Today marked both the death anniversary of our firstborn and also our seventh wedding anniversary. James and I usually celebrated it quietly, but this year, I wanted it to be different. After three years of grieving, I finally had good news—I was pregnant again.

James didn’t know yet. I wanted it to be a surprise. I could imagine his face once he found out. So I drove to the hospital for my first ultrasound.

At the hospital lobby, I caught sight of a familiar face—Dr. Evans. The same doctor who had fought to save my first born Amelia during her heart transplant.

I wanted to thank him, maybe tell him about the new life growing inside me. But before I could call out, he saw me first—and froze. His expression changed instantly. Shock. Panic. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away quickly.

Almost running. I stopped in confusion, my smile fading. “That’s… strange,” I murmured, watching him disappear down the hall. I brushed it off, thinking maybe he was just busy, but an uneasy feeling began to gnaw at me.

After the scan, I stepped outside to the hospital garden, holding the ultrasound photo in my hands. I smiled faintly at the tiny dot that would soon become our baby. I was still staring at it when I saw Dr. Evans again, talking to someone near the parking lot.

At first, I didn’t think much of it—until I recognized the man standing with him.

James. My husband.

I froze behind the pillar, the ultrasound photo trembling in my fingers.

“I just saw Nicole a while ago,” Dr. Evans was saying, his voice shaky. “She almost saw me, and I panicked. I ran. I just don’t know how to face her after everything that happened.”

James’s voice came next—calm, cold, far too familiar. “Relax, will you? If you keep running, she’ll get suspicious. Just keep calm.”

“James…” the doctor murmured. “It still feels wrong. She deserves to know—about the transplant—about what really happened to her daughter—”

“Shut up,” James hissed. “She doesn’t need to know. Not now. Not ever. She can’t know that the heart that was supposed to go to Amelia was given to my child with Sasha,” James finished coldly.

The world stopped. My knees went weak as his voice continued, sharp and cruel, each word carving into me like glass.

“She’s stupid for not knowing,” he sneered. “So just act normal. No one should find out—not yet—about my affair with Sasha. And when the time comes, I’ll make that child my heir and dispose of Nicole for good.”

The ultrasound photo slipped from my hand, fluttering to the ground.

My whole body trembled.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

My baby—my Amelia—died because of him. Because he chose to save another woman’s child. Because the man I loved, the man I married, gave our daughter’s heart to his mistress’s baby.

And Sasha… My best friend. The woman I helped when she was broke, the one I recommended to James’s company because I wanted to help her start over. The woman I trusted.

They both betrayed me.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, numb, as their voices faded into the distance. My chest felt like it was collapsing. My mind couldn’t catch up with the weight of what I’d just heard.

I walked out of the hospital in a daze. The afternoon sun was blinding, too bright for such a dark truth. Cars honked, people brushed past me, but I didn’t hear anything except the echo of James’s words—dispose of Nicole.

My phone rang. I barely glanced at the screen before answering.

“Love,” James said, his tone casual, even warm. “Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Something came up at work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Nicole?” he prompted. “You there?”

I forced a small breath. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

“Good,” he said lightly. “I love you.”

And just like that, the call ended.

I stood there, phone still pressed to my ear, staring at the street as everything inside me cracked open.

Love. Work. Lies. He had said all those words to me before—every single one of them—but now I knew what they truly meant.

I didn’t even remember how I got home. I just knew that by the time I stepped inside, the house felt colder than ever. The photos on the walls mocked me—smiles that had been built on betrayal.

I sank to the floor, clutching my stomach, and sobbed until my throat ached. Every sound felt hollow, every memory tainted.

For ten years, James had been my whole world. We grew up together—childhood friends who turned into something more. I had loved him since I was old enough to understand what love meant. He was reckless back then, the city’s infamous playboy, and everyone said he would never change. But he did—or at least, I thought he did.

They called me the girl who tamed the untamable. And for a while, we really did have our forever. I fought for him, against my mother’s disapproval, against reason, against everything. My mother warned me once, “A man who lives by desire will never learn loyalty.” I didn’t listen. I left home for James, believing love could make him better.

Now I know how wrong I was. As the truth of his betrayal sank in, regret clawed its way through me. Every sacrifice, every choice I made for him—it all led to this.

Through blurred tears, I reached for my phone with trembling hands. When my mother’s voice answered on the other end, I broke down completely.

“Mom…”

“Nicole? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry, Mom. But I’m… I’m divorcing James. I can’t stay with him anymore. Please. Take me back. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll obey you, even if you want me to marry someone else. I just… I can’t stay here anymore… because he killed our baby for his mistress’ child.”

I didn’t sleep that night. By morning, my eyes burned from tears, but my mind was clear. If James thought I would crumble, he underestimated the woman he married.

I walked into the hospital. When I reached Dr. Evans’s office, his secretary tried to stop me, but one look from me was enough.

“Tell him Nicole Wilson wants to see him,” I said sharply. “Now.”

Her eyes widened, and within seconds, I was standing inside his office.

