Our bodies tangled in the car.

My husband moved inside me, lips claiming my chest, when the sudden ring of a phone ripped me out of our intoxicating haze.

Gabriel answered without hesitation.

It was one of his closest friends from the medical world, speaking in German.

“Don,” the voice said casually, “your mistress is two months pregnant. What are you going to do?”

Gabriel didn’t pause. His tone was calm.

“Grace can’t have children,” he replied. “I’ll let her carry the baby to term, then adopt it as my own. That secures the heir. This stays between us.”

Something inside me froze.

The one thing he had forgotten—

I majored in German.

And he learned it just to win me.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t confront him.

Instead, I smiled, stayed quiet, and kept playing the perfect wife.

Later, I slipped the divorce papers into a real estate contract and watched him sign without reading. Then I quietly registered a new identity.

For the next three days, his absence—and her taunting messages—erased the last illusions I had about love.

When my new identity finally went live, I walked away without looking back.

Carrying his child.

And disappearing from his world forever.

I felt Gabriel’s lips on my chest, strong and possessive, as the world outside the Romano family’s custom Mercedes blurred into nothing.

Stripped bare, I let my long legs fall over his shoulders, the closeness sending shivers through me.

I could feel him pressing inside me, the sensation making my pulse race.

The thrill, the closeness… it made my head spin. His hands gripped my waist as he whispered low and dark:

“Relax… the soundproofing’s in place. No one’s listening. Why are you shy, hmm?”

I clung to him, my heart pounding, love and desire tangled together as waves of pleasure built faster than I could catch my breath. The crescendo hit me, leaving me trembling, unable to hold back a sound.

And then his lips, warm and teasing, pressed against my chest.

When the sudden ring of a phone cut through the haze.

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. He glanced at the screen, then answered. I saw the caller ID: Jack—one of his closest friends from the medical world.

“Gabriel… you’ve lost your mind…”

He cut him off sharply, in perfect German. “Not convenient. Speak in German.”

There was a long, tense silence. Finally, Jack’s voice came, clear and chilling:

“Your mistress two months pregnant. What are you going to do?”

The words hit me like ice. My body went slack, the heat evaporating instantly. Tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them.

Gabriel, completely unbothered, spoke in his usual calm, calculating tone:

“Grace can’t have children. I’ll let Ella Reed carry the baby to term, and then we’ll make it appear as if the child was adopted—someone from an orphanage she’s never met, a stranger. That way, the heir is secured without anyone suspecting a thing.”

“Don’t you think Grace will find out?” the voice pressed.

Gabriel’s lips curved, confident, almost cruel:

“I’ll make sure she never knows. She’ll never suspect a thing.”

“The moment Grace learns the truth, she won’t hesitate—she’ll walk out of your life.”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to me. Even beneath me, I saw the corner of his mouth tilt with certainty.

“She loves me too much to ever leave.”

And with that, he ended the call.

Only then did he notice my tears. Panic flashed across his features as his hands cupped my face.

“Grace… why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head, wiping my cheeks. “I’m just tired… yawning. I’m fine.”

He breathed out, relief softening him, before leaning back to kiss me again.

He caught my gaze, holding it with that infuriating mix of mischief and charm.

“What?” he murmured, voice low and playful. “Admiring how thoughtful—and handsome—your husband is?”

I pulled my blouse back on, smoothing it over my shoulders.

“Yes,” I said. “I just want to see clearly—whether the man who claims to love me has room in his heart for more than one woman.”

He stiffened.

Fear flashed across his eyes—just for a second—before he masked it perfectly.

When he looked at me again, his gaze was deep, affectionate, almost drowning.

“Grace,” he said softly, pouting like a wronged lover, “don’t joke like that. You know I couldn’t survive losing you.”

I smiled and gently withdrew the hand he had pressed against his chest.

So he still remembered.

When I agreed to be with Gabriel Romano, I had only one condition.Loyalty.

I remembered telling him clearly:

“If I ever find out you’ve betrayed me—even emotionally—I won’t forgive you. I’ll disappear. And you’ll never find me again.”

