The day that should have been filled with laughter, pastel balloons, and the answer to whether we were having a son or a daughter ended with my world falling apart.

Instead of celebrating our growing family, I lost our baby.

The worst part wasn't the grief. It was the man standing beside me.

While the nurses rushed to help and my vision blurred from blood loss, my husband looked at me with nothing but disappointment.

"I should've known this would happen," Caleb said, his voice carrying far enough for everyone nearby to hear. "You fail at everything that matters. If you couldn't protect our child, how do you expect anyone to believe you can lead a corporation?"

The words lingered long after I was wheeled away.

Six hours later, I lay alone in a private hospital suite, watching fluorescent lights reflect across the spotless ceiling. Medication had dulled the ache in my body, but my mind refused to rest. The doctors couldn't explain why the pregnancy had ended so suddenly. They simply apologized and told me these things sometimes happened without warning.

I reached toward the call button, hoping to ask for another update, when voices drifted through the partially closed door.

"She'll regain full consciousness soon," Dr. Foster said quietly.

I recognized him instantly. He had overseen every appointment since my first prenatal visit.

"The procedure went well. Physically she'll recover, and there's no lasting damage."

A familiar voice answered.

"That isn't enough."

Caleb.

"You know what we discussed."

A long silence followed.

"I don't like this," Dr. Foster admitted. "She's healthy enough to have children again."

"Not anymore."

Caleb's tone remained calm, almost casual.

"When you speak to her, tell her the complications were irreversible. Make her believe she'll never carry another pregnancy."

Another pause.

"She won't question you. You're her doctor."

"You expect me to lie to my patient?"

"I expect you to remember who's funding your research."

My heartbeat hammered against my ribs.

"If she believes motherhood is impossible," Caleb continued, "she'll lose the only thing she's been holding onto. Once that happens, she'll stop fighting me over the company. She'll hand over control herself."

I squeezed my eyes shut before tears escaped.

Prescott Incorporated wasn't just another business.

It was my parents' dream.

They built it from nothing, sacrificing years of their lives until it became one of the country's most respected companies. After they died in a plane crash, I inherited everything at twenty-two. Every decision I'd made since then had been to protect what they left behind.

Including trusting Caleb.

When we met in college, he worked every spare hour just to afford tuition and meals. I admired his determination. I believed we were building a future together.

Looking back, I realized I had mistaken ambition for love.

To him, I had never been a partner.

I had been an opportunity.

I let my arm fall back onto the mattress and slowed my breathing until it sounded like I was still asleep.

Several minutes later, the door opened.

Dr. Foster entered first.

He delivered his rehearsed speech with practiced sympathy, explaining that the damage from the miscarriage had made another pregnancy impossible. Caleb stood beside him wearing the expression of a devastated husband, reaching for my hand whenever the doctor paused.

I cried because they expected me to.

Not because I believed a single word they said.

I thought nothing could hurt more than hearing my own husband conspire against me.

I was wrong.

The real nightmare began after I returned home.

I had barely stepped through the front entrance when familiar voices floated from the living room.

"Did she believe him?" a woman asked.

Chelsea.

My oldest friend.

She had been there through every milestone of my life—from scraped knees as children to standing beside me on my wedding day after comforting me through my parents' funeral.

Caleb laughed.

"Completely. She accepted every word."

"So she'll finally sign everything over?"

"She won't have much choice. Once she thinks her future is over, the company won't matter anymore."

Chelsea let out a satisfied sigh.

"I've waited long enough. Watching you pretend to love her has been exhausting."

"It won't be much longer," Caleb replied. "Once I control the board, divorcing her will be easy. I'll keep the business, and afterward we can stop hiding."

A soft rustle was followed by unmistakable silence before the sound of their lips meeting.

My stomach twisted.

"One kiss," Chelsea murmured. "She's still at the hospital."

"Not now."

His refusal sounded reluctant rather than sincere.

"She could arrive any minute."

Chelsea laughed under her breath.

"And if she does? What exactly is she capable of?"

Caleb didn't answer immediately.

"We need her signature first."

The room fell quiet.

Then Chelsea spoke again, her voice lower than before.

"Tell me something honestly."

"What?"

"Does any part of you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"The baby."

She let the words hang between them.

"You sacrificed your own child just so we could have one together."

"So what?" Chelsea replied, amusement lacing her voice. "You sacrificed the baby you made with her so we could have one of our own."

Her words seemed to freeze the air around me.