He looked startled when he saw me. “Mrs. Wilson, I—I wasn’t expecting—”

“Cut the act,” I interrupted coldly, slamming my bag onto his desk. “You already know why I’m here.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “I’m not sure what you mean—”

“Oh, don’t lie to me.” My voice was low but dangerous. “I know James paid you. I know what he made you do. You think I don’t know why my daughter died? You think I’m that blind?”

He paled instantly, his mouth opening to deny it—but I didn’t give him the chance.

“Tell me, Doctor,” I continued, stepping closer, “how much did he pay you to stay quiet? Whatever the amount was, I’ll double it. No—triple it. All I need are the documents proving my husband’s involvement in my daughter’s death.”

His hands trembled. “Mrs. Wilson, please… if I give you those files, he’ll—he’ll destroy me. My family—”

I smiled bitterly. “Then maybe you’ve forgotten who I am.” I leaned closer, my voice turning sharp. “Before I was Nicole Wilson, I was Nicole Reid. My family built the Reid Group—one of the most powerful conglomerates in the city. If James Wilson tries to touch you or your family, I’ll make sure he disappears before he even has the chance.”

His eyes widened, shock flickering across his face.

“Choose, Doctor,” I said coldly. “Help me, or I’ll make sure you regret protecting a murderer.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of his shallow breathing. Then, slowly, he reached for the drawer of his desk, pulled out a brown envelope, and slid it across to me.

“These are copies of the medical records,” he whispered shakily. “And the transfer documents… showing that the heart meant for Amelia was redirected. Please, Mrs. Wilson, don’t tell him I gave them to you. He’ll ruin my life.”

I took the envelope, gripping it tightly. “Don’t worry,” I said, my tone softer now. “I’ll protect you. You’ve done enough.”

When I walked out of that hospital, the weight in my chest felt heavier—but this time, it wasn’t grief. It was fury. Controlled. Sharp. Burning quietly beneath my skin.

The next stop was my lawyer’s office.

He looked up from his desk in surprise when I entered. “Mrs. Wilson,” he greeted. “What brings you—”

“I want a divorce,” I said flatly, placing the envelope on his desk. “And those are my reasons.”

He opened the file, his brows furrowing as he skimmed through the documents. “This… this is serious. Are you sure about this, Mrs. Wilson? James Wilson won’t let this go easily.”

“I don’t need his approval,” I said coldly. “File it. Once I’m gone, release the documents to the media in five days.”

He hesitated. “Gone? Where will you go?”

“Somewhere far enough for him not to find me,” I said simply. “Just make sure the truth comes out.”

I left without looking back.

By the time I returned home, the sun was already setting. The house was quiet, too quiet—until I heard the sound of laughter coming from the living room.

A small, innocent laugh.

When I stepped inside, I froze.

Nico. The five-year-old boy Sasha brought into our lives years ago. She had told me she didn’t know who the father was, that she was struggling, that she needed help. And I—foolish, trusting—had taken pity on her. I even told James we should help raise him.

I remembered telling the boy to call James Daddy. I remembered how happy James looked whenever Nico hugged him. I thought it was kindness. Now I knew it was guilt.

Because Nico was his. Their son.

My throat tightened as I stared at him. The same eyes. The same smile. The same face as the man who destroyed me.

“Auntie!” Nico said happily, running toward me. “Let’s play a game! Please?”

I shook my head, voice barely steady. “Not now, Nico.”

“Please, Auntie, just one game—”

“I said no!” The words came out sharper than I intended.

He flinched, his small hands tightening around his toy. “A-Auntie?”

“I said I don’t want to play!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

The room fell silent just as James and Sasha appeared from the hallway.

“What’s going on?” James demanded, rushing forward as Nico began to cry.

Sasha placed a hand on his shoulder, feigning concern. “I’m sorry, Nicole. We didn’t mean to disturb you. Nico just wanted to say hello… maybe this isn’t a good time.”

I laughed bitterly through my tears. “You’re right. It’s a bad time. In fact, it’s a bad life.” I turned to her, my tone cold. “Get out of my house.”

“Nicole—” James started, but I cut him off.

“I said get out!”

Sasha quickly scooped up the boy, her eyes flickering with false worry. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go. Auntie’s just tired.”

When they were gone, James turned to me, frustration written all over his face. “What the hell is wrong with you, Nicole? You scared the kid!”

I stared at him, forcing my trembling hands to stay still. “The kid?” I repeated softly, my voice almost calm. “You mean Nico?”

He frowned, still defensive. “Yes, Nico. He’s just a child, for God’s sake. You didn’t have to yell at him like that.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Right. Because you care so much about children, don’t you?”

His brows knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Before I could move, he raised his hand—anger flashing in his eyes.

The slap echoed through the room.

For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. Then I laughed—low and broken. “You slapped me… for him?”

He hesitated, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Nicole, I—”

“Enough.” I took off my wedding ring and threw it at him. It landed with a soft clink on the marble floor. “Congratulations, James. You’ve finally set me free. Let’s divorce now.”