Back then, he had played with my fingers, half-smiling.

“And if I do find you?” he teased. “Would you give me another chance?”

I pulled my hand back and looked at him.

“Don’t joke about this.”

“I mean it,” I said quietly. “If you ever betray me—even once—I’m gone. No second chances.”

That was when he realized I meant every word.

He straightened, raised his hand solemnly, and swore:

“On the name of the Romano family, I swear—Grace Miller is the woman I chased for a year before she agreed to be mine. I will cherish her sincerely and never do anything to hurt her.”

Then he added, half-joking but deadly sincere:

“If I ever break this vow—

may I spend the rest of my life never finding you again.”

His oath struck my soul with terrifying force.

From that moment on, loving Gabriel Romano became something I could no longer control.

Truthfully, because of my looks, I had never lacked admirers. Men had always hovered around me, eager, persistent, sometimes exhausting.

Gabriel was no exception—except that from the very first time he saw me, he made it clear he wouldn’t give up until I was his.

I had been devastated by my first love.

Since then, I kept romance at arm’s length.

Too many boys circled me with the same intent—to conquer, to collect. Their attention made my skin crawl. Over time, resistance turned into aversion.

My friends used to tease me.

“Grace, you’re practically ascetic. What, are you planning to become a nun?”

I would laugh and tease back.

“Honestly? Becoming a nun sounds better than wasting my life on men.”

I said it with conviction—fully prepared to live alone.

And yet, I was the one who broke first.

Because Gabriel Romano was there when I was sick, when everyone else faded into the background.

Because when rejected men spread rumors about me—calling me cold, arrogant, untouchable—he was the one who rolled up his sleeves and confronted them head-on.

Because for me, he chose to learn German—awkward, harsh, unfamiliar—simply because it mattered to me.

My heart, long dormant, began to beat again.

I gave him a chance.

And after we became a couple, he truly kept his word.

He put me first in everything. Never let me feel neglected. Never hurt me—at least, not then.

People admired us.

To them, we were the kind of love story everyone secretly wished for—

from youth to vows, from campus hallways to wedding rings.

I believed it too.

That was why I accepted his proposal. Why I stepped willingly into a marriage I had once sworn I would never enter.

Then, I discovered the truth.

He had been hiding another woman from me.

In that instant, my belief that true love existed collapsed completely.

I thought I would scream. Fight. Demand answers.

Instead, I became calm.

Calm enough to stay by his side.

Calm enough to quietly detach, like easing myself off an addiction.

Calm enough to plan the rest of my life without him.

In three days, my new identity would be finalized.

And then I would leave Gabriel Romano for good—and begin again.

The day after dinner, he leaned drunkenly against my shoulder.

“Grace… let’s go home,” he murmured.

Behind us, Jack called out, amused.

“Gabriel, you’re leaving already? We’ve got another round. Everyone’s waiting.”

Gabriel didn’t even turn around. He stayed pressed against me, voice soft.

“No. My wife needs her medication. I’m taking her home.”

Jack clicked his tongue but didn’t push.

A second later, my phone vibrated twice.

I unlocked it.

It was a message from Ella Reed.

Grace Miller, want to play a game?

Guess—will Gabriel go home with you to make sure you take your meds…

or will he come out with me tonight?

Guess right and there’s a prize~

My gaze lingered on the screen.

When I stopped walking, Gabriel turned to look at me.

“What is it, Grace?”

I locked the phone and looked at him deliberately.

“Nothing. Just spam.”

At that exact moment, a ringtone rang from his pocket.

I looked at the glowing screen through the fabric.

I knew that ringtone.

Ella Reed’s.

He held my hand tightly with one hand while reaching into his pocket with the other, silencing the call.

I gently pushed him away and nodded toward his phone.

“You should answer it. It might be something urgent.”

He straightened, about to say he’d step aside to take it—

but I had already turned and walked toward the car where the driver was waiting.

Through the tinted window, I watched him answer the call.

His eyes lit up instantly.

Clear. Awake.

Not a trace of drunkenness remained.

