Chapter 1 Disappointment
At ten in the evening, Emily Carter returned to Brocade Estates.
Today was the fifteenth—her ovulation day.
Her first kid was a girl, and ever since, her in-laws had been breathing down her neck for another.
If it were any other family, she would’ve snapped, “You got a throne to pass down or something?”
But the Wilsons? They were LA’s richest. With billions in assets, they actually needed a male heir.
By the time she reached the bedroom, Ethan Wilson had already showered.
No “How was your day?” No “You look tired.” They cut straight to the chase.
Three minutes later, Ethan headed to the bathroom to clean up.
Emily lay in bed, his warmth still faint on her skin.
Ethan stepped out soon after, back to her as he pulled on his clothes. “Keep testing. Call me when it’s positive.”
Five years of marriage, and he’d always been this quiet, this distant with her.
Their marriage was just a label.
Ethan had a mistress.
Emily went through all his social media accounts looking for clues, finally tracking down the woman’s profile. Since then, she’d been secretly stalking it.
Her husband’s whereabouts… she could only see them through the woman wrecking her marriage.
That woman posted everything constantly, from daily meals to holidays and birthdays. Ethan was always in them.
Before the “second kid” plan, Emily barely saw him. Now, they met once a month.
Emily knew he was in a hurry to leave. She swung her legs over the bed and called out to his retreating back. “Hey, we need to talk.”
Ethan turned, face blank. “About what?”
Emily’s voice dropped, almost a beg. “I want… I want us to have a real life. Together.”
She knew this marriage was falling apart, but she had to try.
What if it worked?
She’d married the man she loved and had his daughter. She couldn’t just let it all crash and burn.
But her words vanished, like stones in the ocean. She couldn’t tell if he didn’t hear, or just didn’t care.
Ethan buttoned his shirt with practiced precision, clipped on his watch, and turned toward the door.
Emily stood up, but this time, she didn’t rush toward him, didn’t throw herself into his arms or beg him to stay like she once had.
Just as he reached for the door handle, her voice cracked through the silence. “Ethan! You only came here once a month. And you never called me.
“We never even had a meal together. What kind of marriage is this? ”
Ethan froze mid-step. After a long pause, he turned to her.
He didn’t look at her tears, didn’t acknowledge her hurt. He just said, “When you’re pregnant with a son, I’ll move back to Brocade Estates.”
Then he left. No hesitation, no glance back.
Emily stood there frozen. She didn’t chase after him this time.
Eight years of loving him. Five years married. She gave him everything.
When she had their daughter, she almost died from an amniotic fluid embolism. The doctors had given her three critical condition notices.
Even after that, she was ready to risk death again for a second kid, a boy.
But in that moment? She felt lost.
Is it worth it? Or I’m just fooling myself?
After her shower, Emily grabbed her phone like she always did.
She opened the video app and clicked “Favorites.”
There it was—one profile: “Nancie,” with a smiling avatar that seemed almost too sweet.
She tapped it, and a new video appeared, posted just two minutes ago.
It was a dark shot: two figures under a streetlight. But in the corner of the frame, their hands were locked together, matching couple bracelets gleaming in the dim light.
The caption read: “Two shadows under the streetlight. One’s mine. The other’s mine too.”
Emily’s chest tightened, but it didn’t hurt like it used to.
No more gut punches, no more sobbing. Maybe she was used to it now.
Every time they met, Ethan rushed off to be with Nancy Thompson.
She fought to push the feeling down.
As long as Ethan still wanted her to have his heir, no one could take her place as Mrs. Wilson.
She just had to choke down this broken, half-empty marriage herself.
******
A month later. 7 PM.
Emily gripped the pregnancy test tightly in her hand.
Finally, it was positive.
She rushed back to Brocade Estates as fast as she could.
She was about to step into the living room when she heard her mother-in-law, Emma Wilson, snap. “Ethan, you’re 32! Five years married, and the first kid’s a girl…
“Fine. But why are you dragging your feet on the second one? Once a month? How’s Emily supposed to get pregnant like that?”
Emma’s voice rose. “If she can’t do it, let that woman of yours have a kid. As long as it’s a son with Wilson blood, I’ll take him.”
Ethan shot back fast, “It’s not the same.”
Emma scoffed. “How is it not the same?”
Emily stepped back, heart racing.
Ethan was defending her. Even if he messed around, she was still his only wife.
Then Ethan spoke again. “Mom, did you forget? Emily had an amniotic fluid embolism when she had Sophie.”
Emma’s tone turned cold, then cutting. “You dare bring that up? We married a jinx! Other women have four, five kids without a problem, but she has to make a scene.
“One kid, and the Wilsons were all over social media for three days. Bad luck, that’s what she is!”
Ethan didn’t let Emma’s rant go on. “Childbirth’s risky. Emily already went through it, she’s tough. But Nancy’s still young. I can’t ask her to take that risk.”
Outside the door, Emily felt like she’d been struck by lightning.
She stood rooted to the spot, unable to even cry.
She knew Ethan didn’t love her. Knew he cheated. Knew they shouldn’t keep going. But she’d lied to herself: maybe a child would tie him to her. Maybe she’d always be Mrs. Wilson.
But the truth was worse than she imagined. To Ethan, she was just a womb.
He forgot. After Sophia, she’d had depression. She was scared of blood. The doctors had pulled her back from death’s door.
He was scared for Nancy, but he never cared about her.
Inside, Emma and Ethan kept talking, but Emily couldn’t hear them anymore.
She’d risked her life to keep the Wilson name going, and all she got was a husband who cheated, and nights alone.
She squeezed the pregnancy test.
It’s time to end this.
Today was supposed to be their monthly “try” for a second kid. Now it felt completely pointless.
And the baby in her belly? Maybe it didn’t need to be born into this.
If no one cared if she lived or died, she had to care for herself.
She turned to leave.
Then the maid, Jane, spotted her. “Mrs. Wilson? You’re home?”
Emily forced a smile.
Today is as good a day as any to talk about divorce.
