The day my son was discharged from the hospital.

As soon as we walked through the door, Daniel Carter announced that, for our sake, he was going to quit his ten-year smoking habit.

Looking at the pile of empty cigarette packs stacked high in the trash can, I felt no joy—only a cold determination.

Instead, I stared at him with a stern face and told him I wanted a divorce.

He was speechless, then furious, accusing me of making trouble out of nothing:

“Emily Parker, are you out of your mind? Haven’t you been nagging me for years to quit smoking? And now you’re throwing a fit because I finally did?”

“Have you ever once thought about our son?” I sneered.

“Or have you already forgotten why he ended up in the hospital in the first place?”

His only response was slamming the door on his way out.

In my arms, my son Ethan stirred awake from his nap, his voice thick with congestion:

“Mom, didn’t Dad say he’d come pick me up when I left the hospital? Why didn’t I see him when we got home?”

A bitter ache welled up inside me.

From the moment Ethan was admitted, Daniel had been perpetually “too busy”—always away on business trips or rushing to catch flights.

I called him countless times, but he never once picked up.

The only time he ever called me, it was to ask about the company. He tossed in a half-hearted, “I’ll come pick Ethan up when he’s discharged,” and hung up.

Ethan had clung to those words as if they were gospel. If not for that expectation, he wouldn’t have been too excited to sleep last night, and he wouldn’t be struggling to keep his little eyes open now.

But Daniel hadn’t spared his son even a glance before storming out.

“Mom, where’s Dad?” Ethan pressed again.

I had no answer for him. Children remembered every promise, while adults discarded theirs as soon as they became inconvenient.

Daniel was sick of me now. Long gone was the man who once knelt outside my parents’ home for three days and nights, begging me to marry him.

“Emily, if you’ll agree to be my wife, I’ll treat you like gold. You’ve got allergies—I’ll quit smoking, I swear I won’t let you suffer a single sneeze. You’re the Parker family’s princess, and even in the Carter family, you’ll never lift a finger to do rough work.”

Back then, in New York City, the Carters were far beneath the Parkers in status. My family had already arranged a proper match for me.

But I was foolish, swept away by Daniel’s sweet words. I made the reckless mistake of getting pregnant before marriage.

The Parker Family cast me aside, and I married Daniel as I wished—only for him to show his true colors.

During my pregnancy, he smoked incessantly, without restraint. Our son was born with asthma.

This last hospitalization was again triggered by Daniel’s smoking.

He finally agreed to quit—but I knew it wasn’t for me or Ethan. It was for someone else.

…

It didn’t take long for me to meet the young woman he was doting on in his office.

One evening, after putting Ethan to sleep, I walked into the bedroom only to find the two of them collapsed on my bed.

She was a college senior, about to graduate. Her name was Sophia Miller.

Even though I hadn’t set foot in the company for years, I knew her name well.

Like me, she had allergies and couldn’t tolerate smoke.

For her, Daniel never smoked in the office. He even banned smoking company-wide, despite knowing some of the major shareholders were smokers.

I remembered the times I’d nearly suffocated after walking in on shareholders smoking, only for Daniel to scold me for “causing trouble at the office.”

But now? All his rare indulgence was reserved for Sophia.

And that delicate, contrived voice of hers—I knew it all too well.

Over the past few months, whenever I called Daniel, the calls went unanswered.

And when they weren’t, she was the one picking up, relaying excuses on his behalf:

“Mr. Carter just stepped into the shower and isn’t out yet… Mr. Carter just fell asleep, maybe you can call again in the morning…”

Those boundary-crossing words slipped off her tongue as if they were perfectly natural.

Even now, I still marveled at how thick-skinned some people could be.

And just like this moment, when she saw me, she immediately jumped up, feigning innocence:

“Emily, don’t misunderstand. Daniel was drunk and didn’t know who he was with—he only clung to me, so I had no choice but to bring him back.”

But my eyes were locked on Daniel’s hand, gripping hers tightly.

Her hands were soft and delicate. Mine—those of the official Mrs. Carter—were calloused from years of toil.

Like my marriage, my hands had become unrecognizable.

When I stayed silent, she pressed on, emboldened:

“Honestly, Emily, you’re the one at fault. Ethan’s health isn’t good, and as his mother you should be more attentive. Daniel’s always traveling, and yet you keep calling nonstop. Luckily, I stopped the calls—otherwise, you’d have woken him up.”

At some point Ethan had woken up and ran straight over, yelling at her:

“You bad woman! Don’t take Dad away and make Mom sad!”

I instinctively reached for him, but I was a step too late.

The next second, Ethan was shoved hard to the ground. He fell sideways, a massive lump already swelling on his head.

Before Ethan could even cry, Sophia burst into tears first.

As I rushed to scoop up my son, a stinging slap landed across my face.

