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.

Gabriel Romano finally sensed that something was wrong.

I heard his footsteps quicken behind me, felt the tension tighten in the air.

“Grace—wait.”

His voice wavered as he caught up. “Are you upset about last night? I didn’t mean to stay away. The family business exploded all at once, I had to deal with it personally…”

He reached for my arm, panic slipping into his tone.

“Please don’t be mad. Tell me what I can do. Whatever it takes to make you happy—just don’t shut me out. When you look at me like this, it scares me.”

I couldn’t listen to another lie.

I took a breath, forced my expression soft, even playful, and interrupted him.

“If you really want me to forgive you,” I said lightly, “then buy me a beach house. I want it under my name. You’ll need to sign.”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Of course,” he said instantly. “Anything you want. I’ll buy it. Whatever makes you happy.”

My eyes brightened—This was the moment.

I handed him the purchase documents, the divorce agreement discreetly sandwiched between the pages. I leaned close, guiding his hand, coaxing him gently as he signed.

He signed without question.

When he put the pen down and reached to flip through the papers, I quickly gathered them up, laughing.

“What?” I teased. “You’re not backing out because a hundred-million-dollar villa feels too expensive, are you?”

Even half-drunk, Gabriel Romano still possessed the instincts of a man who ruled both boardrooms and bloodlines.

I knew logic wouldn’t fool him.

Only emotion would.

And it worked.

He chuckled, let it go, and pulled me into his arms.

I almost laughed to myself.

I wondered what his expression would look like—when he finally realized the truth.

Later, I placed the signed divorce papers into the pink safe I had custom-made weeks ago.

I planned to leave it behind—wrapped neatly as a “gift.”

When everything was done, I curled up cross-legged beside the sofa where he slept heavily.

I began organizing every photo, every video Ella Reed had ever sent me.

The next morning, my new identity was finalized.

Anna Morgan.

I booked my flight for that night.

Less than an hour later, the front door slammed open.

Gabriel rushed in, his face pale, eyes frantic. Before I could react, he pulled me tightly into his arms.

He buried his face against my neck, his lips brushing my ear as his voice trembled.

“I don’t know why,” he whispered, “but my heart’s been racing all day. It feels like something important is about to disappear from my life. Grace… I missed you so much.”

He held me so tightly I could barely breathe.

I forced myself to push him away.

“You’re overthinking,” I said gently. “You’re just exhausted.”

I gave him the excuse.

He accepted it—but wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he clutched my hand as if letting go would shatter him.

After a long pause, he spoke softly.

“I’ve cleared my schedule. I’m not going into the office today. I’ll stay home with you.”

My heart skipped.

Had he noticed something?

Before I could think it through, he spoke again.

“Grace… don’t push me away, okay?”

“Promise me—you’ll never leave me. Not in this lifetime.”

He looked at me intensely, hope burning in his eyes.

I frowned slightly, unsure how to respond.

I remembered the early days—when we were deeply in love.

He used to ask me the same thing, again and again.

And every time, I reassured him.

As long as you don’t betray me, I will stay.

“Grace,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes, staring straight at me.

“What’s wrong? Why won’t you say anything?”

I lowered my gaze and sighed softly.

“Gabriel Romano,” I said quietly, “my answer hasn’t changed. As long as you don’t betray me, I will love you for the rest of my life.”

He didn’t press further.

Instead, he wrapped me tightly in his arms.

“I swear,” he said, voice low and firm, “I would never do anything to hurt you. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I can’t.”

I almost laughed.

I couldn’t tell if those words were meant for me—or for himself.

Time ticked closer to my departure.

Yet he refused to leave my side.

I asked him to go buy fruit—he called his assistant instead.

I asked him to get porridge—he ordered delivery.

Frustration crept in.

Then his phone rang.

Once.Twice.Three times.

Finally, irritation crossed his face as he answered.

When he hung up, he walked toward me, conflicted.

“Grace… I—”

I looked up at him calmly.

“Go,” I said. “Handle your work. Staying home with me all day will only make you restless.”

Perhaps some instinct warned him.

Before leaving, he lingered—hesitant, repeatedly reminding me:

“Wait for me. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Seeing his reluctance, I stood and walked him to the door.

“Go,” I said softly. “I’ll be here.”

Only then did he drive away.

I watched his car disappear around the corner.

Then I turned back inside.

I placed the divorce agreement and my pregnancy report neatly together in the safe.

And sent him the password.

There’s a gift for you in the safe.

He replied instantly.

Okay, sweetheart. Wait for me. I’ll be home soon.

I didn’t respond.

By the time I boarded the plane, the video I had prepared had already been sent.

I removed the SIM card from my phone, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash.

Without looking back, I boarded the flight to France.

Thirty minutes later, a deafening explosion ripped through the night sky.

The airport loudspeakers crackled to life:

"Attention passengers—an aircraft bound for France has just exploded. All departing flights are delayed until further notice."