It took Nicolas Miller a second to register the slap. Then he sighed, helplessness bleeding into his expression.

“Anastasia, you’re almost eight months pregnant. For the baby’s sake, can we hold off on the divorce talk?”

“What happened today was a lapse in judgment. I swear, I won’t see Phoenix again. Can you forgive me? Just this once?”

Phoenix Garza stood nearby, eyes welling up. She managed one sorrowful glance at Nicolas, too afraid to say a word. Nicolas tilted his head away, dodging her gaze like he couldn’t bear to meet it.

Between the two of them, Anastasia was the villain—the wife standing in the way of a pair of star-crossed lovers, as if she were the one who’d cheated.

A sharp pain knifed through her abdomen, bleaching the color from her face. Passersby kept stealing glances, hungry for a scene. Nicolas reached for her hand.

“Let’s go home first. We can talk there, okay?”

Anastasia recoiled as if his touch disgusted her, then turned toward the car.

She wasn’t about to stand there and humiliate herself further. But Nicolas lingered, throwing regretful looks over his shoulder as she slid into the back seat. Only then did he drag himself away and get in.

Watching him struggle to leave Phoenix was a knife to the heart. Every glance back was another twist.

Three years ago, she’d already asked for a divorce. Nicolas had jumped at it, ready to rush the paperwork and marry Phoenix—even if it meant walking away with nothing.

Faced with how completely devoted he was, Anastasia lashed out in desperation. She wrecked his office at the university, cornered Phoenix in her dorm—pulled her hair, slapped her—and posted videos online, shoving Phoenix into the ruthless spotlight of campus gossip.

Campus security intervened. Anastasia paid for the office damage through a settlement negotiated by their lawyers, and the university barred her from the residence halls. Nicolas pressured students to remove the videos, while the administration restricted posts identifying those involved in the pending investigation. He couldn't erase the scandal, but he could make her feel like the only person being punished.

Her actions were useless—a fool’s tantrum. It didn’t leave a scratch.

They didn’t bring Nicolas back. They only widened the distance and pulled him tighter to Phoenix.

So Anastasia gave in. Bitterly.

She signed the divorce papers and went to the university to find Nicolas—he hadn’t been home in ages—and get his signature.

But that same day, there was a lab accident involving Phoenix. She was badly hurt.

Phoenix tried to pin it on Anastasia, and Nicolas assured Anastasia,

“You’re pregnant. They won’t come after you.”

“Phoenix worked so hard to get here for grad school. If this accident gets out, she can’t stay in the program. Her entire future would be ruined.”

With their testimony stacked against her, Anastasia got dragged into the investigation.

She'd been outside the lab when the explosion sent fumes into the corridor. By the time she escaped, she'd inhaled enough to collapse. Emergency treatment saved her life, but complications led to severe bleeding. The baby didn't survive.

The safety investigation exposed Phoenix's mistake and her affair with Nicolas. She withdrew while facing disciplinary proceedings and vanished for three years. Nicolas escaped dismissal after a formal reprimand and a suspension from supervising graduate students. The university had accepted his claim that he hadn't knowingly provided false information. Anastasia still had the messages that could prove otherwise.

Nicolas, eaten up by guilt, came back to the family. Anastasia hadn’t laid eyes on Phoenix until today.

And yet, the moment they reunited, he chose Phoenix again. No hesitation.

Anastasia was done. Tired. Worn down from trying to save a relationship that had already died.

Back home, she climbed the stairs and retrieved the postnuptial agreement from the safe.

After the first affair, Nicolas had signed it with his own lawyer present and full financial disclosure. It assigned their jointly built investment portfolio to Anastasia if they separated and confirmed that the house and family-funded property were hers. The terms applied regardless of who caused the separation. It wasn't a magic punishment clause; it was a financial settlement he had accepted to persuade her to stay.

Now she signed the instruction authorizing her lawyer to file for divorce and seek enforcement. She would also release the messages she had withheld from the university three years ago.

Her hand shook around the pen. Tears hit the page, one after another, and she wiped them away before they could smudge the ink.

Her heart felt dead, and still—still—a dull ache sat heavy in her chest.

Over two decades together, and she still couldn’t understand what had pulled Nicolas so obsessively toward Phoenix in just one year.

When she finished, a sound came from behind her. Nicolas rested a hand gently on her shoulder and asked, softly,

“What are you doing?”

