"Does it still hurt? You did amazing, sweetheart."

Derek's eyes were fixed entirely on me.

He'd been running around nonstop, handling all the paperwork and booking the best postpartum recovery center in the city.

Early the next morning, I hadn't even opened my eyes when I heard the nurse push open the door.

"By the way, if you've decided on a name, you can head down to the first-floor lobby to process the birth certificate and insurance card."

"If you haven't settled on one yet, you can always do it at the municipal center after discharge."

Derek nodded with a smile, then listened as the nurse went through a list of care instructions for me.

Through the thin curtain, I watched him tap away at his phone, recording every single word.

Attentive. Patient. In just one day and one night, he'd become the model husband in everyone's eyes.

Everyone's but mine.

My heart was cold. Stone cold.

"Hey, you're awake!" He brightened when he noticed me stirring. "We'll stay here for observation the next couple of days, then move to the recovery center the day after tomorrow."

Derek wiped down the bedside tray with a sanitizing wipe, then set the prepared postpartum meal in front of me.

"Oh—the nurse came by asking about the baby's name. Are we going with what we agreed on before? Leigh Shaw?"

I adjusted myself against the pillows, sat up a little straighter, and took a slow sip of soup.

"No. Not that."

"I want the baby to take my last name. Leigh Henson."

The bowl slipped from Derek's hands.

It hit the floor with a sharp clang, splattering broth and bits of food across the tiles. His voice caught in his throat. "Why?"

"Because of that thing in the car that looked exactly like a condom wrapper?"

"I already explained that. It was from Adela's takeout. If you don't believe me, I'll call her right now and she can tell you herself."

He said it without flinching. Not a trace of guilt. If anything, there was irritation in his tone—annoyance that I was making something out of nothing.

When I said nothing, Derek picked up his phone, ready to dial.

The very next second, a ringtone sounded just outside the door.

Adela Matthews walked in carrying a bouquet of flowers and a gift bag.

"Mr. Shaw. Viola."

The moment she stepped inside, her eyebrows lifted in surprise at the mess on the floor.

"What happened here?"

"Mr. Shaw, are you hurt?"

Without missing a beat, she set everything down and moved to Derek's side, turning his hands over, scanning him for injuries.

The motion was smooth, practiced—intimate in a way that seemed almost unconscious.

I watched her hands on him, my gaze frozen over.

Derek shifted back half a step, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He pulled Adela forward by the arm.

"Adela, perfect timing. Yesterday—you were eating takeout in my car, right? And you left that glove wrapper behind."

"Viola's got the wrong idea. Clear it up for her. Right now, to her face."

Adela was quick. She clapped her hands together and let out a dramatic groan. "Oh my God, that was me! I'm so sorry!"

"I was even joking with Mr. Shaw about it in the car—I said the wrapper looked like a condom packet. I just tossed it aside and totally forgot to throw it away!"

"Viola, come on. You trained me yourself. How could I possibly go after your husband?"

She sidled up to me with a sheepish grin and took my hand. "Viola, I'm your eyes and ears at the company. Your most loyal person."

I looked at her. Held her gaze. Said nothing for a long time.

Maybe once, that had been true. But now I knew with absolute certainty that it wasn't.

Adela had joined our company straight out of college, back when Panorama was still in its infancy. I'd taken her under my wing personally—taught her everything I knew. Finance. Management. HR. Sales. If I had the skill, I passed it on.

Because I saw myself in her. A girl from a rural town, no parents to speak of, who'd clawed her way forward on sheer will alone.

So I invested more in her than I had in anyone.

And to her credit, she was smart. She knew how to show gratitude.

Earlier this year, after I'd gotten pregnant, I suffered a hemorrhage from a low-lying placenta. Derek happened to be away on a business trip.

Adela was the one who saved me.

"I'll remember what you've done for me for the rest of my life."

I truly treated her like a little sister. Every few days, I'd buy her gifts, clothes, send her cash. The apartment she lived in was mine.

Later, when I was put on bed rest to protect the pregnancy, I gave her my position as the CEO's executive assistant and granted her enormous authority. Men change when they get money—that was her reasoning when she offered to keep an eye on Derek for me.

What I never expected was that her "keeping an eye on him" would land her in his bed.

I looked at the two people standing before me—two people I had once trusted completely—and felt my heart being scorched in hot oil.

Adela smiled and handed me the flowers, then pulled two small gold bracelets from her bag. "These are gifts for the baby. Just a little something—I hope you don't mind."

When she saw I was still in low spirits, she added another line.

"Viola, stop overthinking things. I know what this is—your pregnancy hormones are dropping, so your emotions are all over the place. Am I right?"

"Everyone else in this world might betray you, but I never will."

She swore it with absolute conviction. But my gaze had fallen on those two gold bracelets, and my mind went somewhere else entirely.

I'd seen the receipt for those bracelets before—in the pocket of Derek's coat.

I'd assumed he'd bought them as a gift for the baby.

Now I knew they were bought for Adela.

"That's enough. I've put up with you for days."

"Do you have any idea how much work I've turned down for you and the baby? I've been here every single day, and all I get is that sour look on your face. How much longer are you going to keep this up?"

"It's just having a baby. Do you have to be this dramatic?"

Derek's brows were pinched tight, impatience etched into every line of his face.

