When I found out I was pregnant for the fourth time, I rushed to Tristan Muller's office, clutching the pregnancy test slip in my trembling hand.

I hadn’t even knocked when I heard voices from inside, clear and unmistakable.

“Make sure the birth control pill isn’t harmful, okay? I promised Zara I wouldn’t touch Linda Weggy. If she ends up pregnant, that little girl will lose her mind.”

A low, disapproving voice responded, “Medicine is always toxic to some degree. It’s not completely harmless. I just don’t get it—Linda is your wife. Why are you chasing after a secretary?”

“You think I haven’t tried reasoning with her? I made her take pills and miscarry three times. At this rate, she’ll never be able to be a mother. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t need a reason to love someone.”

My heart froze.

Everything I thought was love and happiness had been a carefully constructed lie. Beneath our marriage lay betrayal and deceit, festering like an open wound.

——

Inside, Tristan scrolled through luxury jewelry on his phone, a rare smile softening his usually sharp features.

“How about this one?” he said indulgently. “Zara’s wanted it for a long time. It’ll look gorgeous on her with her fair skin.”

Across from him, Marco Qale, a respected gynecologist and his close friend, sighed heavily.

“Jewelry that expensive would look good on anyone. But tell me this—after five years of marriage, have you ever bought anything like that for Linda?”

Tristan’s expression darkened.

“She doesn't know how to dress up,” he said dismissively. “Even if I did, she’d just say I’m wasting money.”

“Zara is different,” he added with a wistful smile. “She’s young. Girls her age love pretty things.”

Marco nearly exploded on the spot.

“Wake up, Tristan! Linda is your wife—your wife of five years! She lost three children for you. And yet she’s not worth even a fraction of what you give to Zara Swan?”

Marco’s voice grew colder. “Let me warn you one last time. Even imported birth control can ruin someone’s body when taken for too long. If you keep this up, you’ll never be able to have children—not even if you regret it later.”

Tristan waved him off with a bored expression.

“I won’t regret it,” he said smugly. “I promised Zara she’d be the only one to have my child.”

“As for Linda? I won’t divorce her. Half of what I earn is enough compensation for her.”

Marco stood abruptly, his face flushed with anger.

“I’ve watched you build your business from the ground up, step by step—and Linda was there through it all. She drank more than you at social events, endured countless sleepless nights for your success. And this is how you repay her?”

He clenched his fists. “I’ve said what needed to be said. If she ever finds out the truth, mark my words—you’ll destroy yourself.”

With that, Marco stormed out of the office.

I shrank back into the adjacent utility room, my heart pounding violently in my chest.

Five years of marriage. Seven years of love.

I had stood by Tristan’s side as he built his empire, working day and night to help him succeed. I scrimped on skincare, avoided buying cosmetics and lived frugally to save money for his dreams.

When he thrived, I was happier than anyone. But now, I realized all my sacrifices had become a joke.

Marco once told me the miscarriages were due to overwork and heavy drinking at business gatherings. I blamed myself and took medication religiously, hoping to strengthen my body. I dreamed of having a child—a symbol of our love. But to Tristan, I was nothing but an obstacle to his pursuit of “true love.” He was too cowardly to ask for a divorce. So I would make the decision for him.

I stepped out of the company building into the biting cold, the wind cutting through my coat like shards of glass.

Five hours. I waited under the flickering streetlights, frozen in place until the last office light dimmed.

Finally, Tristan emerged. The moment his gaze landed on me, he whispered something to Zara, who stood beside him, then turned and walked toward me.

My heart twisted painfully as he wrapped me in a warm embrace. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you come inside?”

“I’m fine,” I forced a smile. “I just wanted to bring you dinner, but your secretary said you’d already eaten.”

His brow furrowed in gentle concern. “You’re not well—don’t do that again. I’d feel awful if you wore yourself out.”

He pulled a small bottle from his pocket. “By the way, Marco dropped off your medicine. You’re almost out, right?”

I took the pills wordlessly, slipping them into my bag. Winter’s embrace was still warm, but his touch had turned cold.

When we arrived home, Tristan wasted no time pulling me down onto the couch. His hands moved with urgency, his lips hovering over my neck. I placed a firm hand against his chest, stopping him.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face, but he forced a smile. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you always wanted a child?”

“I’m not feeling well today. Maybe next time.”

His desire evaporated instantly. Without a word, he stood and disappeared into the bathroom to shower.

Moments later, his phone buzzed on the table. Zara’s syrupy voice filled the room, each word grating on my nerves. I unlocked his phone effortlessly using her birthday as the passcode.

The screen sprang to life, revealing only one social app. Inside, there was a single contact labeled Hot Kitten.

Her profile picture was of Zara dressed provocatively as a cat girl. I scrolled through their messages, my stomach twisting with nausea. The chat history was filled with flirtatious exchanges that pierced through me like knives.

[Mr. Muller, rooftop date?]

[Goblin, wait for me.]

[Mr. Muller, how about tonight in the car? It’s parked right under your house. I’ve never tried it before.]

[Not afraid of getting caught? Guess I’ll have to risk it for the princess.]

