“Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs. Valdez?” the lawyer asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant. “Divorcing your husband now, of all times? Next week will be your seventh wedding anniversary.” He paused, “What about the business your father left you? It’s still under Johan’s management. Who will handle it if you separate from him? His family… they took care of you after your parents died.”

I drew in a sharp breath, my fingers tightening around the phone. “I know, Attorney. And I’m grateful for that,” I said, forcing calm into my voice even as my chest tightened. “But draft the divorce papers anyway. Five days. By then, I’ll have someone to manage the company and arrange everything.”

“Mrs. Valdez—”

“I will not live with a man who killed our child,” I interrupted, my voice breaking, “just so his mistress’s child would live.”

There was silence on the line, heavy and suffocating. Before the lawyer could say another word, I hung up.

The click echoed through my room, and for a moment, all I could hear was the faint hum of the air conditioner. My knees trembled, my heart thudded painfully, and I sank into my chair, pressing my hands over my face.

Images flashed behind my closed eyes—the laughter, the promises, the warmth that had once filled our home. The illusion of love I had fought so hard to believe in.

Two weeks ago, I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.

Back then, I was glowing with joy, clutching a small pregnancy test in my trembling hands. The faint pink line had changed everything—I was going to be a mother again. After years of grief, after losing our son to kidney failure, I finally had hope.

I remembered standing in front of the mirror, smiling through tears as I whispered, We’re going to be parents again, Johan. Maybe this time, everything will be okay.

I had planned a surprise—dinner, candles, his favorite wine. I wanted to see that smile again, the one that used to make me feel like I was safe. But as fate would have it, my surprise never came to life.

That night, I went to his office. I carried the sonogram photo in my bag, ready to show him. But before I even reached the door, I froze.

“…you’re still keeping Danica even though your son with Ella is already five years old?” a voice said—a man I recognized as one of Johan’s friends. “What if she finds out?”

My blood ran cold.

Johan’s voice came next, low and steady. “She’ll never know. She thinks our son died because there was no kidney donor.”

A pause.

“But the truth?” Johan’s tone hardened. “I gave the kidney to my son with Ella. Danica would’ve never survived the truth. She’s too fragile.”

He continued, voice calm—too calm. “You know it’s common in our family. Even I needed a kidney transplant when I was a child. It’s hereditary. My son with Ella was dying, and I had no choice. I couldn’t risk him, not when he’s my blood… my real heir.”

Those words hit me harder than any blow. My real heir.

I felt my heart shatter as I realized—our son had died, not because there was no donor, not because medicine failed us, but because Johan chose to save someone else’s child. Ella, my best friend.

He continued, his words slicing through me like knives. “Besides, I don’t want a child with her. The only reason I married her was because her father begged me to. He was dying, and he promised me the company if I took care of her. I pitied her. That’s all.”

Pity. That word shattered me. Everything—our vows, our life, our love—had been built on pity and lies.

My fingers clutched the sonogram inside my bag until the paper crumpled. My knees gave way, and I leaned against the wall, biting my lip to stop the scream clawing its way up my throat.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

The next thing I remembered was sitting in my car, staring blankly ahead, my tears blurring the city lights. I didn’t know how long I stayed there—minutes, hours, maybe forever—until I realized I had made my decision.

That was the night I stopped being his wife.

Now, sitting in my room two weeks later, I still felt that same hollow ache. I tried to breathe through it, to steady myself, but the memory clung to me like smoke.

I was wiping my tears when I heard the door open.

“Danica?”

My body stiffened. His voice.

Johan stepped inside, tall and composed as always, his dark hair perfectly styled, the faint scent of his cologne filling the room. To anyone else, he still looked like the perfect husband—successful, calm, devoted. But I could see the monster behind the mask.

“Hey,” he said softly, walking closer. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Nothing.”

He frowned, setting his briefcase down. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come home last night. There was a last-minute meeting at work.”

A lie. I knew exactly where he was—at Ella’s condominium. The woman who had shared secrets, laughter, dreams with me… and my husband’s bed.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I stood up slowly and faced him.

“Here.”

He blinked as I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the desk between us. The metal clinked softly, final, like the closing of a door.

“What is this?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’m drafting the divorce papers,” I said, my voice calm though my hands shook. “Five days, Johan. Let’s part ways then.”

“I’m drafting the divorce papers,” I said, my voice calm though my hands shook. “Five days, Johan. Let’s part ways then.”

Johan blinked, as if I had spoken another language. “What are you saying?” His voice was incredulous, a mocking laugh following. “In five days? That’s our anniversary, Danica. Didn’t we promise to celebrate it like before?”

I laughed, but it came out hollow, bitter. “Like before?” I repeated. “You mean the last five years when you never showed up? When you sent flowers and cards from god-knows-where while you were out celebrating business?”

He froze, his jaw tightening.

I didn’t stop. “I used to tell myself it was business—that you were busy keeping Father’s company afloat. I made excuses for you, for every late night, every unanswered call. I believed in you. But now I know better. You even spend more time with Ella!”