"Mr. Shaw, don't be like that." Adela's voice turned soft, placating. "Viola's at her most vulnerable right now. She needs understanding—"

He didn't even let her finish. He grabbed Adela's arm and headed for the door.

"Understanding? Who's going to understand me?"

"Walking around with that look on her face—who's that supposed to be for? Adela, let's go. Back to the office."

The door slammed shut.

My whole body flinched. Instinctively, I looked toward the crib.

In that moment, tears fell like a broken string of pearls.

"Hello?"

"List my downtown two-bedroom for sale. Urgent."

"Come by this afternoon. I'll send you the address."

The voice on the other end agreed immediately, then asked cautiously, "Is everything okay?"

"Nothing serious. Don't worry about it."

The person on the phone was a student I'd sponsored through college—a recent graduate. I'd quietly placed him at the company Derek and I co-owned. No one else knew about it.

Now, he was the only card I had left to play.

The postpartum center was draped in festive decorations, brimming with the warmth of the New Year season. In the room next door, a family of three was happily posing for newborn photos.

My room was the only one that was cold and quiet.

The company had already closed for the holiday. Where Derek went after leaving the hospital was obvious enough.

I couldn't stop myself from opening his social media. Empty. Not a single post. Not even one photo of the baby.

Still unwilling to accept it, I opened Adela's feed.

A photo in the snow, taken by someone else. The location tag: her hometown.

I zoomed in. There, reflected in her eyes, was Derek, holding the phone.

Finally not spending New Year's alone.

Heat flooded my eyes. The hand holding my phone wouldn't stop shaking.

Something blazed inside my chest, clawing its way up, burning so fiercely it hurt.

Derek and I had been together for ten years. Ten years of building everything side by side. From being so broke we squeezed into a hundred-square-foot rental eating instant noodles, to owning our own company—I thought that after weathering every storm together, we would never be torn apart.

But reality delivered its cruelest blow yet.

All through the New Year holiday, Adela's social media feed kept updating.

Taking him to meet my mom and dad.

Gifts for Grandma and Grandpa.

The photos showed health supplements, fruit baskets, premium cigarettes, fine liquor, and cash. I did a rough count—around $300,000.

Colleagues flooded the comments, asking if she was engaged.

Adela replied with a playful emoji.

The diamond ring he bought me.

The photo showed two hands clasped tightly together.

...

Eight full days of posts. I read every single one, down to the last word.

Those eight days stretched like eight years, and the grief seeped into every corner of my being.

Derek had vanished without a trace—off playing the perfect boyfriend in someone else's world.

By the eighth day, when work resumed, Derek still hadn't come to see me.

Instead, he went to the office and handed out red envelopes to everyone.

The BIGGEST return-to-work red envelope ever!

Adela's red envelope contained $26,000.

I froze.

I called Derek immediately.

"You gave Adela a red envelope that big for the return-to-work bonus? Have you lost your mind?"

"What are the other employees supposed to think? Derek, if you want out of this marriage, just say the word. I'm not someone who can't live without you."

Derek said nothing.

After a long silence, Adela's timid voice drifted through the line.

"Viola..."

"That red envelope was my bonus for landing the Southport project. It wasn't a return-to-work gift..."

I didn't buy it.

Bonuses were paid quarterly. The Northridge contract had been signed before the holiday—if anything, it wouldn't be disbursed until March.

And since when were bonuses given in cash?

"Put Derek on the phone. I need to speak with him."

I cut her off, my voice sharp as a blade.

"Mr. Shaw is... not available right now—"

The call went dead before she finished.

A few minutes later, a message came through—there was a return-to-work reception that evening.

I got the address from someone and took a cab straight there.

By the time I arrived, the reception was already underway.

Derek stood on the small stage, rattling off last year's achievements. After handing out a few rounds of red envelopes, he stepped down to make the rounds, toasting table by table.

When he reached Adela's table, someone started egging him on.

"Mr. Shaw, Adela helped the company land such a huge deal this year—aren't you going to show some appreciation?"

"Oh, stop it!" Adela swatted the person beside her with a coy pout, then ducked her head with a smile. "Mr. Shaw already gave me a red envelope!"

"Then how about a lovers' toast? Liven things up a little!"

The drinks had been flowing, and more and more voices joined the chorus.

Derek laughed—open, easy, magnetic. He pulled Adela close, and they linked arms, glasses raised.

The crowd cheered as they swapped glasses and drained them in one go.

The atmosphere was that of newlyweds toasting at their wedding.

I sat among the crowd, invisible—like a voyeur at my own betrayal.

Tears splashed into the wine glass in front of me. I wiped them away in secret, forcing myself to accept what I was seeing.

When I lifted my gaze, my eyes locked with a man sitting in the far corner.

I shook my head with a bitter smile. The ache in my chest spread, slow and relentless.

My sinuses burned until I couldn't breathe. I stumbled out of my chair and half-ran to the restroom.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror was haggard, hollowed out, barely recognizable. In that moment, everything I'd been holding together shattered.

Ten years—reduced to the cruelest joke.

I don't know how long I stayed in there. Eventually, I pulled myself together and headed for the door.

But the voices outside stopped me cold.

"Didn't you say you'd file for divorce after she had the baby? Why are you still dragging your feet?"

"Is it because she had a boy? Is that why you don't want to leave anymore?"