When I send the family car to the body shop for maintenance, an employee discovers a cat pregnancy guidebook wedged in the slot between the front passenger seat and the door.

The cat's name is Rose. The signature shown on the furparent's slot belongs to my husband.

"Christian Johannson, furdad of Rose."

I'm stunned, to say the least. We don't keep cats at home.

Coincidentally, Christian calls me on the phone. I ask him, "There's a guidebook in the car. When did you keep a cat?"

He chuckles lightly in response.

"There was a pregnant stray lingering around the company. I found it pitiful, so I brought it to the vet. It had already given birth last month. Now, it and its babies are the apple of the whole company's eye."

With a smile, I praise Christian for being a kind-hearted soul. After ending the phone call, however, I begin reading the guidebook meticulously.

Rose is apparently a short-haired cat. She's now two years old.

As for the cats living in Christian's company, I've seen them in his colleague's social media posts before. All of them are tabby cats.

After closing the guidebook, I take down the vet clinic's name. Then, I drive over to that location.

I arrived at the best—and most expensive—veterinary clinic in the city.

I handed over the cat pregnancy guidebook and said, "My younger brother told me to come and confirm Rose's due date."

The staff pulled up Rose's file. The two names on the owner's column were Christian Johannson and Vicky Scott.

Vicky had low education, a timid personality, and came from a poor background. Last year, I made an exception and hired her as an intern in the logistics department out of sympathy.

Now, it seemed that this intern had long since become a permanent employee.

My throat tightened. Clutching the cat pregnancy guidebook, I headed straight to the company. I hadn't been here in a long time, ever since I stayed home to care for our twin daughters.

But Christian wasn't in his office.

His assistant, Simon Grande, followed behind me and said that Christian was in a meeting, yet he kept sneaking glances at the office next door.

That office belonged to me. It had been left unused ever since I became a full-time housewife.

My eyelid twitched in suspicion. I shoved Simon aside and kicked the door open.

"You're back, Christian!" the woman on the bed called out, eyes crinkling as she smiled. When she saw me, she froze before quickly diving under the covers.

I stood there, stunned.

The once austere vice president's office was now furnished with a bed and a vanity. The walls had been repainted, lace curtains hung by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and pink furniture filled the room.

It had now turned into a cozy woman's bedroom.

Christian had gone behind my back and kept a room for Vicky right next to his office.

"Ms. Ziegler… Mr. Johannson… is still in a meeting. Maybe you should…" Behind me, Simon dared not lift his head.

My gaze landed on Vicky, who was trembling beneath the covers. My eyes widened when I saw the bulge beneath the blanket. It was her stomach.

"How far along?" I asked.

Vicky curled up even tighter.

I walked over and yanked the blanket away. Staring right at her, I asked, "I'm asking you a question. How far along are you?"

"I… I—" Tears slid down Vicky's cheeks. She broke down sobbing within seconds. "I'm sorry, Ms. Ziegler—"

"You're scaring her, Juliet!" A figure rushed past me and shoved me aside angrily.

By the time I came back to my senses, Christian was already holding Vicky, gently patting her back. "Don't be afraid, I'm here. I'll protect you."

The contrast was unbearable.

Earlier this morning, Christian had nuzzled my cheek before leaving the house, telling me how hard I'd worked caring for our daughters. He'd even promised to take us all to Dreamyland in a few days.

Now, he was holding another woman in his hands, carefully avoiding her swollen belly as he gently coaxed and promised to protect her.

A crushing sense of despair flooded me. My vision swam, and I tried to lean back for support when I knocked into a picture frame.

Inside, there were nine photos arranged in a grid. Every one of them was a maternity portrait against a bright red backdrop.

Some were solo shots of Vicky, and some were photos of her holding Rose.

At the very center was a photo of Christian getting down on one knee before her. Both of his hands were cradling her pregnant belly as he looked up to her with a tender gaze.

That was clearly love.

I coldly looked at Christian. "What's going on, Christian? You got another woman pregnant, and now you're openly letting her stay in my office?"

Frightened, Vicky went pale as she clutched her stomach. "It hurts, Christian…"

"What's wrong, Vicky? Hurry, call an ambulance!" Panicked, Christian immediately carried her while shouting at Simon.

