Chapter 1

After I got pregnant, I became incredibly anxious.

Every day, I'd text Ethan Vance, asking if he loved me.

For the first 99 times, he'd respond gently.

Until the 100th time I asked.

He suddenly replied with three impatient messages.

`[Aria, are you that bored?]`

`[Now that your morning sickness is over and the baby isn't bothering you, you're going to start bothering me?]`

`[If you have so much time, why don't you look in the mirror and see that face of yours? It looks like a bruised piece of meat.]`

I froze.

The next second, the messages were unsent, and a voice message popped up.

"My apologies, my assistant accidentally sent that. Please don't mind it."

Whether it was accidental or not didn't matter anymore.

All I knew was, our marriage was completely over.

I got up and went to the clinic.

When I walked out, my four-month-old baby was gone.

By the time I got home, it was pitch black outside.

The living room lights were on, and Ethan Vance was sitting on the couch.

He looked up when he heard the door, his brows furrowed.

"Where have you been? Why are you back so late? Couldn't you bother to reply to my messages or calls?"

I didn't say anything.

I kicked off my shoes and went to pour myself a glass of water.

He looked at me, his gaze lingering on my face for a few seconds before he finally spoke:

"About what happened this afternoon, I explained it to you. My assistant grabbed the wrong phone."

"She's already apologized to me, and I gave her a stern talking-to. It won't happen again."

An assistant, grabbing her boss's private phone by mistake?

I chuckled softly, put down my glass, and looked at him.

Ethan Vance was incredibly handsome.

I'd known that from the first moment I saw him.

Now at thirty-three, he looked better than most men his age. Sitting on the couch in his loungewear, he looked like he'd stepped right out of a magazine.

I used to love looking at him, thinking I'd never get tired of it.

But today, I suddenly realized that his good looks had nothing to do with me anymore.

It was like a beautiful dress in a storefront window. You look at it for a long time through the glass, thinking it's yours, but you never actually get to hold it.

"Ethan,"

I spoke, my voice calmer than I expected: "What was your assistant's name again?"

He paused.

"Megan. Why?"

"How long has she been with you?"

"About six months," he said, then added, "Why are you asking? I told you it was a misunderstanding, didn't I? Do you have to keep dwelling on it? Can't you just pretend you didn't see it?"

He fired off four questions in a row.

I didn't answer him, instead continuing: "I remember when she first started, you mentioned she was clumsy, nothing like the efficient type you usually preferred. Then you stopped talking about her, and I thought you'd fired her."

"Turns out you didn't fire her. And because of her, I've noticed that for the past six months, your overtime hours have been getting longer, and your business trips more frequent."

Ethan Vance's brows furrowed again.

"Aria, what exactly are you trying to say?"

I smiled. "I'm just stating facts."

His frown deepened, and his tone became impatient: "Aria, I know pregnancy is hard, and your emotions are all over the place. I get that. But you can't be paranoid over a few accidentally sent messages. It's not good for you, and it's not good for the baby."

Baby.

That word was like a needle, piercing straight through my heart.

How long had we been married?

Four years, I think.