I was married to Victor Preston for three years. My only wish was to warm his heart and make him fall in love with me.

When I drove to the airport, I encountered a collapsed bridge on the way. I was the only survivor.

When I was lying in the hospital with injuries all over my body and called him, each call ended the same way by the sound, "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

In my moment of greatest need, the man I had been married to for three years had not even reached out to me. Soon, a heavy wave of disappointment settled in my chest, with tears blurring my vision.

I staggered toward the hospital lobby on crutches, and when I saw Victor, my heart nearly stopped. He was carrying a woman tenderly into the obstetrician's office, his face filled with concern for her.

From his comforting words, I learned that the woman was pregnant with his child three months ago.

Three months ago, his itinerary report did show a week-long business trip.

Three years of marriage, and I had never seen this side of him.

That night, I packed my luggage, left the divorce agreement, and left calmly.

Ironically, after my true identity was revealed, Victor ended up begging me not to leave and asking for my forgiveness.

***

That morning, I should go to San Francisco for business trip, but I never imagined my journey would turn into a nightmare.

As I drove to the airport, the bridge that I crossed suddenly collapsed. I instinctively reached for my phone to call my husband, Victor Preston, but he didn’t answer any of my calls. The rest was a blur, and when I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital room.

When the bridge collapsed, I was the only survivor.

The whole nation was shaken by the news; Yet, in my moment of need, the man I had been married to for three years was nowhere to be found. Disappointment washed over me once again, even the bruises and injuries on my body was nothing compared to the ache in my heart at that moment.

After a long time, finally, my phone rang. I grabbed it, my heart racing with hope. But when I saw the caller ID, my heart sank.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice hoarse from the strain.

It was Victor’s mother. Her voice was thick with concern. “Earlene, you scared me to death! Are you alright? Is Victor with you?”

“He’s on a business trip in Los Angeles, Mom,” I replied.

“But I heard you were both on a business trip to San Francisco. Was it just you on the car?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion.

I was just as puzzled. If Victor was indeed in Los Angeles, why hadn’t his family been informed? Why the secrecy?

But I knew my role in the family, covering up for Victor was expected. To prevent her from worrying further, I lied, “We were supposed to go together, but Victor had an urgent matter in Los Angeles, so we took separate cars.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, seemingly grateful that Victor hadn’t been on the doomed disaster.

“Which hospital are you at? I’ll send the butler to bring you home immediately,” she said.

After sharing my location, the call ended.

I knew that recuperating at Preston Manor would be far better than staying in the hospital. Besides, my presence in the Preston family was a secret not meant for public knowledge.

Despite my injuries, I still had work to do. As a Marketing Director, my trip to San Francisco was meant to represent the company and ensure the success of a major partnership. That was why, I needed to report the accident and update the company as soon as possible.

More urgently, I needed to know what Victor was up to. Was he really in Los Angeles, or was it just another lie?

Since it was quite often for him to hide something these days, including his one-month trip three month ago.

I must find him and find out everything!

With no hesitation, I left the ward, hobbling towards the payment counter while calling my assistant, instructing her to report my condition to the company.

As I did, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure sprinting across the lobby. It was Victor, my husband, the CEO of Preston Group.

My husband was rushing toward the obstetrician’s office with a woman in his arms. She was draped in a suit, her legs wrapped in his black coat, visibly bleeding.

He held her with such care, a tenderness that sent a jolt of pain through my heart.

Even when I had my second miscarried a month ago, Victor had never shown this level of concern. When I cried out in agony, there wasn’t a trace of worry or sadness on his face.

“Has he been cheating on me?” I muttered under my breath, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

After completing the hospital’s discharge procedures, I found Victor outside the room, his face clouded with worry. My voice trembled as I confronted him, “Victor, who is she?”

He turned, his expression hardening when he saw me.

“Why are you here? You were supposed to leave for San Francisco today,” he snapped, his eyes darting around nervously.

Before I could answer, he demanded, “Are you following me?”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“Do you think I have nothing better to do? I was treated here and saw you with my own eyes, rushing through the lobby in a panic.” My voice was soft, but each word was sharp and clear.

Victor’s gaze shifted to the crutches supporting me, his tone cold and devoid of the concern he had shown earlier.

“What happened to you?”

I stared at him, feeling a wave of despair. It was clear he was more worried about the woman in the examination room than my shattered state.

“You sent me to San Francisco just to hide your affair with her, didn’t you?” I accused, my voice breaking.

The truth was unavoidable. Clearly, our three years of marriage had been futile.

He even rarely touched me since my first miscarriage two years ago. We indeed shared a room but slept in separate beds.

Victor quickly covered my mouth with his hand, his voice a harsh whisper, “She isn’t a mistress. I’ve known her for over ten years.”

His words hung in the air. I suddenly recalled what his mother had told me shortly after our wedding, about his first love from high school.

So, it must be her.

But when remembering that the woman was sent to the obstetrician, could she be pregnant then?

I looked up at Victor, my voice laced with bitter realization as I asked, “So, you’ve gone back to her?”

Victor remained silent, his eyes shifting, scanning the hallway for onlookers or anyone recording our argument.

“Fine, let’s get divorce. Three years of loving you without ever having it returned is enough. After all, I’ve helped your company grow like I promise, and at least I am the second-largest shareholder now,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. He mocked me, “Don’t fool yourself. When we divorce, everything you have will go back to my family.”

Suddenly, the doctor called his name, and just as he turned to go, Victor leaned in close, his words a cruel whisper, “By the way, I’m a father now. Get our divorce sorted, and I’ll sign it as soon as I get home.”

