was on an Amtrak train heading to Chicago for a business trip.

She was moving out of her dorm, struggling with a mountain of luggage and a small potted plant in her arms.

She had her hair in a high ponytail and looked so full of life. Even without makeup, she was stunning. Her seat happened to be right next to mine.

Her bags were so heavy she could barely lift them. I stood up and helped her tuck them into the overhead rack.

With a slight blush, she thanked me. "Could you switch seats with me? I want my little friend to see the window."

She pointed to the succulent in her lap. She said it had been her best friend through four years of college.

In that moment, her smile was soft, and the afternoon sun hitting her face made her look ethereal.

My heart skipped a beat. I agreed to the switch without a second thought.