So that's how it was.

I remember that day far better than she does.

I had rushed into the emergency room, holding my son, who was struggling to breathe with his face turning purple, gasping to the medical staff that he had a severe peanut allergy.

Realizing I might have unknowingly witnessed the very moment they met, I didn't know whether to feel devastated or disgusted.

A dull ache pulsed in my chest. I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself to maintain a calm and professional expression.

"Ms. Pierce, do you have any other requirements for the mansion?"

Chloe tilted her head and thought for a moment, then suddenly said, "Oh, right. The garage needs to be big enough for my vintage Mustang. It's a one-of-a-kind custom build my boyfriend had made for me. Money is no object; he's a tech mogul."

Hearing this, I almost laughed out loud.

Caleb. The struggling programmer whose career I had single-handedly bankrolled. The boy who once couldn't even scrape together startup capital was now a CEO worth billions. What took others twenty years to achieve, I helped him accomplish in just five, using my family's trust fund.

Perhaps I had made his path too smooth, causing him to forget where he came from, and to forget the person who paved that path for him.

As for that sports car, I remembered it clearly.

It was a weekend afternoon three years ago, in a coffee shop, flipping through a special edition magazine on custom cars. I was captivated by the streamlined body of a vintage Mustang and excitedly sketched out our perfect modification plan with Caleb on a napkin.

That design was a fusion of my eye for aesthetics and his obsession with performance.

I had thought that car would be a symbol of our love.

Now I finally understood. Those design sketches, which carried our shared dreams, were never meant for me from the start.

I closed the folder. "I understand, Ms. Pierce. I promise to give you a mansion that even money can't replace."

After seeing her off with a smile, I called my best friend, who is a lawyer.

"Caleb cheated," I said calmly. "I want him to leave with nothing. When this is over, 10% of his company's shares are yours as legal fees."

...

In less than half an hour, the evidence of Caleb's affair was in my email.

Only three months' worth of material, yet it was nearly 500 gigabytes.

The first video was from the day my son had his allergic reaction. Chloe hadn't told the whole story.

That emergency room visit was no accident. Caleb already knew Chloe would be on the night shift.

The second video was from the time I was staying up late, night after night, revising proposals for the company's IPO.

I thought Caleb was at home with our son, but he was actually on vacation with Chloe on a luxury yacht, enjoying the sun and champagne.

The third video was from the nights he claimed to be working late while I was recovering from childbirth.

The excuses were laughably full of holes.

I had invested in the company; how could I not know if there were projects or not?

But my heart ached seeing his exhausted face after he’d stayed up all night with our feverish son, so I was the one who told him to go out and relax.

I never imagined that my kindness was simply giving Caleb and Chloe the perfect cover for a romantic getaway.

With a trembling hand, I held my phone and clicked on the longest video.

The video began with a piercing cry that filled the room. I recognized it immediately. It was my son, Miles's cry.

My fingers shaking, I fast-forwarded the video.

Chloe's cloying voice came through. "Are you sure about this... this desensitization thing? Is it really okay to try it on him?"

Caleb answered nonchalantly, almost with a smile, "What's there to be afraid of? We have a professional nurse right here. If he can't even overcome this little challenge, how is he going to inherit my business empire in the future?"

In the past, I had always thought Caleb was a good father. From his initial clumsiness to his later skill at changing diapers and preparing formula.

Especially after he started "working overtime," he seemed even more attentive and experienced with the baby.

That's why I felt safe letting him take our son out alone.

I never thought he could be so cruel to his own flesh and blood.

In the video, Caleb forcibly pried open our son's mouth, while Chloe calmly stuffed a spoonful of peanut butter into his tiny mouth.

My son's cries grew weaker, and my heart ached so much I could barely breathe. I wished I could break through the screen and kill that pair with my own hands.

Just then, my phone rang.

I answered, and Chloe's cloyingly sweet and excited voice came through the receiver, "Mrs. Hayes, the housewarming party might be moved up. My future mother-in-law specially chose a date for us. We'll have the party in three days. The timing is perfect; it'll bring us good luck."

Almost simultaneously, Caleb sent me a text.

"Jules, there's a closed-door training session at the company. I might have to leave as early as tomorrow. You and our son be good at home. I'll bring back gifts for you."

I looked at my phone's wallpaper, a picture of my son sleeping peacefully, his face soft and innocent, and I suddenly smiled.

Since my husband's housewarming party was about to be held, how could I, his legal spouse and the chief designer of this mansion, be absent?

...

I flew to Lake Serenity ahead of Caleb.

As soon as I landed and turned on my phone, his message popped up. "Jules, how are you and our son?"

I expressionlessly sent back a photo of myself with our son.

He replied almost instantly, "Our son looks great. Jules, you're beautiful too. I don't even want to go to this training. I just want to come home and be with you two."

I stared at the words, a faint, cold smile playing on my lips.

That photo was from last month. Back then, I wasn't this thin. And my son was much smaller than he is now.

Caleb had taken the photo himself, yet he didn't notice a thing.

...

On the day of the party, I stood in the mansion's smart control room as the chief designer.