He ran a hand through his hair, his tone rising with irritation. “You’re being ridiculous, Danica. You’re angry, fine, I get it. But don’t bring divorce into this again. I can definitely make it up for it. This is ridiculous. And Ella? You know she’s my secretary. You told me to hire her! So why are you bringing her into this?”

“I should bring her into this,” I snapped. “She’s been in our lives since the beginning. She was supposed to be my best friend, and yet she’s the one you go home to, isn’t she? You’ve been fooling me, both of you.”

Johan laughed under his breath—cold, dismissive. “So that’s what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“No,” I whispered, my heart breaking at the sound of his voice. “I’m done. I don’t love you anymore, Johan. So let’s divorce.”

His laughter grew louder this time, almost cruel. “Divorce me? You’re serious?” He leaned closer, his eyes darkening. “No, you can’t do that. Where would you even go? You’re an orphan, Danica. You don’t have anyone or anything without me. Do you expect me to hand you money after you walk away?”

My hands clenched into fists. “I don’t need your money.”

He snorted, grabbed my hand, and shoved the wedding ring back into my palm. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. Then he pulled a sleek black card from his wallet and dropped it onto the table. “Here—my black card. Buy yourself something nice. That’s better than talking nonsense about divorce.”

I could only laugh, but it came out broken. “You think money fixes everything?”

He stepped back, already looking bored. “I won’t be home later. I have a meeting—”

Before he could finish, the sting of my palm cracked against his cheek. The sound echoed across the room.

For a second, everything froze.

Then his expression shifted, rage replacing shock. His hand shot out—and for the first time, Johan slapped me back. The impact sent me stumbling, my cheek burning with humiliation and pain.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted, his chest heaving.

But before I could even speak, a small voice broke through the tension.

“Bad!”

We both turned. Little John stood by the doorway, clutching a small toy car in his hand. His big brown eyes—Johan’s eyes—were wide with confusion. “Why are you slapping Daddy?”

My stomach twisted. I had always let the child call Johan 'Daddy' because Ella told me his father didn’t want him, as it was from a one-night stand. I pitied him. I loved him in my own quiet way, thinking I was helping a friend’s child heal. But now I realized the cruel truth.

He wasn’t fatherless. He was Johan’s son.

Before I could say anything, Ella’s voice drifted from the hall. “Oh… sorry.”

She appeared beside the boy, her face painted with concern, her tone dripping with practiced sweetness. “Is it a bad time? John wanted to visit. He misses everyone. But… I guess we should go.”

“No,” Johan cut in quickly, brushing past me. “We’re going out. Without her.” He threw a sharp look at me. “How dare you even think of divorce?”

Ella put a delicate hand to her chest. “Danica, why would you do that? Did something happen?”

“Don’t act innocent,” I hissed.

She blinked, feigning confusion. “Did Johan upset you again? Should I scold him for you?”

Her tone made me sick. I used to confide everything in her—every fight, every pain. She knew me better than anyone, or so I thought. And yet she had been smiling in my face while betraying me behind my back.

“Stop pretending you care,” I snapped. “You know the reason I’m doing this.”

Ella tilted her head. “Oh, is this about that guy you told me about?”

“What?” Johan turned sharply. “What guy?”

I froze. “Ella, what the hell—”

Is she using the cheating card even if it’s not true?

“Wait,” he said, glaring at me. “Are you cheating on me?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re accusing me?”

Ella raised her hands innocently. “No, no, she didn’t say anything serious—”

“Shut up!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You traitor! That is not true.”

Johan’s face darkened. He grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me toward our room. “You want a divorce so you can cheat on me? Is that it?”

“Let go of me!” I struggled, but his grip only tightened.

“No,” he growled. “You’re not leaving this house until you come to your senses.”

He shoved me into the room and slammed the door, the lock clicking in place. I heard his footsteps retreating, then the front door closing as they left—Johan, Ella, and their son.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I sank to the floor, my chest heaving, my palms trembling. My reflection in the mirror looked like someone else—someone broken, betrayed, and bleeding on the inside.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I pressed a hand to my stomach. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “But I have to let you go now. Your father doesn’t want you.”

Outside, the sound of their car engine roared to life, fading into the distance. And I was left alone—locked away, clutching my belly, and praying for strength.

“Five days,” I whispered to myself, closing my eyes. “Just five days… and I’ll be free.”

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of soft knocking. My eyes were swollen from crying all night, my throat dry from screaming into the emptiness of the locked room. I didn’t even want to open the door—but then I heard her voice.

“Danica… it’s me.”

Ella.

My whole body stiffened.

The door creaked open, and there she was—my best friend, the woman who had betrayed me in the most unforgivable way. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying, but I didn’t buy it for a second. Without asking, she stepped inside and hugged me tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do it, I swear. You know how things just… got out of hand.”

I froze, my hands still at my sides. “Got out of hand?” I echoed bitterly, pulling back.