James laughed—easy, dismissive. “Divorce? Seriously? You’re being dramatic because it’s our anniversary? This is ridiculous.”

“I’m done,” I said, flat.

He shrugged, like my words were a mood he could smooth away. “Come on. Tonight—dinner. Let’s go out. You’ll feel better. Let me take you out. Now.”

His calm was deliberate, practiced. He was already angling to defuse, to pretend nothing had changed.

A small cry cut the air. Nico.

James’s smile didn’t drop—only shifted to attentive. “Wait. Hold on.” He moved toward the hallway in one quick stride, hands already softening into the father routine.

Sasha trailed behind him, concern arranged on her face. He looked back once, pity threaded through his voice. “Later, Nicole. We’ll talk. Tonight. Promise.”

He left before I could answer. I stood there a moment, then turned and walked out without looking back. I just want to be free, so I booked a hotel. Until a knock on the door broke the silence. I opened it expecting the food delivery, but it was Sasha.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

She stepped in without waiting. “I needed to see you. James told me you asked for a divorce. He was devastated. Ten years, Nicole. He’s not—” She trailed off, trying the pity voice.

I laughed. It was sharp and short. “You’re telling me to spare us both a scene? After everything?”

“Look, this isn’t the time to start a war. Think about your life. Think about the family.”

“You mean your family,” I said. “The one you built with betrayal and lies? Do you really think I wouldn’t know? Don’t make me ask you twice, Sasha. Whose son is Nico?”

She blinked. For a second she tried to keep the façade. Then she shrugged like someone tired of pretending. “You’re not as clueless as you looked, Nicole. Fine. Yes. He’s James’s son.”

I heard it the way a gunshot sounds in a room. “And the heart?” I asked. “The transplant meant for Amelia?”

Sasha’s laugh was small and vicious. “You finally get it. Good for you. I mean, I always tell James to tell you the truth. To dispose of you, but he never wants to because she pities you. Figured out, you would eventually do it, so file your papers. We don’t need you. You were always in the way.”

Anger rose hot and steady. “Do you think I’ll let you get away with this?” I said. “You sold my daughter’s life for your child. You helped him take our baby’s heart.”

She stepped forward, too close. “You think you scare me? You think threats from a Reid will do anything? Not if you’re dead.”

The words landed like ice. I saw red for a heartbeat—years of betrayal compressed into that single sentence. I moved before I could think. Her hand came up. Mine found her hair. We tore at each other. Clothes snagged. Nails marked skin.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t sure if I was alive. Everything was blurry—lights moving, voices blending into static. My body felt weightless and cold.

“She fell from the fifth floor—how is she still breathing?” a voice said somewhere near me.

Another answered sharply, “We can’t accept her here. Mr. Wilson already gave orders—no treatment.”

I tried to move, to speak, but my lips wouldn’t part. My body wouldn’t obey.

“She’s bleeding out,” someone whispered. “If we move her now, she won’t make it.”

“Then move her,” another replied. “James Wilson said to transfer her immediately. He doesn’t want her under his name. James doesn’t want her to be cured.”

The words cut through the haze like blades. My husband wanted me dead.

I tried to scream, but only a weak breath escaped. Darkness swallowed me again.

When I opened my eyes the second time, everything was quieter. White ceiling. Soft beeping. A faint smell of antiseptic. My throat burned when I tried to speak.

A nurse gasped. “She’s awake!”

Footsteps approached quickly. A doctor leaned over me, his eyes tired but kind. “Mrs. Wilson, can you hear me?”

I nodded weakly. “Where… am I?”

“You’re in St. Vincent Hospital,” he said softly. “You were unconscious for two days. But you’re stable now. You and your baby are safe.”

My breath caught. “My baby?”

He smiled gently. “You’re lucky. But the baby didn’t survive. I’m so sorry.”

The words sank in slowly, like ice spreading through my chest. For a long moment, I just stared at him, unable to breathe. Then the tears came—quiet, shaking, uncontrollable.

I cried for the second time in my life—the first was when Amelia died, and now, for the child I would never meet. But beneath the grief, a strange calm settled in. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe fate was sparing another innocent soul from being tied to a man like James.

It was cruel, but it felt like release.

I pressed a hand to my stomach and whispered, “Rest now, little one. You don’t have to suffer like I did.”

I blinked back tears. “How?” I whispered. “How am I alive when James ordered them not to save me?”

Before he could answer, the door opened. A tall man stepped inside, his presence sharp enough to change the air. He wore a dark suit, no hesitation in his stride. His voice was low, steady, commanding.

“That’s because I stopped them,” he said. “I had you transferred here under my name before they could finish what he ordered.”

The doctor stepped aside instantly.

I stared at the man. Strong jaw. Cold eyes. I knew that face from the news, from James’s endless rants about competition. “Oliver,” I whispered.

He gave a faint smile. “So you’ve heard of me.”

“What do you want?” I asked warily.

He studied me for a long moment before speaking. “He’s my rival—and now, he’s yours. We want the same thing. So, how about you marry me and get revenge?”