Sophia Palmer fired back, "Even if Dillon Palmer doesn't love me, so what? My name is right there next to his on our marriage certificate. Legally, I'm his wife, which means you have to call me Mrs. Palmer."

How had it come to this? Sophia was supposed to be easily controlled, not someone who could stand her ground. Carolina Lopez had expected to find Sophia in misery and despair, but instead, she was left feeling humiliated.

Carolina clenched her jaw. "But I'm the one he loves. We've been together for a year. He'll be with me at Thanksgiving, making pies, and creating romantic moments on Valentine's Day. He’ll be holding my hand as we stroll through town, catching a movie, and building snowmen with me during the winter. Every holiday, he showers me with gifts and even gave me a supplementary platinum card. I doubt he ever did that for you."

"As far as I know, you barely see him a few times a year. When you truly love someone, you make time for them no matter how busy you are."

He was busy every day, yet he found time for romantic escapades with his lover. It made sense; after all, the woman in front of her looked so much like Anne, someone Dillon had once gone to great lengths for.

With Sophia, he was miserly, not even sparing her a smile.

"If you're just here to brag, I've dealt with too many women like you. You all say the same things; it gets old."

"Oh, and Miss Lopez, since you're in the public eye, maybe you should keep a lower profile. Unless, of course, you have skin as thick as a castle wall."

Sophia's next words left Carolina speechless.

"Of course, if you believe love justifies intruding on someone else's marriage, why not declare it openly here?"

Judging by Carolina's expression, Sophia already knew the outcome. She pulled some hundred-dollar bills from her wallet and placed them on the table. "The coffee's on me. Enjoy."

"No need to thank me—after all, it's our shared money, community property."

Sophia stood and smiled. "Quick tip: I have the right to take you to court to reclaim everything Dillon's given you, including that card. So, when you see me, you might want to tread lightly, unless you plan to lose it all."

Dillon wouldn’t give her a dime, yet he lavished it on his mistress. It was infuriating! She wasn’t planning to go to court; she just wanted to scare Carolina a bit.

The nerve—being so bold while knowingly being the 'other woman'—was disgusting. But Sophia knew Carolina wouldn’t dare mention this to Dillon.

Carolina, a superstar, had never been insulted like this before. She believed she was the only one worthy of a man as exceptional as Dillon.

As Sophia turned to leave, Carolina called out, "I'm carrying Dillon's child."

"We just picked up the report from the clinic."

She'd been visiting because one of Dillon's business partners had a mother who adored her work and wanted to meet her in the hospital. As long as Sophia believed her, that was all that mattered.

Sophia pressed her nails into her arm to stop herself from breaking down. Dillon having a child with someone else was a crushing blow.

After leaving the café, she collapsed to the ground, breathless, as if no amount of air could ease the weight in her chest. Sharp pains seized her abdomen, pulling her further into darkness.

When she awoke, she was in a hospital. A nurse quickly stopped her from getting up. "Stay still and rest. You passed out at the mall and were brought in."

"We're giving you an IV now; you can leave later. Be careful in the future. You're two months pregnant, and it's not stable yet. I suggest visiting the OB-GYN for some medication."

Sophia quickly grabbed the nurse's arm. "What did you say? Two months? Are you saying I'm pregnant?"

"You're two months along. Didn't you know?"

She was pregnant! She was going to be a mom. Sophia couldn’t help but grin widely, the nurse sharing in her excitement. "Yes, do tell the baby’s father. He'll be thrilled."

The nurse's words poured cold water on Sophia’s joy. Dillon would never let her have this child. Three years ago, he had said she would never be the mother of his kids, and if she became pregnant, he'd force her to have an abortion. Dillon must never know about the pregnancy.

She left the emergency room in a daze, her mind a chaotic whirl, and found herself at her father's hospital room without realizing it.

Inside, Evelyn James was talking to Samuel Palmer.

"I just saw an article saying Dillon's been spending time with a young actress, barely coming home."

"Sophia keeps saying he's busy at work, but it seems he's busy with women instead. If this goes on, Sophia could easily lose her place to another woman."

