Everyone said we weren’t a match.

But Serena, with sheer stubbornness, carved out her own place in the world.

She had said, “Lucas, I want to prove to your father that I am worthy of you.”

On the day she proposed, she booked the entire theater.

Hundreds of performers acted out our story on stage, ending with the question, “Lucas, will you marry me?”

At that time, she had only been running her business for three years, and the proposal nearly emptied all her savings.

I had ached at the thought of such waste.

She had knelt on one knee, holding up the ring.

“Compared to everything you’ve done for me, what is this?”

I slid the ring onto my finger.

After our wedding, I managed her company while taking care of our home.

I reviewed every contract she signed and accompanied her to every important client meeting.

The company had reached its current scale with half her talent and half my effort.

I thought that was the most beautiful form of love—growing from campus romance to wedding vows, building something from nothing, fighting side by side.

But now?

Pasta steamed in the pot as I mechanically stirred the mushrooms.

“Dad, the food’s going to burn.”

Ethan’s voice pulled me back to reality.

I turned off the heat and plated the dishes.

Just then, the door clicked.

Serena had returned.

“It smells amazing.”

“I made your favorite,” I said, turning back to the kitchen to grab utensils.

She followed, naturally taking a plate from my hands.

The instant our fingers touched, I almost pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing… a little hot,” I forced a smile.

The dining table was quiet, filled only with the clatter of forks on plates.

“By the way,” I said casually, “today I took Ethan for his checkup and ran into something strange.”

Serena paused mid-bite. “What happened?”

“The nurse said Ethan needed a kidney donor match test, that you had specifically added the option.”

I looked up at her, smiling gently.

“I was wondering which of our family members might need a kidney. So I asked at the nurse’s station, and guess what?”

Serena swallowed.

“I saw a form—the patient’s name was Noah Vaughn, and the family signature was yours.”

I smiled warmly at her.

“I thought it might be a relative’s child, so I went to the room. There I saw a man named James Carter, saying he was your distant cousin?”

Serena’s expression froze.

“How do you know about them?” Her voice was dry.

“I’m just concerned about you,” I said, offering her another serving.

“Your cousin brings a child here for treatment. Something this big—why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped smooth things with the hospital.”

She visibly relaxed.

“Ah… I just didn’t want to tire you out.”

She looked down at her plate.

“Your schedule with the company is busy enough, and you handle the house too. I thought I could manage distant relatives myself.”

A watertight explanation.

If it weren’t for Noah’s face, I might have actually believed her.

“I see,” I said with a smile, not pressing further.

After dinner, Serena went to the shower. Water gushed steadily.

Her phone lit up again.

I walked over. On the screen was a preview of WhatsApp notifications:

James: [Your husband came today, I’m so scared.

[Will he hurt our child?

[When are you coming to see Noah? He says he misses his Mom.]

The shower was silent.

I stepped back quickly and sank onto the sofa.

Serena came out, drying her hair, and froze when she saw me.

“Not asleep yet?”

“Waiting for you,” I said with a smile.

She glanced at her phone, her expression unreadable, though her fingers moved quickly across the screen.

Before bed, she pressed a kiss to my cheek.

That gesture had once made my heart flutter. Now, it felt hollow.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out—it was a file from Liam.

I opened it.

The first page was a timeline.

Seven years ago, Serena went on her first business trip to Rivershire City.

Six years ago, she spent an entire year on business there.

That same year, Noah was born.

On the birth certificate, the mother’s column was blank, but the emergency contact listed Serena’s phone number.

Four years ago, three years ago, two years ago…

Every year, she made multiple trips to Rivershire.

Each trip left expense records, each one included transfers to James.

Serena and I got married six years ago.

Ethan turned five this year, and Noah six.

While I had thought we were building a future together, she had long since built another family.

The phone vibrated again.

Liam sent another message:

[There’s one more thing, Mr. Drake. The night you had your heart surgery, Ms. Serena was with James for his birthday.]

…

I stared at the words, and the world around me fell silent.

I remembered every detail of that night.

A sudden acute myocarditis had struck me.

The situation was critical, so the doctors scheduled an emergency heart surgery.

As I signed the pre-op forms, my hand trembled so badly I could barely write.

“Where’s my wife?” I asked.

The nurse’s face was full of sympathy. “Mr. Drake, Mrs. Drake had urgent company matters. She’ll be back soon.”

Even as the anesthesia began to take hold on the operating table, I thought—when she arrived, I would give her a piece of my mind.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Serena sitting by my hospital bed, her eyes red, gripping my hand, and apologizing over and over.

