My husband had been feeling unwell recently, so I took him to a medicine clinic run by a longtime friend for a physical check-up. After carefully taking both our pulses, my friend advised us not to overwork ourselves and to get more rest. Then, he asked to speak to me alone. He asked if I had reconsidered the decision to continue living as a DINK—double income, no kids.

I told him firmly that I hadn’t changed my mind. I never really wanted children. The main reason was Ethan Quinn’s injury ten years ago. The accident damaged his lower body so severely that he became permanently infertile. Because of that, I even volunteered to have a vasectomy. The scar is still visible.

So when my friend mentioned, almost casually, that Ethan had recently bought dydrogesterone tablets from him, I froze. My heart dropped. No matter how naive I might have been, I knew what dydrogesterone was: a hormone medication used to support pregnancy, often prescribed to prevent miscarriage. It’s definitely an abortion-preserving drug.

At first, I thought maybe my friend had made a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t my husband after all. But then I saw it—on my husband’s social media while he was abroad—a photo of a happy family of four. The kind of photo I would never have imagined existed. It hit me like a bolt of lightning: I had been betrayed.

——

I scrolled through Ethan’s Twitter, unable to stop. Among hundreds of selfies, almost half were with another woman. The account was seven years old. Then, about six years ago, two new “family members” appeared in the album—twins, a boy and a girl, who were now over five years old. Both children resembled the woman in the photos.

The latest family photo was taken only three months ago. I remember him telling me he was going abroad for an important project training. To protect him from gossip or misunderstandings, I had even taken the initiative to undergo surgery to avoid any rumors about my fertility. But now I knew—he had two children abroad all along. And with the woman’s current pregnancy, he is the father of three kids?

I laughed bitterly, feeling like a fool who had been played from the start. Just then, Ethan’s Twitter updated again. A new photo appeared—him gently caressing the woman’s belly, his smile full of joy. The caption read simply: “eternal happiness.”

Anger surged through me. My head throbbed with the pounding of my veins. I grabbed my phone and called him immediately.

“Don’t you know I’m in a meeting? Talk later.” The call was cut off before I could say a word.

Before, he would always ask what was wrong, no matter how busy he was. But that was ten years ago. After graduating from college, I turned down lucrative offers from Fortune 500 companies to marry Ethan. I stood by his side as he grew his family’s fortune from tens of millions to billions. I gave up my career for him.

Now, when I think about it, I wonder: was it worth it?

I called again, my voice trembling with pain.

“Claire Mitchell, are you sick? I told you I’m in a meeting!” he snapped.

“Where are you? The assistant never mentioned a meeting today.”

There was a long silence. Then he answered coldly, “At Hawthorne Tower. If you have any questions, say them all now.”

“I—” I tried to speak, but the call ended again.

Looking at our photo on my phone, I realized this relationship would never be the same again.

When I arrived at Hawthorne Tower, I saw his Ferrari parked outside. The woman from the photos was there, wearing a low-cut dress, delicate and much younger than me. The two of them flirted openly in the car before disappearing inside together.

I slumped against a nearby wall, overwhelmed. I wanted to confront them, to scream, to cry. But I held back. I knew that no matter how much I wanted to lash out, it wouldn’t change anything. The wounds between us weren’t just about this betrayal—they ran deeper, built over years of lies and broken trust.

I realized that if there was any hope left, it would come only through calm, honest conversation. But after everything, could we even find that?

I pretended I saw nothing, knocked lightly on the door, and walked into the office.

Ethan greeted me with a gentle smile. “You really came? Sorry about earlier—the meeting was important, so I was a little harsh on you. I won’t do that again.”

“It’s fine. Just do whatever you want,” I said quietly, trying to keep my emotions in check.

Usually, when I saw that familiar crescent-shaped smile of his, my resistance would crumble. No matter what we argued about, I’d always be the first to give in and make peace. But today, something was different. I couldn’t bring myself to surrender.

Noticing my cold attitude, Ethan frowned. “I already apologized. You’re not really going to be petty about this, are you?”

I looked at him directly. “No woman would be so broad-minded as to allow her husband to have other women on the side, right?”

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he reached out and gently touched my cheek. “Claire, have you heard any rumors?”

“You have to believe me—I only love you,” he added, his voice soft and full of sincerity.

I wanted to laugh bitterly. How many times had I believed those words? But now, I feel utterly helpless. If I hadn’t seen the proof with my own eyes, I might have believed his lies again.

Without a word, he took out his phone, flipped to a photo, and placed it on the table in front of me.

I looked at the photo calmly. “Anything else you want to say? I’m listening.”

I expected panic, maybe some hesitation, but Ethan remained calm, almost too calm.

He glanced at the photo and said casually, “I was going to tell you in a few days, but I guess you already know.”

“Tell me what? Do you have another woman? And even children with her?” My voice cracked with disbelief.

Ten years ago, I had willingly undergone surgery to give him a vasectomy scar. I gave up everything for him, sacrificing my body and future. And now, he treated it like it was nothing.

Ethan continued, “I’m doing this for our future. So, are you blaming me?”

“For us?” I laughed bitterly, stunned by his audacity.

“Yes. Her name is Vanessa Clarke, CEO of Sterling Pacific Group. We met six years ago.”