"You should tell Sophia to secure more money for herself. Why let some vixen benefit? After all, who stood by Dillon when he nearly went bankrupt three years ago? It was only Sophia."

Evelyn was relentless, and Samuel snapped, "Quiet."

"Don’t bring this up in front of Sophia."

"She’s had a tough time these years."

The conversation continued, but Sophia no longer had the strength to push open the door. Her father had known all along; he had seen right through her.

Over the years, she had painted Dillon as caring and considerate to her father, who listened with a soft smile. Slowly, she had come to believe the lie herself, a fantasy she clung to for strength.

But illusions shattered inevitably, just like their marriage, which was nothing more than a mirage.

Sophia pressed her hand against her stomach. Though only two months along, she could somehow sense the tiny life growing within.

It was strange. Normally, she would be devastated by what she’d heard. But today, an inexplicable force seemed to bolster her.

She looked down tenderly at her belly.

“Don’t worry, little one. Mommy won't let anything happen to you. No one will take you away from me.”

In that moment, Sophia made the decision to divorce Dillon Palmer.

Sophia Palmer had just left the hospital when members of the Palmer family whisked her away to their ancestral estate.

Upon entering, she spotted Mrs. Palmer seated prominently at the head of the table. Approaching eighty, she was still full of vitality. Next to her sat Dillon Palmer, whose mere presence invoked a tremor of fear within Sophia. Her hand instinctively touched her abdomen, a silent assurance to herself—Dillon wouldn't find out.

Mrs. Palmer saw Sophia hovering by the entrance and beckoned her over with a warm smile. "Sophia, come sit by me."

Sophia opted to sit across from Mrs. Palmer, deliberately keeping her distance from Dillon. Settling in, she heard Dillon's derisive chuckle, imagining the expression that accompanied it. He probably thinks I convinced Grandma to call him over, she mused.

"Why didn’t you sit next to Dillon? Has he upset you? No wonder he seemed a bit unsure when I mentioned bringing you over," Mrs. Palmer noted, glancing at Dillon before gently taking Sophia’s hand. "Sophia, don't stay mad at Dillon. He’s such a workaholic, always prioritizing the company and jetting around the world. I've told him to make sure to spend at least one week a month with you."

"See, Dillon does care about you. Just look at all these gifts he brought back from his business trips," Mrs. Palmer pointed to an array of presents on the table. Sophia knew these were mere props for Mrs. Palmer’s benefit. Only during visits to the estate was she "showered" with such gifts.

"Go ahead, open them up and see if they’re to your liking."

Encouraged by Mrs. Palmer, Sophia began unwrapping the gifts one by one. Perfume, jewelry, handbags—typical choices intended for women, yet impersonal. It was evident Dillon's assistant had selected them based on popular trends, none of which matched her preferences.

"They’re lovely," she lied with sincerity.

Though the gifts weren't her taste, she tried to find contentment in the gesture from someone she had once loved dearly. She reminded herself not to ask for more than proximity to him.

Dillon's smirk radiated contempt. So shallow! As long as it’s pricey, she'll love it, right? He thought she was materialistic and sitting with Grandma was just a ploy to undermine him. This woman grows more conniving by the day.

Satisfied, Mrs. Palmer clasped their hands together. Sophia felt Dillon’s firm, warm grasp, offering a strange sense of solace. So this is what it feels like to hold his hand, she reflected. Yet, Dillon withdrew quickly, revealing a flash of disdain and revulsion. He never allowed contact outside the realm of necessity.

"Grandma, we should start dinner," Dillon reminded, prompting Mrs. Palmer to notice how late the hour had grown. "Yes, yes, Dillon is always so thoughtful, making sure Sophia doesn’t go hungry."

The meal was extravagant, with an array of roasted meats and vegetables, but Sophia's appetite was lacking. Suddenly, a piece of pulled pork was placed in her bowl—Dillon’s doing. Noticing Mrs. Palmer’s approving glance, Sophia realized Dillon was once again performing for the family's benefit. Every visit was a charade of perfect coupledom. Usually, she'd play along, but now the sight of meat churned her stomach. She couldn't manage even a taste. The aroma alone was overwhelming.

