“Anna is easy to please. Just buy her something she likes, and she’s happy.”

My face hardened as I asked, word by word, “What exactly are you trying to say?”

The man I had shared my bed with suddenly felt like a stranger.

It was as if, after seven years, I was meeting him for the first time.

“My point is—you’ll always be my wife. She’ll just be my girlfriend.

Since you can’t have children, once she gives birth, I’ll let the child call you Mom.”

I stared at David in utter disbelief.

Had I fallen into some nightmare?

I was his wife, Anna was his girlfriend—and he thought two women sharing a husband was acceptable?

If this ever went public, it would cause a storm of outrage.

Three years ago, after a checkup, the doctor told me I had fertility issues—so severe that I might never conceive.

My first thought back then was divorce.

I didn’t want to trap David in a childless marriage.

But he was the one who stopped me.

That day, leaving the hospital, he told me tenderly,

“As long as we try, God won’t abandon us.”

I asked, “And if I really can’t have children?”

He answered, “As long as we’re together, that’s enough. Children can’t be forced. You’re more important than anything.”

I believed him. I truly did.

And because I believed him, all this disaster followed.

Cheating. A mistress. A plan to let her give birth for him.

And now, he wanted me to coexist with her—

to raise her child as my own?

Every word he said suffocated me.

I refused firmly. “Forget it. I will never agree to this.”

“Why not? Anna already agreed. Why can’t you?”

“Because I can say no. That’s my right.”

“Then what would make you agree?” David’s voice grew louder, anxious.

To him, this was the perfect solution.

But to me, it was revolting.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never agree.”

“Claire!!”

David was about to explode when Anna knocked on the door.

Smiling sweetly, she said, “David, let me handle this. After all, we’re both women—we’ll talk better.”

“Fine. I’ll wait outside.”

As David left, he closed the door.

Anna locked it behind him and turned to me with a smirk.

“Claire, why don’t you tell me what you really think?”

I frowned. “What are you trying to do?”

Instinct told me she meant harm.

She came closer, pressing her fingers against one of my bruises—at first lightly, then suddenly harder.

She jabbed at the wound and sneered, “What pride do you have left?”

“You’re older, not as gentle as me, infertile—and you still have the face to refuse?”

“Be smart, accept it, and your life will be much easier.”

I clenched my teeth against the pain, still not understanding what game she was playing.

But share a husband with her?

Absolutely not.

I stared at her and asked, “You stole my husband, carried his child behind my back—don’t you feel any shame?”

“Shame? In today’s world, who even talks about shame anymore?”

Her fingers pressed against one of my bruises, sliding over the wound, sometimes light, sometimes pressing down hard.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, my lips trembled from the pain, yet I refused to make a sound.

Surprised, she asked, “Even now, you won’t beg me?”

“As long as you get down on your knees and beg, I’ll let you off. We can split the days—you get Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; I’ll take Tuesdays, Thursdays, and weekends.”

All I could think of was money.

Both David Miller and I were senior executives in publicly traded companies.

Except for not having children, our life had been worry-free.

And that was exactly why someone like her could find an opening.

“No, thanks. I have no interest in your little arrangement.”

I rejected her proposal outright.

She suddenly dug her fingers deep into the one place where my bone was fractured, making me gasp as if I couldn’t breathe.

The pain was unbearable—I instinctively tried to push her away.

But with that tiny movement, she deliberately fell backward, crying out pitifully, “Don’t hit me! Please, don’t hit me!”

Anna Parker’s cries were loud and convincing, sounding heartbreakingly real.

Outside, David banged on the door frantically.

“Anna, what happened? Are you okay?!”

“Open the door—let me in right now!”

I could see his furious eyes through the crack.

It was a look I had never seen before—like he wanted to tear me apart.

And all of it was directed at me, lying helpless in the hospital bed.

Only then did I realize—I had been set up by this woman.

I tried to explain, but David shouted, “Stop pretending! Open the door now, or don’t blame me for being rough with you!”

He had already decided I was the one who hurt Anna, which meant that in his heart—she was more important than me.

I gave a bitter laugh, dragged my weak body out of bed, and opened the door.

In a second, David rushed past me to Anna’s side.

“Anna, are you okay? I’ll get the doctor right now!”

Before I could even speak, a nurse and a doctor came in for the examination.

During the process, David stood up and glared at me with a rage I had never witnessed before. For the first time, I felt a sliver of fear.

“It’s not what you think,” I explained weakly. “I didn’t do anything—she fell on purpose.”

But I knew it was useless. No matter what I said, David was convinced it was my fault.

He warned me not to lie again—if anything happened to Anna’s child, I’d pay dearly.

“I can barely walk—how could I possibly push her?”

“Stop making excuses! You just don’t want me to have a child!”

“What did you say?” I looked at him, stunned.

Seven years of marriage—and I wanted nothing more than to give him a child.

What I couldn’t accept was why he had to lie to me, why he had to secretly start a family with another woman.

“You just can’t stand the thought of me having kids while you can’t, isn’t that it?”

“Fine, fine, whatever you say.”

I had no strength left to argue. Anna, pretending to be in pain, even had the audacity to throw me a triumphant look.

I made up my mind and told David calmly, “Since you’ve made your choice, then let’s divorce.”

“What? Divorce?”

He thought he had heard wrong, staring at me in disbelief.

“You didn’t mishear. From now on, we’re nothing to each other.”