“If you want to cooperate with Moriyo, you have to get through her first. Is there anything wrong with sacrificing yourself for the sake of profit?”

“If I hadn’t signed that contract with Moriyo, the company would have gone under long ago.”

Sterling? I stared at him in disbelief, suspicion rising in my chest.

Before I could say a word, he interrupted, “Anyway, I’m injured and can’t have children, so I agreed to stay with her one night.”

“Maybe she was a blessing from God. She gave me twins—a boy and a girl.”

I looked at Ethan’s surprised, almost proud expression, but inside, my heart was bleeding.

How could he speak so casually about something so devastating?

“The boy’s name is Caleb Quinn, and the girl’s Chloe Quinn. They’re really well-behaved and sensible children.”

“In the future, I’ll change my daughter’s surname to Mitchell. She’ll be our child.”

That “our” sounded so ridiculous. How could he expect me to accept such a thing?

“You have a woman on the side and children with her, and now you want me to raise them?”

I wasn’t sure if I understood him correctly, but it sounded like he wanted me to continue living with him and raise these children as if they were mine.

“So what am I to you?” My voice grew heavier, filled with pain and anger.

Seeing my tone, Ethan tried to comfort me patiently. “Claire, I know it will be hard for you to accept at first. But it’s okay. I’ll wait until you come around.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Do you really think I’ll accept this?”

In that moment, I realized how despicable my life had become.

Everything I had done for him, every sacrifice I had made, had turned into a cruel joke.

Maybe he was confident in his love for me, but I wasn’t.

I picked up my phone and typed coldly, “No. I don’t deserve this.”

I lowered the phone, staring blankly at the screen. The weight of betrayal pressed down on me like a suffocating fog. For years, I had convinced myself that love, loyalty, and sacrifice would hold us together. But now, those promises were shattered, replaced by a cruel reality I couldn’t ignore.

I thought of the twins—Caleb Quinn and Chloe Quinn. Innocent children born from deceit, their existence a sharp reminder of everything I had lost.

My heart ached not just for myself but for the family we could have been. For the future that was stolen.

I had been willing to give everything to Ethan—my body, my dreams, my identity. But he had never truly been mine.

The room felt cold and empty, despite the warmth of his presence. And I knew, with painful certainty, that nothing would ever be the same again.

Ethan suddenly grew angry, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“Are you done causing trouble? Or do you really think Vanessa can replace you in my heart?”

Vanessa—that intimate name, stung like a sharp knife.

For the past ten years, I have given everything to our family and the company. But it seemed he hadn’t noticed a thing.

I nodded slowly, a bitter smile curling on my lips. “Alright. If none of this has anything to do with me anymore, then let’s get a divorce.”

From the day we met until now, I have never once brought up breaking up or divorce during an argument. I’ve always been rational—never treating such things lightly. But this time, the thought surfaced, gripping my heart tightly. Maybe, for once, I was allowing myself to be childish.

I caught a flicker of regret flash across Ethan’s face. I knew he still cared for me.

But instead of holding on, Ethan sneered after only a moment’s pause. “Divorce? Don’t be ridiculous. How could you live without me?”

“If our family hadn’t agreed to this marriage, you’d probably still be sweeping streets somewhere, right?”

That was his usual tactic whenever we argued—belittling me for marrying into wealth, mocking my abilities, and worth.

In the past, I’d felt inferior because of it. But this time, something was different.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if I did sweep streets, it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Claire!” Ethan shouted, his glare sharp enough to turn heads. Employees outside the office stopped what they were doing and stared.

In the company, except for the R&D team I lead, most people regarded me with suspicion. Being labeled a gold digger felt harsh, like calling me shameless.

I’d grown used to it, tolerating it all for my husband’s sake. But now I realize—blind tolerance only made him bolder and more aggressive.

Suddenly, his tone softened, and his gaze became gentler.

“Vanessa, I know it’s hard for you to accept this. But believe me, from now on, it will be just you and me. No other women.”

I didn’t know the real story between him and Vanessa, but I wasn’t a fool.

Seeing their intimate moments in the car, right from the street below, I knew it wasn’t just business.

Yet, here he was, looking at me with tears in his eyes. Was his reluctance to leave just an act?

“I want to go home and calm down.”

Without another word, I left, feeling the weight of the employees’ judgmental stares on my back.

At home, I grabbed some beer and sat alone on the balcony, letting the bitterness wash over me. I didn’t know when I drifted off to sleep.

I vaguely sensed someone covering me with a blanket.

When I woke, Ethan was watching me with a soft smile.

“Awake? You don’t usually drink, but this time you really went all in.”

He handed me a small bottle. “Here, this is some hangover medicine I got for you.”

For a moment, I was dazed—like like Ethan from ten years ago had come back.

I noticed the apron he wore and glanced toward the kitchen, hearing faint noises.

He was cooking.

Seasonings spilled across the stove proved it was really him.

In ten years, he had never cooked for himself. His poor self-care meant I always took care of his meals, clothes, and everything else.

I had done it all meticulously, treating him as my greatest love.

As I hesitated, his phone suddenly rang.

Seeing the caller ID, I was surprised when he answered immediately.

“Already there? Wait a minute, I’ll go open the door.”