Sophia pushed the meat aside and forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

"Sophia, is the food not to your liking?" Mrs. Palmer inquired with concern.

Afraid that her pregnancy might be uncovered, Sophia replied quickly, "No, I just ate quite a bit before coming, so I'm not very hungry now."

"I'll have someone in the kitchen prepare some ginger tea for you then."

Once Mrs. Palmer left, Dillon's voice turned scornful again. "Always putting on a performance, aren’t you?" he remarked, setting down his fork, his words biting. "Refusing to eat what I served you—looking to get Grandma on your side?"

"I didn’t mean it like that... Ugh..." Sophia tried to hold back her nausea, but the intense smell at the table was too much. She couldn’t contain it and was visibly distressed.

She glanced anxiously at Dillon, but he seemed indifferent, continuing with more ridicule. "What now, pretending to be pregnant? Again?"

His words sent a chill down Sophia’s spine, as if her heart was being squeezed by invisible hands. "I'm not pregnant," she managed to say, her voice strained.

"If you were, I’d personally escort you to the clinic and make sure it’s taken care of."

Three years ago, when they discovered Sophia's pregnancy was false, they also learned she had nearly no chance of conceiving. Dillon had no reason to be concerned.

His mocking smile was a reminder of how cruelly he’d reveled in her despair back then. She had genuinely thought she was pregnant and couldn't understand why her test results had been tampered with, but he dismissed her pleas, calling it well-deserved.

Soon, Grandma returned with the tea, which Sophia drank with a visible effort. After dinner, Grandma insisted they stay overnight.

Sophia, filled with trepidation, contemplated how to broach the topic of divorce with Dillon. From the moment she discovered her pregnancy, she'd considered it. Dillon’s words earlier had cemented her decision to leave.

Abruptly, the door slammed shut, and Dillon threw her onto the bed. His muscular frame towered over her, pulling her blouse up to expose her smooth stomach.

Sophia’s face blanched with fear as she struggled frantically, "No, get off me." Her mind was consumed with worry for her baby.

"No one’s here now, so why pretend? If you love putting on a show, why not become an actress?" he taunted, his words venomous even as he engaged with her intimately.

"Sophia, what's gotten into you? You actually bit me," Dillon Palmer shouted, trying to peel off Sophia's clothes while wincing from the sharp pain in his wrist where she had bitten him. Blood oozed from the wound.

Fuming with anger, he was all set to teach Sophia a lesson, but she had already broken free from his hold, hands protectively covering her belly. Her eyes, usually gentle and inviting, were now fierce with defiance and a hint of fear. Her lips quivered slightly, enhancing her fragile appearance, yet there was an undeniable strength in her eyes.

Somehow, Dillon's raised hand fell to his side, his face still twisted with anger, but his fury beginning to fade. "Sophia, I'm giving you one more chance: either stay or leave!"

Instead of striking her, as he'd seemed ready to do, he vented his frustration by hurling a pillow across the room. The action startled Sophia; he was not known for reining in his emotions.

Warmth spread through her palm, as if the life growing within her gave her strength. Taking a deep breath, she faced Dillon, the man she once adored, and said, "Dillon Palmer, I want a divorce."

The words were a stab to her heart, and she couldn't help but hold his gaze, anticipating his agreement. He had always been eager to break away. "A divorce? Is this why Grandma had me come here? Sophia, what do you want now?" Dillon scoffed.

His grandmother had already tasked him with spending one weekend a month with Sophia. Wasn't that enough? What more could she possibly want? He had always known her desires to be endless.

Dillon doubted Sophia was serious about the divorce. He caught her yearning gaze and assumed she was bluffing.

"Yes, I admit it was me who asked Grandma to arrange your visit before," Sophia admitted. "We hadn't seen each other for half a year, and I missed you. You wouldn't answer my calls, and I was at a loss for what to do."

Hearing her admission, Dillon's face lit with a smug smile, as if he'd known all along. But as Sophia continued, his smile faded.