I stood rooted to the hallway floor, one hand pressed tightly over my lips to stop the cry threatening to escape. Every muscle in my body tensed as I silently begged Caleb to tell her she was lying. I waited for outrage, for disbelief, for him to defend our child and call Chelsea insane.

He did neither.

Instead, he chuckled.

The sound was quiet, almost amused, and it sent a wave of ice through my veins.

"Why would I feel guilty?" he said. "Getting rid of that fetus solved a problem."

My legs nearly gave out beneath me. I caught myself against the wall before I hit the floor.

"I never wanted that baby," Caleb went on as calmly as if he were discussing quarterly profits. "Children complicate everything. They create custody issues, emotional baggage, unnecessary attachments. If Natalie bonded with the kid, she'd fight harder to keep the house. That wasn't a risk I was willing to take. It wasn't difficult, anyway. I slipped medication into her breakfast smoothies every morning for a week. Strong enough doses. The miscarriage happened exactly as planned."

The hallway tilted.

My stomach lurched so violently I thought I would be sick.

He had been poisoning me.

Every loving smile across the breakfast table, every kiss on my forehead, every reminder to finish my smoothie because it was "good for the baby" had all been part of the act.

"Our child..."

No.

He had murdered our child.

"If I had my way," Caleb added with an exasperated sigh, "I'd eliminate Natalie too. One unfortunate accident would make life much simpler. Unfortunately, the timing isn't right."

Chelsea sounded curious rather than horrified.

"What's stopping you? She's defenseless right now."

"The trust," Caleb answered impatiently. "If she dies today, everything is locked away until there's a legal heir or the estate eventually passes to charity. Her parents planned for every possibility. But if she's declared mentally unstable first and signs power of attorney over to me, I gain complete control. Before anything else, I need ownership transferred into my hands. She has to be emotionally destroyed before she dies."

"And after that?" Chelsea asked eagerly. "You'll finally marry me?"

Caleb laughed softly.

"Wasn't that always the plan? You've been the only woman I've ever wanted, Care. Natalie was never anything more than a means to an end. I tolerated five years of pretending to be the perfect husband because the payoff was worth it."

Something inside me broke beyond repair.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing back another wave of nausea.

Five years.

Five years of lies.

My mind drifted backward despite myself.

I was only seventeen when I first met Caleb.

A nervous freshman wandering through the university library, still lonely from rarely seeing my parents because they were constantly overseas for business. He accidentally dropped an armful of books near my table, and I knelt to help gather them.

When our eyes met, he smiled and told me I was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

He wore faded clothes and worked multiple part-time jobs just to stay enrolled. I thought his determination was admirable. I convinced myself he loved me for who I was, not for the family fortune attached to my last name.

I remembered cheap dates in public parks because restaurants were beyond his budget.

I remembered defending him whenever friends hinted he wasn't right for me.

I remembered believing we were creating a future together from absolutely nothing.

Then there was Chelsea.

We'd been best friends since high school.

She was more like family than a friend—the sister life had never given me.

When Caleb entered my life, she encouraged the relationship from the very beginning. Whenever people questioned his motives, she insisted they were jealous. On my wedding day, she stood beside me, helping straighten my dress moments before I walked down the aisle.

I had always believed she was protecting my happiness.

Now I understood.

She hadn't stolen my husband after the wedding.

They had been deceiving me together from the very beginning.

I wasn't his wife.

I was his target.

A painful memory surfaced with startling clarity.

It was the final conversation I ever had with my parents before they died.

Three years earlier, just weeks before my wedding, my father had called me into his study while my mother stood quietly near the window.

Neither of them looked happy.

"Natalie," my father began, his expression unusually serious, "your mother and I can't support this marriage."

Anger flared immediately.

"Because Caleb isn't wealthy?" I demanded. "Because he didn't grow up like we did?"

My mother slowly turned toward me.

"Money has nothing to do with it," she said gently. "We hired investigators. His past doesn't add up. He's the kind of man who becomes whatever people want him to be. Beneath that mask, there's nothing except ambition. He doesn't see you as someone to love. He sees you as something to consume."

"That's ridiculous!" I shouted. "You're judging him because he comes from nothing!"

My father struck the desk with his palm.

"Listen carefully. Don't trust that man. If you insist on marrying him, never combine your assets with his. Keep Prescott Incorporated entirely in your name. Promise me."

I never gave him that promise.

Instead, I stormed out.

Two weeks later, the plane carrying my parents disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean.

Everything they owned became mine.

Crushed by grief, I leaned on the only two people I believed still loved me.

Caleb.

Chelsea.

How unbelievably blind I had been.