[Mr. Muller, I really want to be part of that new foreign project…]

[No problem. Impress me tonight and it’s yours.]

I clenched my jaw and opened the company's project records. Every major deal from the past five years had Zara’s name attached to it.

To appease her, he’d handpicked a popular celebrity as the project spokesperson. The final payment date? Her birthday.

There were countless auction receipts for luxury jewelry, all gifted to her under the guise of company prizes.

Tristan’s so-called hidden love wasn’t hidden at all. It was blatant, etched into every detail of his life. The brands of jewelry he’d bought for Zara were ones I recognized—the same ones he claimed were gifts for me.

I had believed him, thinking they were rewards from auction sponsors. My frugality, my loyalty, my sacrifices—everything had become weapons he used to wound me.

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and cold. I didn’t need to read any further. Instead, I contacted a lawyer online to discuss the terms of our divorce. What was mine would remain mine. No one would take it from me.

The night passed without sleep. At dawn, I got up and washed, ready to face the day. My phone rang just as I stepped out of the bathroom. Tristan’s voice was tinged with confusion.

“Linda, what did you book?”

I moved the phone away from my ear, keeping my tone indifferent. “Nothing, just a beauty appointment. Didn’t you say I should dress up more?”

He chuckled, seemingly pleased by my answer.

“There’s a meeting at the company today. I better get going,” I added.

He pulled me into his arms, nuzzling against my neck. “My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world, even without trying. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

I smiled faintly but said nothing. Some lies no longer hurt—because I had already decided to leave.

“As a reward, will my husband give me a big gift today?” I asked playfully.

“Of course,” Tristan promised with a confident smile. “I’ll make sure it’s worth the wait. See you at home.”

The moment he left, the driver arrived with a beautifully arranged breakfast.

Five years ago, I would’ve been touched by the gesture. Tristan had faithfully ordered my favorite breakfast from the same luxury hotel every single day of our marriage.

Back then, I thought it was his way of showing love. Now, it felt like empty routine—perfunctory and soulless.

If he truly cared, wouldn’t he have learned to cook even a single dish for me in all these years? He had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep me from clashing with Zara. I dumped the meal into the trash without hesitation, grabbed my coat and walked out the door. It was time to end this five-year charade.

***

At the lawyer’s office, I discussed the division of assets.

“The longer the marriage, the more complex the property entanglements,” the lawyer explained. “It’ll take a couple of days to finalize the agreement.”

I nodded and handed over evidence of the countless luxury gifts Tristan had given Zara under the guise of company expenses.

“Let’s meet in three days to review the finalized terms.”

With that, I left the law firm without looking back.

On the way home, a notification popped up on my phone—Tristan’s company had just released a celebratory video.

The screen showed champagne spraying into the air as employees cheered wildly. Tristan stood at the center of the chaos, soaked in champagne, laughing with pride. I recognized the suit he was wearing. It was the anniversary gift I had given him last year—the one he had cherished so dearly back then.

This year’s gift? He had returned it without a second thought.

***

I arrived at the company just as the atmosphere reached its climax. Standing on stage before the entire office, Tristan made a shocking announcement.

“I’m officially transferring half of my shares to Zara,” he declared, his voice steady and triumphant. “Additionally, there’s a bonus of 13.14 million dollars.”

Gasps filled the room. The employees broke into murmurs.

“Wow, half the shares? Zara’s basically the boss’s wife now!”

“Careful what you say. Mr. Muller is married. If Mrs. Muller hears this, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Oh please, everyone knows Mrs. Muller is like a ghost—never seen at events. Zara is young and beautiful; no man can resist that. Poor Mr. Muller.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the company changes its name to Swan someday.”

Their laughter echoed around me, but I simply clapped my hands and smiled. The room fell silent as Tristan spotted me in the crowd. His face paled instantly. “Linda… Why are you here?” he stammered. “It’s not what it looks like. I was just handing out bonuses—nothing more.”

Zara stepped forward with a smug smile, waving the share transfer agreement in her hand.

“Mr. Muller really is a generous boss,” she purred mockingly. “Thanks to his ‘care,’ I can now afford a lovely river-view villa.”

A few employees snickered, eager to witness the drama unfold. I met Tristan’s panicked gaze calmly.

“Giving out bonuses is perfectly normal,” I said lightly. “Employees deserve their rewards—make sure they get every penny.”

“You’re not upset?” he asked, bewildered.

“Why would I be?” I shrugged. “I just stopped by to take a look. You’re busy—carry on.”

Relieved, he followed me outside, trying to explain himself. “Linda, it’s not what you think,” he insisted. “I was only rewarding the team. Please don’t misunderstand.”

I almost laughed at the irony of it all. This was the same man who had sacrificed our three children to please Zara.

Now that he had everything he wanted, who was he pretending to convince?

I kept my expression composed. “Don’t worry, I’m not unreasonable. I don’t understand business matters anyway. Just do what you think is right.”

He exhaled audibly, visibly relieved. Before I left, he gently took my hand.

“There’s a celebration banquet coming up,” he said earnestly. “I’ll bring you this time. I have a big surprise for you.”

I nodded without a word and walked away. But inside, I sneered bitterly. He had already given me more than enough surprises.