Then, he walked into the room, leaving me standing there, stunned and alone.

Had he married me only to fulfill some twisted plan?

*

I got into the car that the butler had sent for me, my mind drifting back to the early days, back when everything was so different.

Victor and I first crossed paths at MIT University. He was my senior, someone I admired from a distance, a reliable mentor figure.

But my feelings for him changed during my internship at Preston’s company. By then, Victor had already taken on the role of Vice President while continuing his studies. He was driven, charismatic, and every bit the man who could lead a company.

Months went by, and I kept my feelings for him hidden, unsure if he saw me as anything more than a work colleague.

Then, one day, everything changed. Victor’s parents approached me first.

I remember the moment vividly. The secretary of Victor's father came to my desk and asked, “Are you Earlene, the intern from the Marketing Team?”

“Yes, I am,” I replied, my heart pounding.

I feared I had done something wrong, but I couldn’t think of any mistakes. My work had always been praised; in fact, many higher-ups had hinted at offering me a permanent position after graduation.

The secretary then said, “President Preston requests your presence in his office.”

I was filled with anxiety and curiosity. What could they possibly want with me?

Then, when I stepped into the office, I was surprised to see President Preston, his wife, and Victor all waiting for me.

“Here she is, our future daughter-in-law,” President Preston greeted me with a broad smile.

I froze, confusion written all over my face. ‘Daughter-in-law? What could he possibly mean by that?’ I wondered.

As the conversation unfolded, it became clear. They believed I was the perfect match for their son, a woman who could not only support him but also help build their family’s empire. Victor seemed as surprised as I was, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable.

But Victor’s parents were determined to have me as their daughter-in-law. They saw in me a valuable asset, someone who could help secure the future of the Preston Group.

They didn’t want Victor marrying into another wealthy family after all, because they didn’t want to share their precious shares. They wanted someone like me, an intelligent, hardworking woman who had proven her loyalty to the company.

As a result, we married after I graduated from MIT.

But there were conditions. Until we had a child, our marriage was to be kept under wraps; only a handful of people within the company knew that I was Victor’s wife.

Despite the secrecy, I was happy. I loved Victor, and being his wife was enough for me. I dedicated myself to the company, to him, hoping that, in time, he would come to love me too.

At first, our marriage was awkward. Victor was distant, cold.

However, when I got pregnant, things started to change. He began to show a side of him I hadn’t seen before, a tenderness, a softness. Yet, I always sensed that his newfound affection wasn’t entirely for me.

But then I lost the baby in the fourth month, resulting the little warmth he had shown vanished entirely. He became colder, more distant. His parents expressed their regrets, but Victor’s reaction was muted, almost indifferent.

As a result, I buried myself in work, trying to ignore the pain of his coldness and the emptiness inside me.

However, on our third wedding anniversary, driven by desperation, I decided to take a bold step. I slipped a stimulant into his drink, hoping it would break down the walls between us.

As the effects of the drink began to take hold, Victor's expression darkened. He knew something was off, especially when my hands began to wander across his body.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice tight with anger.

I leaned closer, my lips brushing against his skin.

“I’m just fulfilling my duties as your wife,” I whispered, my voice heavy with longing.

“How dare you!” he growled, his muscles tensing.

But the drink had dulled his resistance, and soon his desire took over. As his breathing grew heavier, he gave in, his hands roaming my body with a hunger I had never felt from him for almost two years.

“Is this what you want?” he said between ragged breaths, his tone a mix of anger and desire.

I nodded.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if I’m rough.”

For a moment, I felt a connection, however forced, as if this was how it was supposed to be.

But as the effects of the stimulant began to wear off an hour later, Victor abruptly pushed me away.

“You’re disgusting, Earlene!” he spat, his voice filled with revulsion.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Is it so disgusting to want my own husband?” I asked, my voice trembling with pain.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes cold and unyielding.

The brief moments of closeness we had shared were nothing more than a cruel illusion, a result of the drug, not any real affection.

“You’re cruel, Victor!” I cried out, my heart shattering.

He quickly gathered his clothes, putting them on hastily. “Have you forgotten how you became Mrs. Preston?” he asked, his tone sharp.

I would never forget. I was chosen for this role, not out of love, but out of a calculated decision to secure an heir and the future of the company. That was why, the harsh reality of my situation was clearer than ever at that moment.

I chuckled softly, the sound bitter, “No, I haven’t forgotten. But your parents want a grandchild too, don’t they?”

My face flushed with anger. If it hadn’t been for the forced smile on my lips, I might have looked like a ghost escaped from hell.

“I can still give them a grandchild, even if it’s not from you,” he said.

Those words haunted me so suddenly. Only then did I understand what he meant back then.

After that night, I indeed was success on getting pregnant. But under Victor’s coldness and my chaos mental health condition, I lost the baby again in my seven weeks pregnancy.

“This can’t go on,” I whispered to myself, my resolve hardening.

Finally, we had arrived at Preston Manor. The butler who had picked me up opened the car door and said, “Mrs. Preston, we’ve arrived. Do you need help getting out?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, my voice firm.

After getting out of the car, I said again, “Thank you for taking care of me all this time.”

Then, I made my way to the elevator and headed to my room. I opened the drawer containing the divorce papers I had prepared a few days after my miscarriage.

Back then, I was hesitant, clinging to the hope that I could win Victor's love back. But then, all of my doubts had vanished. I was done dedicating myself to the Preston family.