"I can't wait until I'm finally Mrs. Caleb Kane," Chelsea said with a delighted laugh.

Their laughter echoed through the house and pulled me back to the present.

For one reckless moment, I imagined charging into the room.

I could confront them.

I could scream until the walls shook.

I could grab the nearest knife and make them answer for what they'd done.

But then what?

Caleb had been right about one thing.

I was still recovering.

Weak.

Outnumbered.

A physical fight was exactly what they would expect.

No.

If I wanted to destroy them, I had to beat them where it would hurt the most.

I inhaled slowly, forcing my heartbeat to settle.

Step by careful step, I backed away until I reached the master bedroom.

The tears had stopped.

The moment Caleb confessed to murdering our child, grief had given way to something far colder.

Resolve.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number from memory.

It rang twice.

"Miss Natalie?" Bernard answered.

His rough voice brought an unexpected sense of relief.

For over three decades, he had managed my parents' estate. Though everyone called him our butler, he had always been far more than that. He was the only person I trusted without question.

"Madam," he said, concern replacing his usual composure. "I thought you were still hospitalized. Has something happened?"

"I need Protocol Zero activated immediately."

There was a brief silence.

When Bernard spoke again, his tone had become all business.

"You're aware that will suspend company operations, notify the board, and trigger emergency protection of every major asset."

"I know exactly what it does."

"Very well."

"I want every dollar moved out of our accessible accounts. Transfer the house into the trust. Reassign ownership of every vehicle. Empty every joint account we have. Move everything into the Cayman holding company. If necessary, use your name as temporary custodian. I don't care how it's done. Just make sure Caleb can't touch a single cent."

"You mean Mr. Kane?"

"Yes."

I glanced toward the bedroom door before lowering my voice.

"He must not discover anything until every transfer has been completed."

Bernard paused.

"May I ask why?"

My gaze settled on the framed wedding photograph beside the bed.

Caleb's smiling face stared back at me.

Every inch of it was a lie.

"I'm divorcing my husband," I said quietly.

"And when this is over, he'll leave my life with the same amount he brought into it."

"Absolutely nothing."

"Divorce?" Caleb echoed, his voice dropping into an unsettling calm. "What are you talking about? Who were you on the phone with?"

A surge of panic shot through me.

Had he overheard enough? Did he catch me mentioning the money? The transfers?

I swallowed hard and forced myself to break down instead of freeze.

"You humiliated me," I cried, my voice cracking as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. "At the hospital... in front of everyone. You acted like losing our baby was my fault. You called me incompetent. You told me I wasn't fit to be a mother."

His expression softened instantly as he moved closer.

"Natalie, sweetheart..." he murmured. "I wasn't thinking straight. I was grieving too."

"So your way of grieving was to blame me?"

"I'm sorry." Without hesitation, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of me. Those familiar blue eyes shimmered with carefully restrained tears, the same eyes that had convinced me for years that he loved me. Looking at him now, I recognized the performance for what it was. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I love you. I was devastated and I lashed out. Please don't leave me. Not after everything that's happened. We need each other now more than ever."

I stared down at him.

At first glance, he looked desperate.

But I knew better.

He wasn't afraid of losing me.

He was terrified of losing everything my name and fortune gave him.

"You broke my heart, Caleb," I said quietly.

"I know I did." He took both of my hands and pressed gentle kisses across my knuckles. "Let me make this right. I'll spend every day proving how sorry I am. Please don't throw away our marriage because of one horrible mistake. Let me take care of you."

I lowered my gaze, pretending to consider his plea.

"...All right."

Hope flashed across his face.

"I can't pretend everything is okay," I continued softly, "but I don't want to be by myself tonight."

"You won't be." Relief flooded his features as he stood and wrapped me tightly in his arms. His embrace felt less comforting than possessive. "I'll stay with you. Better yet, let's leave the house for a while. Just the two of us. We'll have dinner somewhere nice and talk through everything."

I rested my head against his chest and gave a small nod.

"...Okay."

He smiled.

"So you forgive me?"

"For now."

The tension visibly drained from his shoulders.

"That's my girl." He brushed a strand of hair away from my face before flashing the charming smile that had once made my heart race. "Go change. I'll book us a table at Le Jardin. I know it's your favorite."

Before turning away, I searched his face.

"Caleb..."

"Yes?"

"Do you really love me?"

He didn't hesitate for even a second.

"More than anyone or anything."

The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly.

I forced myself to smile back.

"Then I'll get ready."

He kissed my forehead with practiced tenderness before leaving the bedroom.

The instant the door clicked shut, every trace of warmth disappeared from my face.

