My husband, Damon Blackwood, told me he had azoospermia. He said he couldn’t have children. I believed him until his childhood sweetheart, Tiffany Sinclair, showed up five months pregnant.

She invited him to a maternity photo shoot. In the pictures she posted online, Damon stood behind her, his hand gently resting on her swollen belly, his expression tender and proud.

When I saw the post, I screamed. But Damon? He looked annoyed.

“She’s going to be single for life,” he said flatly. “She just wanted a child. I let her use my sperm. Don’t be so petty.”

Then he pinned the post to the top of his profile. His parents commented with hearts and praise. They even promised the woman a villa if she gave them a grandson.

Seeing that I was speechless, Damon scoffed, “Don’t be so unreasonable. My parents love children. They've watched Tiffany grow up, they just want to feel close to her. I don't have time for this. I'm hanging up.”

This man, He claimed he was broke, yet made me split the cost of condoms with him.

Meanwhile, Tiffany sent me a voice message, smug and syrupy, “Elena doesn’t know I’m rich. I’m just pretending to be poor to test her. Who knows if she’s only after my money?”

“But you’re different, Tiffany. I’m not pretending to you. You can buy Hermès bags whenever you want. I will always buy it for you”

I stared at the photo of her closet, overflowing with Hermès bags and laughed bitterly. Then I turned to the one man who had always tried to steal me from Damon. His best friend, Leo Carter.

“If you can get him to sign the divorce papers,” I said calmly,

“I’ll go with you to register our marriage tomorrow.”

——

Leo got my message and came running literally. He blew through five red lights to get to me.

When he arrived, he grabbed my hand, breathless and glowing. “Are you serious?” Before I could answer, he hooked his pinky with mine. “Cross my heart. It’s settled, then.”

He was giddy, like a man who’d finally won the lottery. “All that time I spent prying him away and chasing after you, it was worth it.”

I handed him the divorce agreement. “If you can get Damon to sign this, I’ll marry you the next day. I’m not joking.” Leo grinned. “Leave it to me. Just have your ID ready I’ll handle the rest.”

That evening, I returned home. The moment I pushed open the door, I froze. My things had been packed up and dumped outside.

A designer pajama set I didn’t recognize hung neatly on my coat rack. My handbag? Tossed like trash, lying half-buried in the bin. Even my laptop was smeared with greasy crumbs and sticky stains.

“Is Elena Whitmore back?” Tiffany’s voice floated lazily from the living room. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching a short drama while stuffing her face with snacks.

When she noticed me, she gave a sweet, fake smile. “My house is being renovated,” she said innocently. “Damon said I could stay here for a while. You don’t mind, do you?”

I said nothing. Just took out some tissues and began wiping my laptop clean. My expression faltered. I pouted and sniffled. My eyes welling with tears.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to mess up your laptop. The baby’s been making me really hungry lately. I just couldn’t help myself...”

She rubbed her swollen belly like it was some kind of trophy. But her gesture burned my eyes.

“You don’t need to apologize,” came a cold voice.

Damon walked in, frowning at me. “It’s just a little mess. You can clean it up later.”

He turned to me with a hint of annoyance. “Elena, your room gets the best sunlight. Let Tiffany stay there. She needs natural light for the baby.”

I looked at him in stunned disbelief. “Damon… do you even remember whose house this is?”

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Of course I do. But Tiffany’s house is under renovation. She’s just staying here temporarily. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re not really going to argue with a pregnant woman over a room, are you?”

I let out a cold laugh and stood up. “Damon, don’t forget, this is the house I bought. You didn’t contribute a single cent. Even if you're just staying here temporarily, it’s still my home. You need my permission.”

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “And haven’t I just asked for it?”

But when he saw my luggage stacked neatly by the door, clearly signaling I had no intention of surrendering my room, his face twisted in frustration.

“A shabby little apartment and you treat it like it’s some priceless treasure,” he muttered. “If I weren’t testing you, do you think I’d leave my villa just to live in this dump?”

I shot him a cold glare. He had finally dropped the act. The truth had come out in Tiffany’s voice message, deliberately sent to provoke me:

“Elena doesn’t know I’m a rich kid. Pretending to be poor is just a test to see if she’s after my money.”

“I’m not done playing yet. I don’t want to be tied down with a kid. Elena can stay as the backup plan.”

Only then did I realize, Damon had been pretending to be poor all these years. Even his supposed infertility was just a convenient excuse. He was afraid I’d get pregnant and trap him. The weight of it all suddenly hit me like a wave.

“Damon Blackwood!” I said, voice firm and steady. “Let’s get a divorce.”

He froze, visibly stunned. “Elena, what nonsense are you spouting now?”

Then came the mockery. “Is this some kind of early menopause? Is that why you act so crazy every day? I’ve already told you, Tiffany and I are just childhood friends. There’s nothing between us. Can you please stop overthinking everything?”

He smirked. His words dripped with sarcasm. “And don’t forget, you were the one who begged to marry me. And now you want to walk away? Just like that? Can you really let go?”

