To squeeze an extra share of the property buyout money, Murray Hughes and I got a sham divorce.

The night the funds hit the account, I cooked a whole table of dishes he and our son loved.

I wanted to talk to Murray about remarrying, and while I was at it, tell him I'd finally found my brother who'd been separated from me years ago.

He and our son came home late. I picked up the cold plates to reheat them, but he stopped me：“Don't bother. We already ate.”

Our son curled his lip in disgust：“I'm so sick of this stuff. My new mom's pasta is way better.”

My knuckles went white around the plate. I stared at Murray, stunned.

He said it like he was reading the weather：“I married Mr. Simmons's daughter.”

“You know how badly I've wanted that general manager position. This was the fastest way.”

My lips were shaking when I managed to speak：“Then what about me?”

He ruffled our son's hair as if the answer were obvious：

“You'll always be his birth mother. Nothing changes that.”

“I'll still come visit you, but you can't tell anyone.”

“Iris Simmons wouldn't like it.”

——

It felt like someone had cracked a bat across the back of my skull. My heart seized, and the shock left everything muffled and dim.

I gripped the edge of the table, sank into the chair in a daze, his words looping over and over in my head：

“I got married.”

It took a long time before my brain started working again. I lifted my head, looked at Murray, and forced the words out through the trembling：

“When……when did you two get married?”

He pressed his lips together, crouched down in front of me, and looked up with dark, unreadable eyes：

“Eva Cox, I don't have feelings for her. I just want that position. You know how much you mean to me. How can you not see that?”

I shoved his hand away and repeated myself：“When did you marry her?”

Maybe the look in my eyes was too relentless. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally dropped his gaze and answered quietly：

“The day after our divorce.”

The day after our divorce?

So the divorce was never about the buyout money. He just couldn't wait to marry another woman.

“Eva, I promise you, once I've secured the position, I'll divorce her right away. And then……”

“Smack.” My hand cracked across his face. I stared at him with bloodshot eyes and snarled：

“You're still lying to me! Even now!”

“Do I look like a fool to you? Murray Hughes.” His name choked out of me like something broken.

I sucked in a breath, and even the air clawing into my lungs hurt.

I clenched my fists and forced myself to steady, forced myself not to fall apart in front of the man who'd betrayed me.

“This was a setup from the very beginning, wasn't it? All of it, just for me.” I tried to keep my voice level, but every word came out shaking.

Murray stood there with my handprint blazing across his cheek, fished a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.

Through the curling smoke I couldn't make out his expression. All I had was his voice, low and flat：

“Eva, there's no need to get so worked up. The way I see it, you haven't really lost anything.”

“You're still his mother. You're still living in the penthouse. And there's a nice chunk of buyout money sitting in your bank account.”

“All you lost is a title. How is that a bad deal for you?”

I looked up at him, unable to believe those words had just come out of the mouth of the man I'd loved for ten years.

The tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.

They rolled down my cheeks, fat and hot. I had so much fury, so many accusations I wanted to hurl at him, but the moment I met his eyes and found not a single trace of guilt, every last word jammed in my throat and died there.

Those words sat in my chest like a wad of wet cotton, suffocating and heavy.

I wiped the tears from my face and pointed at the door.：“Get out!”

“If we're divorced, then get out of my house! My son stays with me. Get out!”

The hand holding his cigarette dropped to his side, and something like guilt crept across his face.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Karl came running over from the couch where he'd been playing with his toys, his little feet pattering against the floor.

He threw himself at Murray's leg and clung tight, his small face set hard, glaring at me like I was the enemy：

“I don't want to stay with you. I want to be with Daddy and my new mommy.”

I stared at this child I had carried for nine months, the child they'd cut me open three layers deep to deliver, and felt something tear wide open inside my chest.

Cold wind howled through the gap, straight through my body.

My own son, my own flesh and blood, had sided with his father against me.

It could only have been a few seconds, but it stretched longer than a century.

“Then you get out too. Go with your father. Get out of my house.” The words ripped from my throat, raw and hoarse, my eyes burning red.

Murray stubbed out his cigarette, reached over, and closed his fingers around my wrist. The look in his eyes was complicated.

He turned to Karl, his voice sharp with reproach：“Karl, you can't talk to your mother like that! Apologize to her right now!”

Karl pressed his lips together and stared at me without saying a word.

“Eva, just give me some time, okay? You're the only one I love. We have ten years together.”

He softened his voice and tried to pull me into his arms.

The next second, a distinct ringtone cut through the air. He glanced at the caller ID on the screen and picked up without a moment's hesitation.

Iris's coy, wheedling voice floated through from the other end.

“Honey, I just saw a bracelet online. It's so pretty.”

Murray let out a low chuckle, his tone dripping with indulgence：“I'm heading home with Karl soon. We'll swing by the mall and I'll grab it for you.”

Iris：“Thanks, honey.”

Murray pocketed his phone and looked at me：“I……Karl and I will come see you another time.”