I looked away, forcing down the ache rising in my chest.

I already knew the answer.

Tonight, Gabriel Romano wouldn’t be coming home with me.

As expected, the moment Gabriel Romano ended the call, my phone buzzed.

A message from Ella Reed.

“Grace Miller, you should know better by now.

The Romano heir is in my womb.

As for the Donna’s position—

you’re only warming the seat for me.”

A single tear slid down my cheek.

Just as Gabriel opened the car door and looked in, I turned my head away quickly.

He sat down beside me, leaning closer.

“Grace, what’s wrong? Are you upset?”

The concern in his voice hurt more than cruelty ever could.

I took a slow breath and lowered my eyes, hiding the tears.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” I said quietly. “Will you come home with me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing my hair, his voice warm and soothing.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You know I’d rather be with you. I just need to take care of something urgent at the office. I’ll be back before you know it. Try not to miss me too much, okay?”

With that, he cupped my face and leaned in to kiss me.

I raised my finger and pressed it gently against his lips, my gaze shifting past him—toward the paparazzi hidden across the street.

“Someone’s recording,” I said calmly.

I pushed him out of the car, locked the doors, and told the driver to leave immediately.

Barely two minutes later, my phone rang again.

Ella Reed.

“Grace Miller,” she said sweetly, maliciously, “don’t you feel disgusted kissing Gabriel? He’s kissed every inch of my body. Every place. Including—”

She didn’t finish the sentence, only letting out a soft, knowing laugh.

My hands shook as I ended the call.

“Pull over,” I told the driver.

The moment the car stopped, I stumbled out, gripping the railing by the roadside, retching violently until my vision blurred.

The driver turned pale and reached for his phone.

“I need to call Mr. Romano—”

“No.” I stopped him.

He hesitated, clearly torn.

“Donna Grace,” he said at last, lowering his voice, “the Boss was very clear. My first responsibility is your safety. If anything goes wrong, I have to notify him immediately.”

So even the driver knew how “deeply devoted” Gabriel Romano was.

How ironic.

I forced a small smile, straightened up, and got back into the car.

“He’s busy. Don’t distract him. I know my own body. I’m fine.”

After confirming repeatedly that I was okay, the driver finally took me home.

When I arrived, an email notification popped up.

Medical Report: Pregnancy—Three Months.

The child I had hoped for, waited for—

arrived at the exact moment my faith in love collapsed.

Tears fell uncontrollably.

I sat on the sofa and waited.

I told myself—if Gabriel came back as promised, I would talk to him.

About Ella.

About the baby.

I didn’t want my child to grow up without a father.

But midnight passed.

And Gabriel never came home.

The last thread of hope went cold.

At six in the morning, the door finally opened.

Gabriel stumbled in, reeking of alcohol—and perfume.

In his hand was a container of oat porridge from the east side of the city.

I recognized it instantly.

He had taken Ella there. She’d tasted two spoonfuls, didn’t like it, and told him to bring it back.

She had even messaged me about it.

I heard this place was special to you and Gabriel?

Doesn’t taste like much.

She was right.

What I loved had never been the porridge itself—

but the sweetness love once added to it.

Now that we were heading for divorce, it tasted like nothing at all.

Gabriel set the porridge in front of me, avoiding my eyes.

“Grace… the meeting ran late. I couldn’t come home earlier. I bought this just for you. Eat it while it’s warm.”

I thanked him politely, picked up the spoon, stirred it once—

and deliberately knocked the bowl over while he turned to pour water.

He rushed back immediately, panic written all over his face.

“Are you hurt? Did it burn you?”

I watched him coldly.

When he looked up and met my eyes, something in him froze.

His fingers curled slowly as he stared at me.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he said hoarsely. “If you were hurt, I’d die of heartbreak. If you want it, I’ll buy it again tomorrow morning.”

I could feel him trembling.

In the past, I would have hugged him.

Told him it didn’t matter.

But now, I simply stood up.

“No need,” I said calmly. “My taste has changed. I don’t like seafood porridge anymore.”

And I don’t like you anymore.

I kept that part to myself.