It was as if I didn't exist at all. His eyes never left Vicky, no matter how hysterical I became.

Unable to take it anymore, I grabbed Christian's arm with all my strength. "You're not going anywhere until you give me an explanation."

Christian shook my hand off roughly, yet he was careful not to hurt Vicky.

"What's there to explain?" he asked. "Isn't it obvious enough? With how timid Vicky was, it took everything I had to keep her pregnancy stable for the past several months. If something happens to the baby because of you, I won't let you get away with it!"

With that, Christian carried Vicky and rushed out of their so-called "home", leaving me behind on my own.

Beneath my feet was a soft, cutesy rug. On the bed lay custom-made silk sheets, and a mistless humidifier sat by the headboard.

The office had been fitted with a constant temperature and humidity system, and all the furniture had rounded edges. There was even an entire wall stocked with high-end maternity and baby supplies.

It really took everything Christian had to hide everything from me and continue playing the role of a devoted husband and father. But at the same time, he was carefully tending to a timid pregnant woman, even ordering everyone in the office to keep their mouths shut.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed that photo frame and smashed it into pieces.

…

It was already dark by the time I returned home. Maria Embers, our nanny, had settled both my daughters to sleep.

I gently caressed their cheeks. The cold sweat and anger ebbed away, and my heart gradually slowed down.

These were the twins I gave birth to after countless hormone injections and three rounds of IVF.

Christian had gone into the delivery room with me five years ago. At first, he'd cracked jokes to help me relax. But eventually, he cried even harder than I did.

He said, "Two girls… Our daughters might have to give birth someday too. No way… We're done having children, Juliet. Our daughters won't have children either."

Back then, I truly believed I had found the perfect partner. For the next five years, Christian's love for me never wavered.

But every illusion of that love was shattered today.

My poor daughters didn't even know that their father was about to have another child.

Suddenly, I remembered the gold bracelet on Vicky's wrist. Wasn't that part of the family heirlooms I'd been setting aside for my daughters ever since they were born?

My heart started racing.

I ran to the study and opened the safe, only to realize the box containing the family heirlooms was gone. There had been two full sets of gold, silver, and emerald jewelry, as well as 20 gold bars inside.

My heart sank. I grabbed my phone and called a friend. "Help me track down someone's address. I need it now!"

…

Half an hour later, I drove out to a secluded mountain villa in the suburbs.

A familiar face came to the door. It was Eileen Greene. She was the nanny who had taken care of my daughters and me since my pregnancy.

As my daughters had grown attached to her, I'd paid her generously, planning to keep her around until they grew up.

But last year, Eileen resigned, saying her son was getting married. It turned out Christian had brought her over to take care of his next child, who was about to be born.

"Ms. Ziegler…" Eileen stammered.

My expression fell. I pushed past her and walked straight in.

In the room closest to the door, the pregnant short-haired cat was stretching lazily.

The room was twice the size of my office. It was filled wall to wall with cat supplies. Clearly, it had been custom-built for it.

I continued to walk in.

Soon, I heard Christian's gentle murmur, "It's okay. Didn't the doctor say the baby's healthy? We can replace everything she smashed. It's just a photo frame. I'll have the studio redo it for you."

Through a crack in the door, I saw Vicky curled in his arms, her finger tracing circles over his Adam's apple. "But I'm really scared she'll come after me again. She won't accept me—"

Christian chuckled softly. "What are you afraid of? Since when have I ever let you suffer?"

I dug my nails deep into my palm and coldly said, "Return the family heirlooms I set aside for our daughters, Christian."

Vicky's eyes widened as she screamed and buried her face in his chest.

The tenderness on Christian's face morphed into irritation. He pulled her behind him, grabbed a bottle of cosmetics from the vanity, and hurled it at me.

"What are you doing here? Vicky is almost due. Can't whatever you want to say wait until after she gives birth?"

He'd only ever lost his temper with me twice in the past ten years we were together. Both times happened today because of Vicky, and he'd even turned violent this time.

The bottle struck my forehead, and the pain left me dizzy. "I'll say it one last time. Return my daughters' family heirlooms. If not, I'm calling the police."