“I’m sorry, Lucas… I deserve this… I really deserve this…”

She slapped her own face, the sound sharp and loud.

Even the nurses couldn’t stand it and came over to hold her.

At that moment, my heart softened.

I even comforted her in return.

“It’s okay. I’m fine, aren’t I?”

She said, “I’ll never do it again. I swear, for the rest of my life, I won’t let you face these things alone.”

So that was the truth.

“Dad?”

Ethan’s sleepy voice came from his room.

I snapped back to reality, noticing my hand trembling, almost dropping my phone.

Ethan rubbed his eyes and sat up. “I had a bad dream…”

“It’s okay. Dad’s here.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him into my arms.

His body was soft, and he smelled of baby powder.

This was my precious son, the one I cherished most in the world.

And his mother… wanted to use his health to save another child.

Hatred spiraled like a poisonous vine from the depths of my heart, wrapping tightly around my chest until I could barely breathe.

When I returned to our bedroom, Serena was already asleep.

I climbed into bed and looked at her sleeping face.

My hand moved on its own, rising—and then—

*Smack!*

The crisp sound of a slap exploded in the quiet room.

Serena woke up with a start, covering her face. “What’s wrong?!”

I looked at my hand, then at the rapidly reddening mark on her cheek, and slowly smiled.

“I saw a mosquito on your face… forgot my strength.”

She froze for a few seconds.

Her shock softened into confusion, then finally resigned amusement. “You… how did you get so rough?”

She lay back down and reached out to pull me close.

“Sleep,” she mumbled, and quickly drifted off again.

I watched the night dissolve into dawn with my eyes wide open.

…

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the dining room.

Serena was already dressed and ready.

She sipped coffee while scrolling through her phone, her brow slightly furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, carrying a plate of fried eggs, my tone casual.

“The hospital called,” she said, setting the phone down, her expression serious.

“They said there’s an issue with Ethan’s checkup report. They want him to come in for a follow-up today.”

I knew exactly what it meant, but I forced a tense expression. “What kind of issue? Is it serious?”

“Probably nothing major.”

She walked over and patted my shoulder soothingly.

“It’s likely just a routine recheck. Didn’t your father ask you to attend a meeting at the company? I’ll take Ethan.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry.” She kissed my forehead.

“How could I not care about my son?”

The irony of that sentence cut deep.

I nodded, forcing back a cold laugh.

“All right. Call me if anything happens.”

As she left with Ethan, he turned and waved. “Bye, Dad!”

“Bye, my little one,” I said with a smile.

The moment the door closed, the smile vanished from my face.

I picked up my phone, called my father, and followed Serena out the door.

I held the phone in my hand, the screen showing real-time location—that micro-tracker I had secretly attached to Ethan’s collar last night.

Voices came through the earpiece from inside the car.

“Mom, where are we going?”

“To the hospital. Don’t be scared, Ethan. It’s just a checkup.”

“But what about Dad?”

“Dad is busy. Mom’s here, that’s enough.”

Her voice was so gentle that it made me sick.

Serena carried Ethan into the hospital building.

The surveillance feed showed her handing him over to a doctor in a white coat.

The doctor smiled, patted Ethan’s head, said something, and then led him into the operating room.

The door closed.

I watched Serena walk toward the room where Noah was waiting.

I turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.

The sound of my leather shoes striking the floor echoed down the corridor.

The door to Room 312 was slightly ajar.

I stood outside and could hear them clearly.

“…Don’t be scared. The surgery will start soon.”

“Really, Mom?” Noah’s voice carried hope.

“After the surgery, I won’t be in pain anymore?”

“Yes. You can be like your friends. You can go to school, play at the park…”

“Then…” Noah’s voice dropped. “After the surgery, will you stay with Dad and me forever?

“Will you never go back to that other home?”

I gripped the doorknob until my nails dug into my palm.

“I promise,” Serena said so softly I almost missed it.

“Once you’re well, we’ll be together forever.”

“Then will you still want Ethan?” Noah asked. “Can you only want me?”

“Of course. He’s just your donor—”

I clenched my fist until it went white. Just a donor!

“Ms. Serena,” the doctor interjected. “The donor is ready. The surgery can begin at any moment, if you—”

“Do it now.” Serena didn’t hesitate.

“All right, I’ll notify the OR—”

*Bang!* I kicked the door open.

“The donor you mentioned,” I said slowly, locking eyes with Serena’s suddenly pale face, “that… isn’t my son, is it?”