My wife's childhood best friend returned from overseas with a child. To protect his reputation and secure the boy's future, she told everyone that she was the child's mother.

And my child? She claimed that my daughter was the bastard I had brought home after fooling around behind her back.

When I finally broke down and demanded an explanation, she remained as calm as ever.

"Bryan has always had it hard at home," she said. "And his son cannot grow up without a mother. I have to help them."

That day, I looked at the woman I had loved for seven years and decided that I would never love her again.

When I learned that Gwyneth Sullivan planned to take Bryan Thatcher on a trip three days later to help sell the lie that his child was really her firstborn, I called my mother-in-law, Hilda Brunt.

"Mrs. Sullivan, I want a divorce."

Hilda let out a long sigh on the other end of the line. "Oh, dear child, it was Gwen who wronged you."

Ever since Gwyneth told everyone that our child, Prudence, was some bastard I had brought home after fooling around outside, a child I had forced her to raise, we had fought more fiercely than at any other time in our seven-year marriage.

When she realized I intended to take our daughter and leave, she had people lock me inside the villa.

Even when I took Prudence out for a checkup, a dozen bodyguards followed me every step of the way.

"She is our child," she had said. "I can't abandon her."

So she knew. She knew Prudence was her child. Yet with one careless sentence, she had nearly destroyed both our lives, even though she knew perfectly well that our daughter was her biological child.

Bryan's son, Sam, was the one whose mother no one knew.

I brushed my fingers over my daughter's sleeping cheek and realized this was my last chance. The thought that she might grow up without a mother's love hurt deeply. Yet I could not bear the idea that she would carry the stain of someone else's sin from the moment she was born.

Perhaps she felt the warmth of my hand. She shifted in her sleep and smiled, as if she understood how broken I felt, as if she were trying to comfort me.

Tears fell at once. I pulled my hand back and stepped out onto the balcony for air. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Forgive your father for being cruel."

I had barely steadied myself when the villa door opened.

Gwyneth walked over and stopped in front of me. She glanced at my red eyes and said in the same flat voice, "Don't be like this in front of Prudence. Try to be happy."

It was easy for her to say. If I could control my feelings, I would never have fallen for the woman standing in front of me.

I had always known she kept a place for Bryan in her heart. I had always known that what she felt for me was not real love. The person I had loved most was the one who had wounded me most deeply.

"You've done so much to hurt me. You trapped me here. You took away my freedom." I looked at her. "What, I don't even have the right to feel devastated?"

She only stood there, guilt flickering across her face, but no words came.

Just like a few months earlier, not long after she gave birth…

I took Prudence for her shots that day. At the clinic, I ran into Gwyneth while she was there with Bryan's child.

She was gentle and attentive with Sam. She acted as if she feared he might be bumped or scratched.

"Gwen, look at our baby. He really takes after you."

A soft glow spread across Gwyneth's face. She let Bryan hold her hand, then allowed him to guide it to the child's little head.

The next moment, she looked up and saw me standing at the corner. She did not explain. She simply froze.

What a happy family of three.

If I had not been Gwyneth's husband, I might have said it out loud. I might even have envied them.

But I could not say it, and she did not deserve to hear it.

…

The woman standing in front of me remained silent for a moment, as if she had only just remembered something.

"It's your birthday tomorrow. I'll throw you a party," Gwyneth added, almost as an afterthought.

Then she continued, "Oh, right. Mom told me she is coming back to the country to help take care of the child. With her here, I'll feel much more at ease."

Of course she would. She could relax and travel abroad with Bryan and stay away for months without worrying about anything here.

She did not know why her parents, who had quietly enjoyed their retirement overseas, suddenly decided to return. She also did not know that her parents already knew about everything she had done to me, things so vile that even animals would not do them.

I let out a cold laugh but did not object. I was the one who had asked her mother to come back. I understood one thing clearly. The man I had become had no chance of escaping Gwyneth's grasp on his own.

When she saw no reaction from me, she crouched in front of me. Her gaze softened as she looked at me. "Nick, I do love you. Once Bryan's situation is settled, I'll come back to you."

Those words meant nothing to me now, even if she believed them at this moment. Bryan needed to say only a single word, and she would erase every promise she had ever made to me.

I would never believe her again.

In three more days, she would finally be free of me. Then she could focus entirely on being the mother of Bryan's child.

…

That night, Gwyneth did not come home. Bryan said Sam had caught a cold, and she immediately found an excuse to stay with them.

We had dated for four years and stayed married for three. I had always believed Gwyneth loved me. Then Bryan returned. Then I saw the care she showed another man's child.

Everything seemed to change overnight. The wife who once claimed to love me devoted herself completely to another man.