The man who had just sworn I was the only one he loved took Karl by the hand and walked toward the door. Karl turned back and stuck his tongue out at me.

The door slammed shut with a ‘bang’ and something inside me broke loose. I crumpled to the floor, sobbing into the cold tile.

But no matter how broken I felt, life didn't stop. The next morning I dragged myself to work, my eyes still swollen and red.

Murray and Iris were standing side by side in the office, holding bags of wedding favors.

“Manager Hughes finally brought his wife out to meet everyone! She's gorgeous!”

“We always wondered why he never brought his plus-one to company dinners. Turns out he was keeping her all to himself.”

“Well, I guess certain people can finally give up their little fantasies, huh?”

A coworker who'd never liked me let her gaze drift in my direction, her eyes sliding over me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

Their intertwined hands seared into my vision, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the bitter sting rising in my throat.

Murray used to say that office romances reflected poorly on leadership, that we should act like any other boss and employee at work.

I'd always respected that. I thought he was principled, that he refused to let personal feelings compromise his professionalism.

Turns out his principles only ever applied to me.

“You must be Eva! Thank you so much for taking care of Murray all these years. Here, these are wedding favors from the two of us.”

Iris walked over to me with a bright smile, grabbed my hand before I could pull away, and pressed the candy into my palm.

Then she leaned in close and dropped her voice, triumph oozing from every syllable：“Eva Cox, you really are a failure as a woman. If I were you, I wouldn't even have the nerve to show my face in this world.”

Her words drove straight into the rawest nerve I had, and before I could think, the wedding favors in my hand were already flying at her face.

She yelped, her expression crumpling into wounded innocence：“Eva, what are you doing? I was being nice, giving you wedding favors out of the goodness of my heart. How could you treat me like this?”

Murray was at her side in an instant, pulling Iris into his arms. His brow furrowed with displeasure as he looked at me：

“Team Leader Cox, I'm going to need you to apologize to my wife. Now.”

I lifted my gaze to his. My hand curled into a fist at my side：“And if I don't?”

His expression darkened：“When you do something wrong, you apologize. Even a child knows that. Surely I don't need to teach you, Team Leader Cox?”

“Or maybe you're telling me you'd rather not be involved in the final stages of ‘Starlight’?”

I stared at him in disbelief, my lashes trembling. He knew better than anyone what ‘Starlight’ meant to me.

I had poured countless sleepless nights into ‘Starlight’, revising draft after draft, reworking every detail until the lines blurred.

On a freezing winter night, I had camped outside the client's office. They pointed at my face and called me shameless, and I took it, all for the chance to present my design concept.

The day the client finally approved ‘Starlight’ and the project officially moved into production, my body gave out. I collapsed at my desk.

When I opened my eyes, Murray was sitting beside me, his eyes rimmed red. His voice had been so tender：

“Eva, as long as I'm in this position, I promise you'll always be the lead creator of ‘Starlight’. Your name will be listed first.”

And now, barely two years later, Murray was using ‘Starlight’ as a weapon against me.

My voice came out raw：“I'm the original creator of Starlight. I'm one of the key people who built it. What right do you have to threaten me with ‘Starlight’?”

Murray's gaze went cold, laced with warning：“Because I'm the general manager of this company. And because Iris is the newly appointed director, with co-creator credit and decision-making authority over ‘Starlight’.”

The words knocked the breath out of me. Co-creator credit? Decision-making authority over ‘Starlight’?

‘Starlight’ was my original work. My name was the one that belonged in the creator field.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Murray's voice dropped low, cutting me off：

“Eva, Iris only needs a secondary-creator credit. You're still the lead. That doesn't change.”

“But if you make a scene, I can't guarantee your name will appear on ‘Starlight’ at all.”

I clenched my teeth, my fists tight at my sides. ‘Starlight’ was days away from completion. I couldn't watch two years of work go up in smoke.

I forced the tears of humiliation back behind my eyes and spoke, each word bitten off separately：“I'm sorry, Iris.”

Iris nestled deeper into Murray's arms and smiled, magnanimous：“It's okay, Eva. I know you have feelings for Murray too. But love has to go both ways, you know?”

I kept my head down, the whispers closing in around me：

“So that's what this is about. Jealousy.”

“I've seen her throwing herself at Mr. Hughes more than once. Homemade lunches, hangover soup, the whole routine.”

“Tsk tsk……chased him like a lost puppy and ended up with nothing.”

Tears blurred my vision. Then my phone buzzed, pulling me back. I looked down at the screen and saw the word ‘Brother’ flashing across it. I ducked my head and rushed into the restroom.

I steadied my breathing and forced something light into my voice：“Hey.”

Frank's warm laugh came through the line：“Eva, we're going to see each other soon. I've got a surprise for you.”

I murmured a quiet ‘okay’, and after a few more words, he hung up.

“Eva, back there, my hands were tied. You don't hold that against me, do you?” I was about to turn around when Murray's voice rose from behind me.