“Yes,” she rushed out. “I thought you were just talking about Brendon, that’s all. You told me once you remembered him—your first love. I thought maybe you reconciled, and that’s why you were asking Johan for a divorce.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Seriously?” My voice rose. “That’s your excuse? You thought I was getting a divorce because of Brendon? Not because you’ve been sleeping with my husband for years?”

Her lips parted, pretending to be offended. “Of course not! You’re my best friend, Dani. I would never—”

The sting of my hand connecting with her cheek stopped her words cold.

Her head snapped to the side, her palm flying to her face. “What the—?”

“Do you think I’d be a fool not to know?” My voice trembled with rage and heartbreak. “You’re sleeping with my husband, Ella. And John—your son—is his son, isn’t he?”

For a moment, her face was a portrait of fake innocence. Then it cracked. Her lips curled into a faint, mocking smile, and a quiet laugh escaped her.

“Oh, God,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m so tired of acting.” She met my eyes, her tone dripping with venomous amusement. “Good to know you finally figured it out.”

My stomach twisted, but I stood my ground.

“So what now?” she continued, smirking. “Are you going to leave him?”

I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. “He doesn’t want to divorce me,” I said, each word deliberate. “So you better do something about it.”

Ella tilted her head and chuckled. “Don’t worry. I will. Just make sure you actually go through with it.”

“Fine,” I said, taking off my wedding ring. The gold glinted under the morning light as I held it out to her. “Here. Wear it. Be happy. You’ve already taken everything else.”

She hesitated for a second before taking it, her smirk softening into a mock pout. “Well, thanks, Danica. Thank you for giving me your husbandi,” she murmured as I brushed past her.

I didn’t answer.

As I stepped out of the room, a small voice called from the living room. “Auntie Dani!”

It was John. He was clutching a toy car, his face lighting up the moment he saw me. “Look! Daddy fixed it!”

For a brief second, I froze. I used to adore this boy. I used to hold him, feed him, even read him bedtime stories when Ella was too busy pretending to work. He used to call me “Auntie” with such sweetness that I forgot the pain of losing my own son.

But now, every time I saw his face, all I could see was betrayal.

“I’m busy, John,” I said quietly.

He frowned. “No! Please, Auntie! Look, it can move now!” He pushed the toy toward me eagerly.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “Not now, John.”

But he followed me, tugging at my dress, insisting. “Please, Auntie! Just look!”

Something inside me snapped. My voice broke as I tried to pull away. “I said I’m busy!”

He stumbled, and before I could catch him, he fell to the floor, the toy shattering beside him. His small body shook as he started to cry—loud, heart-wrenching sobs that pierced the silence.

Within seconds, Ella rushed into the room, horror written on her face. “What did you do?!”

“It was an accident,” I said quickly, but she was already cradling her son, glaring at me like I was a monster.

“What’s going on here?” Johan’s voice boomed from the doorway. His gaze darted from me to the crying child, and his expression hardened.

“Seriously, Danica?” he hissed. “This is why you don’t deserve to be a mother. You can’t even take care of a child properly!”

I felt my throat tighten.

“This,” he said, gesturing toward John, “is why we’ll never have another child. I’m giving my heir to him. I’ll adopt him officially. He deserves it more than you ever will.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. My voice came out soft, almost calm. “Okay. Do whatever you want.”

He blinked, thrown off by my indifference. “That’s it? You don’t care?” His voice dropped. “Is it true then? Are you seeing another man?”

“What?” I whispered, incredulous.

He turned to Ella. “She said something about a guy. Who is it?”

Ella raised her hands again, feigning innocence. “Johan, enough. Please don’t hurt her. She’s my best friend, remember?”

He looked between us, jaw tight, then sighed. “Be thankful Ella’s kind, Danica. Now apologize to John.”

I clenched my fists, but I couldn’t bear another fight. I knelt down, my voice trembling. “I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sniffled, nodding. “It’s okay, Auntie. We can play later?”

“Sure,” I said softly. “We’ll play later.”

But I knew there would be no later.

As soon as I got to my room, I locked the door and sank onto the bed. My mind was spinning, my heart breaking all over again.

Brendon.

The name echoed in my head. The man I’d once loved. The one I’d left behind for Johan—because my father had begged me to marry into a powerful family that could “protect” me.

Maybe Ella’s gossip about him wasn’t so wrong after all. Maybe I could use it to my advantage.

My hands trembled as I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts. My heart raced when I saw his name—Brendon Castillo.

I hesitated for a moment, then pressed call.

The line rang once. Twice. Then—

“Hello?” His voice was deep, familiar, and gentle.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “Danica.”

There was a pause. “Danica?” He sounded stunned. “After all these years…”

I took a shaky breath. “Are you still a bachelor?”

He laughed softly, surprised. “I… yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” I said. My voice wavered, but I steadied it. “Because I need to ask you something important.”

“What is it?”

I closed my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. “Do you want to marry me?”