I remained trapped in this dark cage. Each day wore away the love I once felt for her. Disappointment piled up until nothing remained.

It was time for me to leave.

…

The next day, before the birthday party, Gwyneth called and said she would come back to pick me up.

When I stepped outside, however, only the bodyguards' car waited at the gate.

"Nick, something came up on my side," she said over the phone. "You go ahead. I'll be there soon."

I did not expect anything from her. Without hope, there was nothing left to disappoint me.

The deep winter wind cut across my face like a blade. I felt no pain, just as I felt nothing for Gwyneth.

Disappointment led to despair, and despair left nothing behind that could hurt me.

The car stopped in front of a private club. I frowned but stepped out anyway.

A bodyguard led me into a private room. Several people sat inside. I did not recognize any of them.

They looked at me with strange expressions. Mockery and contempt filled their eyes. They treated me like trash and even moved their chairs farther away.

"He cheated on Gwen and still has the nerve to let her throw him a birthday party."

"Gwen is really pitiful. She's even raising the bastard he brought home."

"I don't know what she ever saw in him. He can't even compare to Bryan."

They did not lower their voices. They wanted me to hear every word.

This was Gwyneth's masterpiece. She could not bear the thought of Bryan's son growing up without a mother. Yet she never once considered the damage Bryan had done to me and my child.

What we suffered was a hundred times worse. I could endure it. But I could not bear the thought of my child being cursed and pointed at like this.

I stood and decided to leave. This birthday party clearly did not welcome me.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Gwyneth and Bryan standing outside.

One avoided my gaze with guilt. The other smiled as if he had just won.

I knew they had heard everything. They had stood outside the door the whole time. They heard every laugh and insult thrown at me.

But Gwyneth said nothing. She simply let Bryan pull me back into the room.

"So the birthday star got here early," Bryan said with a smile. "My fault. I couldn't leave until the nanny got Sam to sleep."

He slipped an arm around Gwyneth and glanced at me. "Gwen insisted on picking me up. She said a taxi would be uncomfortable."

His smile carried a quiet triumph, as if to say, "You might be her husband, but what does that matter?"

The room erupted in teasing.

"Since we were kids, Gwen has always spoiled Bryan the most."

"Once your child grows a little older, does that mean wedding bells are coming?"

"Don't forget to invite us to the wedding."

Amid the laughter and congratulations, they seemed to forget one thing. I was still Gwyneth's husband. And this was not an engagement party. It was supposed to be a birthday dinner she arranged out of guilt for me.

Their smug faces turned my stomach. Nausea rolled through me. I stood to leave, barely holding back a gag, but Gwyneth noticed.

She frowned at me. "This is your birthday party. What will it look like if you leave? It's just a stomachache. Bear with it."

The moment she finished speaking, Bryan coughed softly. Her attention snapped to him at once.

She helped him sit down, poured him a glass of warm water, and blew gently across the surface before bringing it to his lips. "Careful. It's still hot."

More teasing erupted around the table.

I closed my eyes. My birthday dinner had turned into a stage for them to display their affection. They chatted and laughed with their mutual friends like a real couple while I sat forgotten in the corner.

They had not even prepared a cake. The situation felt absurd and ridiculous, and this was the birthday party Gwyneth had prepared for me.

I swallowed every trace of anger and humiliation.

"Congratulations, Gwyneth Sullivan. In two days, I will be gone. Your husband's place will finally belong to the man you actually care about," I muttered.

…

That night, I did not leave. I stayed in the corner alone and watched the entire farce play out until the end.

Only after the gathering finally broke up did Gwyneth notice me.

"I'll take you home," she said.

She was my wife, yet the way she said it made the house we shared sound like a place that did not belong to her at all.

But before we could leave, Bryan walked over and slipped his arm through hers. "Gwen, I'm tired. I want to go back and rest."

Gwyneth pinched his cheek gently, her voice full of concern. "Did you stay up again taking care of Sam last night? Then we should go home first."

She walked out with Bryan.

I climbed into the bodyguards' car alone, feeling like a clown.

I touched my cheek. I expected tears, but none came. Perhaps when the pain grew deep enough, one simply stopped feeling it.

I could not understand it. If she cared so much about her childhood sweetheart, why did she marry me? Why did she have a child with me?

If she wanted the whole world to see how much she adored Bryan, why not divorce me? Why insist on keeping me and my child here, letting us endure their curses and mockery?

…

Sleep did not come easily that night.

The next morning, the doorbell woke me.

When I opened the door, Bryan stood there with his parents.

The moment Bryan's mother saw me, she let out a cold, mocking laugh.