When I came downstairs a short while later, Chelsea was already waiting in the foyer.

The moment she spotted me, she hurried over and wrapped me in an embrace.

"Natalie!" she exclaimed. "Caleb told me what happened. I was so worried about you. Are you holding up okay?"

My body went rigid.

Her perfume surrounded me.

It was the exact fragrance I'd been smelling on Caleb's clothes for months, though I'd never questioned it before.

"I'm managing," I replied, gently easing out of her embrace. "Just exhausted."

She dabbed theatrically at the corner of one eye.

"Try not to be too hard on Caleb," she said softly. "He's devastated too. He loves you so much. Men don't always know how to express grief the right way."

Every instinct inside me screamed to slap her.

Instead, I nodded.

"I know."

"We're going out to dinner to talk."

Then an idea struck me.

A cruel one.

"Actually..." I smiled faintly. "Why don't you come with us?"

She looked genuinely surprised.

"Me? No, Natalie. This should be your night together."

"I'd really like you there," I insisted, taking her hand. "You'll help keep things from getting emotional. Besides, Caleb always enjoys your company."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face before she quickly hid it.

"If you're certain..."

"I am."

"Then I'd be happy to come."

Dinner was nothing more than an elaborate performance.

Caleb sat beside me in a secluded booth, one hand resting possessively on my leg beneath the table.

Across from us, Chelsea quietly sipped her wine while watching every interaction between us.

I gave them exactly what neither of them expected.

I leaned against Caleb's shoulder.

I laughed at every joke he told.

I offered him bites from my dessert.

At one point I even leaned over to kiss his cheek, whispering that I loved him.

Each display of affection chipped away at Chelsea's composure.

Her smile grew tighter.

Her fingers curled harder around the stem of her wineglass.

She couldn't hide the jealousy burning in her eyes.

Eventually she pushed back her chair.

"I'm going to freshen up," she announced.

"I'll come too," I replied immediately.

She glanced at me in surprise before walking toward the ladies' room.

The restroom was empty.

As soon as the door swung shut behind us, Chelsea turned sharply.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "You're making a spectacle of yourself."

I folded my arms.

"How exactly?"

"The constant touching, the flirting..." she scoffed. "You're practically sitting in his lap. It's embarrassing."

I leaned casually against the counter.

"He's my husband. Am I not allowed to show him affection?"

She folded her arms.

"Don't play innocent. Less than an hour ago you were talking about leaving him. Now you're acting like the perfect wife."

"I'm trying to save my marriage."

She laughed bitterly.

"Please. It's obvious."

"I love Caleb."

"He doesn't need this."

"He needs me."

Chelsea's expression darkened.

"He feels sorry for you," she snapped. "That's all."

I stepped closer until only a few inches separated us.

"Is that what you've convinced yourself?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you're jealous."

Her eyes widened.

"Excuse me?"

"You've envied me for years," I said evenly. "The house. My clothes. My life."

She opened her mouth, but I didn't let her interrupt.

"And now you're jealous because I have a husband."

"I'm your best friend!" she shouted. "I'm trying to help you!"

"My best friend?" I let out a quiet laugh.

"No."

"You're a parasite."

Her face drained of color.

"You've lived comfortably because I've always opened my home, my wallet, and my life to you. Honestly, Chelsea, I'm tired of carrying you."

Her eyes filled instantly.

"How can you say that after everything I've done?"

"Everything you've done?" I repeated. "You mean living in my guesthouse without paying rent? Helping yourself to my clothes? Eating my food? Living off my generosity?"

This time her tears were real.

Without another word, she grabbed the door handle and stormed out.

I counted to three, checked my reflection in the mirror, and calmly followed.

Back in the dining room, Chelsea was already collecting her purse while Caleb stood beside the table looking completely bewildered.

"What happened?" he demanded the second he saw me. "Why are you attacking your best friend after everything you've been through today?"

I calmly returned to my seat and lifted my wineglass.

After taking a slow sip, I answered.

"Because I've decided I don't want toxic people in my life anymore."

Caleb frowned.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means she's fired."

The words landed like a bomb.

His face went blank.

"...What?"

"I've tolerated too many mistakes from her at work," I replied. "The public relations department has been a mess for months. I've been considering replacing her for a while. Tonight simply made the decision easier."

"You can't be serious," Caleb protested.

"I've never been more serious."

"But she's practically family."

"No."

I set my glass down with deliberate care.

"She's an employee."

I met Chelsea's tear-filled eyes without a trace of sympathy.

"And as of this moment, she's unemployed."