“You can’t even raise a child properly, Emily. What good are you for anything?”

I froze. In six years of marriage, this was the first time Daniel had ever hit me.

When Sophia taunted me, he stayed asleep.

When Ethan was shoved to the ground, he stayed asleep.

But the moment Sophia faked tears, he sobered right up.

And his first words upon waking were to condemn me.

Ethan was so stunned he forgot his own pain:

“Dad, how could you hit Mom?”

Daniel brushed it off, scolding instead:

“Look at Sophia’s leg! Do you see what happened to her?”

Following his gaze, I saw the red mark on Sophia’s thigh—bright and swollen. Yet I knew Ethan hadn’t even touched her skirt.

How could a five-year-old possibly cause such an injury?

It was blatant framing.

Ethan sniffled, trying to defend himself, but Daniel only caressed Sophia’s leg with concern.

I couldn’t bear Ethan’s hurt:

“He’s only five years old. How could he lie?”

Daniel didn’t even lift his eyelids:

“Like mother, like son. You lie constantly—of course he learned it from you.”

Speechless with rage, I held Ethan up to him:

“Daniel, open your eyes and look! Your son’s injured, and you still refuse to tell right from wrong?”

He blinked, but his tone stayed firm:

“Who knows if he didn’t fall on purpose just to frame Sophia?”

“That’s right,” Sophia added softly, her voice fragile,

“Emily, I know you dislike me, but you shouldn’t say such things in front of a child. If it’s my fault, I’ll admit it. But you can’t make accusations without proof.”

I laughed coldly and pointed to the wall.

“Who says I don’t have proof?”

There, a small camera blinked.

It was a camera I had installed long ago to keep an eye on Ethan when he was little. Later, after he moved into his own room, I’d forgotten to take it down.

At that moment, Sophia started crying again:

“If Emily says it’s my fault, then it’s my fault. I never should’ve been here.”

Daniel’s heart ached instantly. He turned to scold me:

“It’s nothing but a trivial matter. Do you have to nitpick endlessly? Emily, you’re becoming more and more unbearable.”

I ignored him and pulled up the footage.

The video showed everything clearly: Sophia had pinched her own thigh red before Ethan even touched her. And she had deliberately pushed him to the ground, injuring his forehead.

I shoved the phone toward their faces. Sophia’s eyes reddened instantly as she scrambled for an excuse:

“It’s not like that!” she cried, leaning pitifully into Daniel’s arms.

“Daniel, I didn’t mean to. I must have just panicked…”

Daniel gently cut her off:

“Don’t be afraid, Sophia. I believe you. This isn’t your fault. If Ethan hadn’t run out, none of this would’ve happened.”

In the next moment, my phone was knocked from my hand. The screen shattered, the video disappearing into a black void.

His face was as dark as his voice:

“What’s there to see? At the end of the day, it’s your fault, Emily, for not controlling the child.”

“If you’d done your job, none of this would’ve happened.”

I laughed—an untimely, bitter laugh.

How foolish of me, thinking I could expect fairness from Daniel.

Thinking he might one day bow his head and apologize.

Maybe my laugh sounded too strange, because Daniel’s tone softened for the first time:

“Emily, I…”

But before he could finish, Sophia cut in.

She dropped to her knees in front of me, slapping her own face repeatedly:

“Emily, it’s all my fault! Please, hit me instead! It’s all my fault…”

Daniel exploded in anger again:

“Emily, haven’t you had enough? Haven’t you had enough already?”

When word spread that I wanted a divorce, everyone urged me not to.

Even my mother took Daniel’s side:

“The child’s already so big—what’s the point of causing a scene now?”

“You insisted on marrying him back then, and now you want to leave?”

“Don’t you realize the Parker and Carter families are tied together with so many business deals? If you file for divorce, both families will be in chaos!”

The very woman who once opposed Daniel the most had now become his advocate, every word blaming me for being unreasonable.

Yes, Daniel was no longer the man he once was.

After our marriage, I handed over all my savings to invest in his company.

In six years, the Carter Family’s business had flourished so much that even the Parker Family sought their cooperation.

Daniel no longer needed to humble himself.

The one left groveling was me.

When I stayed silent, my mother pressed on:

“Men are like this. As long as he maintains appearances, you’re still Mrs. Carter. So what if he has a few women on the side?”

“As long as there aren’t any illegitimate children, all of Carter’s assets will still go to Ethan in the end. Just endure it—what harm will it do you?”

Finally, I laughed bitterly.

Endure?

How much more was I supposed to endure?

Hadn’t six years been enough?

Still, my mother nagged:

“Men value their reputation above all. Why did you have to cause such a scandal that day?”

A scandal? What scandal?

All that came of it was Sophia fainting, and then everything swept under the rug.