His tone was cold, his eyes filled with disdain. And yes, it was true. I had once pursued Damon.

I still remembered that day a thief had snatched my bag and he had appeared like a hero, chasing him down. He told me he was poor, but I didn’t care.

I gave up everything to be with him. To preserve his pride, I downplayed my own background.

I gave up my villa, moved into a modest city apartment and told him I bought it with years of savings.

He believed me. I thought it brought us closer. But then, one night at a bar, I overheard him in a private room with his friends.

“Elena used up half her savings just to buy a house and marry me,” he said, laughing. “Didn’t even ask for a dowry. Women like that are rare these days.”

One friend asked, “She seems to really love you. How long are you planning to string her along?”

Another chimed in, “A test is fine, but if you push too far, you might destroy something genuine.”

Damon just shrugged. “I’ll play around for another couple of years, then maybe stop.”

“I told her I have azoospermia and need treatment, so I can’t have kids yet. Truth is, I just don’t want to be tied down.”

Hearing those words made my whole body tremble with rage. This was the man who had vowed at our wedding to love me for life. Who had promised to build a home and have children with me.

Every word and every promise had been a lie. I came down from the study, holding the divorce agreement.

“Sign it,” I said coldly. Damon didn’t even look at it. Instead, he used the papers to support Tiffany, helping her to her feet.

“Tiffany, the floor’s cold. Don’t walk around barefoot.”

Tiffany had just finished whining about her stomachache and Damon had spent the entire day lounging in the living room with her, watching TV, massaging her belly, keeping her warm.

As if I were nothing but an intruder in my own home.

He dared to call it a pure childhood friendship. Only a fool would believe that. Tiffany’s eyes were still red from her crocodile tears as she looked at me with feigned innocence.

“Half-Summer Sister, please don’t get a divorce because of me and Damon. That would make me feel like a homewrecker.” She sniffled and added softly, “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll move out today…”

She made a show of standing up, pretending to go pack her things. But before she could take more than two steps, Damon stopped her without hesitation.

“Tiffany, ignore her. Just stay and be comfortable here.” His voice was gentle, doting.

“You’re not married and there’s no one to look after you. What if you fall sick again like last time with morning sickness?”

The pity in his eyes wasn’t for her. It was for me. As if I were some pitiful, bitter joke.

I turned away, walked to the bathroom. And the moment I pushed open the door, splash!

A bucket of icy cold water drenched me from head to toe.

Laughter erupted outside.

“Haha! I knew Elena would fall for it!” Damon was bent over, laughing so hard he could barely stand.

“Elena, look at yourself—you’re so stupid!”

Only then did I realize someone had balanced a basin full of water on the bathroom door waiting for me. Tiffany, her red eyes still wet from her earlier tears, was now laughing so hard that new ones streamed down her cheeks.

“Half-Summer Sister, don’t be mad,” she giggled. “Damon noticed you’ve been in a bad mood lately, so he thought this would cheer you up. You’re not seriously going to get angry again over something so small, are you?”

I clenched my fists so tightly, my nails dug into my palms. The humiliation was unbearable shattering what little pride I had left.

Damon’s smile faltered when he saw my red-rimmed eyes. Realizing he’d gone too far, he approached me with a nervous expression.

“Elena, don’t cry.” He held out a tissue awkwardly. “You used to be able to take a joke. It’s just a bit of water. Go change your clothes.”

The more he spoke, the harder my tears fell. Panicked, Damon reached out to hug me. I stepped back, curling my lips coldly.

“Damon, don’t touch me. You disgust me.”

His face darkened. “What did you say?” Anger flickered in his eyes.

“Say that again? I’ve already told you, Tiffany and I are innocent!”

“She doesn’t even believe in marriage,” he added desperately, “She’s a non-marriage advocate!”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Innocent?” I spat. “If she’s so against marriage, why did she borrow your sperm to have a baby instead of anyone else’s? Can you explain that, Damon?”

I’d had enough of his lies. “If you’re really innocent, then go tell her to abort the baby. Do that and I’ll believe you.”

His face turned ghostly pale. Rage and shame twisted his features. “Elena, stop being unreasonable!”

“I told you this child is Tiffany’s. It has nothing to do with me. I have no right to interfere in her decision!”

Suddenly, Tiffany dropped to her knees in front of me, her face a portrait of panic.

“Elena, I went through so much just to conceive this child. She’s my life. Please don’t be so cruel…”

Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed, looking utterly pitiful. To anyone watching, it would seem like I was the heartless villain.

“Enough!”

Damon lost patience and scooped her up in his arms.

“You just don’t want to give up the room, do you? Fine, we’ll leave. I’ll take Tiffany somewhere else.”

He shot me one last, icy glare before the door slammed shut behind him.

The sound of their retreating footsteps echoed through the silence. I stared at the disheveled room.

Then, as if all the strength drained from my body, I collapsed onto the floor.

When I finally pulled myself together, the first thing I did was take down our wedding photo from the wall. Without hesitation, I shredded it to pieces with a pair of scissors.

This relationship had been built on nothing but lies, betrayal and humiliation. It was time to let it burn.