Anastasia's heart lurched as she slipped the agreement and her signed instructions under a stack of papers. Her lawyer had a copy, but she couldn't bear another confrontation before she got out.

When his fingers brushed the stack, her heart slammed against her ribs. Then Nicolas's phone rang, yanking his attention away and giving her one precious second of relief.

Standing close by, she could hear Phoenix Garza's voice clearly through the line. “Please—don't break anything! Those flowers are imported. They cost a fortune, and I can't afford to replace them! I'll leave the city. I won't interfere with Nicolas's marriage... Just please don't push me— Ah!”

A series of crashes followed Phoenix's startled cry, and the line cut off with a burst of static.

Nicolas shot to his feet, his expression turning to ice as he rounded on Anastasia. “I promised I wouldn't see Phoenix again. So why are you pushing her to the edge? Why did you send people to drive her out of her shop?”

“You rushed upstairs the second you got home—just to pull something so deceitful!”

The accusation knocked the breath out of Anastasia. She shook her head, trying to explain. “I didn't—”

But Nicolas cut her off, already turning his back on her, taking Phoenix's side just like he had three years ago.

Tears slid down Anastasia's cheeks, cold and unrelenting. She wiped them away, pulled the postnuptial agreement and her signed instructions from the pile, and snapped a photo to send to her lawyer.

[Uriah, can you verify whether this agreement is still valid?]

[If it is, please start the process as soon as possible.]

Minutes later, a reply lit up her screen: [Ms. Warren, we have strong grounds to enforce the financial terms. I'll file the divorce petition, arrange formal service, and request temporary control of the house and restrictions on moving the disputed funds. A judge must approve those orders. The final divorce will take longer, but we can start protecting you now.]

With the confirmation in hand, Anastasia felt a quiet sense of closure.

Then a phone rang—unexpected, muffled—from the desk drawer. Her brows knitted together as she opened the hidden compartment and found a phone she'd never seen before.

Curiosity got the better of her. She answered. An unfamiliar middle-aged man's voice came through:

“Professor Miller, I'm really sorry, but I can't keep renting you the apartment near the university. My mother has fallen ill, and I need to sell the property to cover her medical bills.”

“The lease expires this week. I've been sending notices to this phone and your rental email for two months. You authorized our movers to return everything to your home but never confirmed a pickup date. The boxes are on their way now.”

A bad feeling settled in Anastasia's gut.

Just as she feared, the items the caller mentioned arrived soon after.

Hands trembling, Anastasia opened box after box.

Six of them. Packed with photos of Phoenix, personal keepsakes, and even a small piece of clothing with unmistakable signs of a man's use...

Nausea slammed into her. She bolted to the bathroom and heaved over the sink.

Disgust rolled through her.

The entire ‘return to family’ had been a sham.

Three years ago, Nicolas had rented that apartment near the university for secret meetings with Phoenix—and he'd kept the lease ever since.

For three years, he'd pretended to stay overnight for work, using it as an excuse to visit and indulge in Phoenix's presence.

To keep it hidden, he'd even stashed a spare phone in his study.

If she hadn't been sorting through papers today, she might never have uncovered his secret.

Collapsing onto the bathroom floor, Anastasia sobbed, finally releasing years of pent-up humiliation and grief.

Charlie, the housekeeper, rushed in, confused by the scene, and tried to comfort her. But Anastasia, overwhelmed, could only point at the boxes:

“Burn them. Burn every last one—in the backyard!”

The emotional spiral sent sharp cramps searing through her abdomen.

While Charlie handled the task, Anastasia went pale. Fumbling for her phone in a panic, she instinctively called Nicolas:

“Honey, my stomach hurts. Please come back...”

His cold voice cut her off:

“Anastasia, you're truly heartless. Do you even understand that Phoenix was pushed down the stairs by the people you sent? She's unconscious in the hospital.”

“She needs care, and yet you're trying to use the baby as a lure to get me back?”

Cold and shaken, Anastasia felt her heart shatter.

She hadn't orchestrated this. But Nicolas didn't bother to investigate. He put blind trust in Phoenix's story.

As she tried to explain, she realized the call had already ended.

Her grip tightened on the phone. Tears fell freely, blurring her vision as they splashed onto the screen.

Before she lost consciousness, she collapsed onto the cold bathroom floor. Charlie rushed to her side; in the distance, ambulance sirens wailed.

As Charlie told the dispatcher she was pregnant, Anastasia tried to hold on. She couldn't know whether her baby was safe. Then everything went dark.