"But this time, I didn't know. I know you won't believe me, so let's just go to court tomorrow morning and file for divorce."

She wanted to end things cleanly, avoiding future regrets. Dillon seemed incredulous, "You really want a divorce?"

Sophia nodded, "I even brought my ID."

"So, are we going at eight tomorrow morning?"

Sophia locked eyes with him, eyes that shone with a determination she once had when she first poured out her heart under the moonlight. Back then, she promised she would only look at him, begging him not to reject her yet.

He hadn't turned her down then, and now he couldn't give an immediate answer. It was unsettling. He couldn't quite identify the irritation.

Then, noticing the anticipation on her face, he understood. Why should things always go her way? She wanted a divorce, and he wouldn’t stop her, but he wouldn’t make it simple either.

"My time is precious, and you don't deserve me wasting it."

"You want a divorce? Then wait for it!" Dillon wanted to leave her presence, even for a moment. He straightened his clothes and stormed out.

Inside, Sophia could hear Dillon's grandmother chastising him as he departed. Nothing went as she had hoped. Hadn't he always wanted the divorce? Now that she offered it, shouldn't he be jumping at the opportunity? Was he really that busy?

Her mind was a whirl of questions, keeping her awake all night.

The next morning, she looked drained. Dillon's grandmother assumed she was distressed by his sudden exit and comforted her for a long time, promising he'd be with her next time.

Sophia knew there wouldn't be a next time. She didn't want to dismiss the elderly woman's kindness; she had always been good to Sophia.

After leaving the family estate, Sophia called Dillon's assistant, Julian, trying to sneakily inquire about Dillon's schedule. She wanted to finalize the divorce before her pregnancy became obvious. But Julian, as usual, was unyielding, and Sophia hung up feeling frustrated.

Later that afternoon, her friend Mara brought some promising news: a producer was interested in her TV series script and wanted to meet her for dinner that evening to discuss it.

At eight, Sophia arrived at the venue Mara had texted her, hesitating as she looked up at the lavish entrance of Dillon's preferred club. She didn't want an accidental encounter to complicate things further.

Just as if sensing her hesitation, Mara called her, "Sophia, are you here yet? Director Harris and Mr. Smith are eager to chat about your script. Hurry, they’re really interested; if it pans out, you could earn a hundred thousand dollars for it."

"A hundred thousand?" Sophia was stunned. As a rookie without any famous works to her name and having penned a suspense thriller, she'd never expected it to fetch much.

"Yes, a hundred thousand! So, come quickly..." Mara's voice mingled with the clinking of glasses and the crowd's urging to drink. Through the phone, Sophia overheard Mara's conversation with others. "Sophia's nearly here. Let's have another drink while we wait."

After wrapping up her call, Mara continued, "We're in 4311. Hurry up."

Sophia could tell Mara had drunk quite a bit. She knew it was for her sake, so whether for the money or Mara's support, she had to go.

A club employee led her to room 4311. Just as she opened the door, a strong hand grabbed her wrist. A man she didn't recognize, reeking of booze, pulled her into a laugh and said, "They always say the last one to show up is the most stunning. Let's see how lovely you are."

Seeing her face, the man's eyes widened. "Wow, this place has some real beauties."

He mistook her for one of the club's escorts. Sophia struggled, "You've got the wrong idea, I'm not—"

She scanned the room for Mara, in search of help. But a quick glance revealed no sign of her friend, though she did spot Dillon.

He sat on a couch, detached, a cigarette lazily perched between his fingers, seemingly unfazed by the raucous scene. Beside him, Carolina Lopez nuzzled up to him, offering a glass of red wine. She seemed shocked to see Sophia and assumed Dillon had invited her to unsettle her. But noting Dillon's indifference, Carolina knew even if he had, it was just to demean her.

Carolina shot Sophia a triumphant look, feeling victorious.

The drunk man pressed on, "So, you're not late? Don't fret; make me happy, and I won't mind."

"Now, give me a kiss." The man, foul-smelling and corpulent, leaned closer, his lips nearing her face.