Christian frowned when he saw blood trickling from my forehead. Before he could say anything, Vicky clutched her swollen belly and dropped to her knees.

She was frantically ripping off the bracelet and necklace. "I'll return them all to you, Ms. Ziegler! I'm sorry! I have no shame. You can hit or scold me, but my baby is innocent. Please, spare my child."

Christian hurriedly helped Vicky up, his heart breaking at the sight. "Why would you talk about yourself like that? What if the baby hears you?"

Christian's gaze was cold when he looked up at me. "Juliet, since you already found out, I won't bother hiding it anymore. Vicky is carrying a son—my son.

"Your two daughters are useless. They don't need any family heirlooms either. I gave that entire box to Vicky. But you don't need to make a fuss out of it. She doesn't want a title. As long as you don't go after her or my son, you'll always remain Mrs. Johannson."

Christian's son. My daughters. It turned out the children's genders mattered so much to him.

He no longer loved me, nor did he love our daughters. So what use was he to me then?

I stepped forward, picked up the broken emerald bracelet, and said coldly, "No need. I'll gladly step aside for the mother of your son. We're getting divorced, Christian."

Then, under Vicky's horrified gaze, I dialled 911. "Hello, I'd like to report intentional destruction of private property. I have both the suspect and the evidence with me. Please send officers over as soon as possible."

The police arrived at the villa quickly. They collected evidence, interrogated everyone, and took statements.

The entire farce ended with Christian paying full compensation, then swaggering away with Vicky at his side.

The sky was already bright by the time I returned home. As I stared at the empty safe, I recalled Christian's earlier words.

He'd said, "Can you really bring yourself to divorce me? Back then, you were willing to give up an arranged marriage into a wealthy family, even cutting ties with your parents, just to marry me. If you divorce me now, you'll become the laughingstock of the Ziegler family."

Christian wasn't wrong.

He was just a poor nobody when we got married. Meanwhile, the Ziegler family spearheaded the cosmetics industry.

I fought bitterly with my family for Christian, but now I'd be divorcing him over his infidelity. I'd turn into the subject of ridicule among the Zieglers if they were to find out about it.

But he seemed to have forgotten how I never cared about anyone else's opinion when I chose him back then.

I was still the same person, but Christian had changed.

…

While I was going over divorce paperwork with my lawyer, Annie Hilton, I noticed Vicky had updated her social media.

On her wrist were two gold bracelets, and she was smiling brightly. Her caption read, "Don't be afraid, baby. Daddy's a knight who'll protect us."

Christian's reply came under her post. "From now on, our son and I will protect you. We'll buy you even more gold in the future."

When I first hired Vicky, she'd hidden her social media posts from me. But she'd gotten bold under Christian's protection, and now she was flaunting her happiness in front of me.

I took a screenshot and sent it to Annie. Seconds later, she sent me a share transfer document in return. I was surprised when I read it.

Christian held 70% of the shares of the cosmetics company built entirely on my resources and patented formulas.

And he'd transferred all of them to Vicky seven months ago, making her the company's major shareholder.

My heart lurched. I immediately opened her social media and started scrolling backward. All of her posts from the past year had been made public, as if deliberately waiting for me to see them.

"Christian gave me the company as a gift. He said he'd run it for me, but I have everything I need with him by my side. What do I need a company for?"

"Rose is pregnant too! Christian said it's double happiness, so he transferred all his properties to me. He even told me his daughters' apartments could be used to house Rose's babies."

"Rose is the happiest cat in the world. She has four kittens in her belly, and each one gets its own luxury apartment!"

I began to recall my memories.

Christian had asked for the property deeds a month ago. He said he was interested in two neighboring villas and wanted to trade in the four apartments under our daughters' names.

I'd offered to go see them with him, but he made various excuses to put me off.

It turned out that the apartments had been given to the four kittens in Rose's belly. The company and all the properties under our names had become Vicky's gifts, while the family heirlooms I'd saved for my daughters had turned into her jewelry.

Christian gave her everything and left me and my daughters with nothing.

My phone rang.

Before Annie could even speak, I said through clenched teeth, "Start collecting evidence. We're suing him for malicious transfer of marital assets. Also, revoke every cosmetics patent I authorized. Leave him with nothing!"