Anastasia started laughing while she was still crying, like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. Jordan leaned close to her ear and whispered.

“Since we’re legally husband and wife,” he murmured, “don’t you think we should actually act like it? We’ve been too restrained.”

She hit his chest lightly. “You’re shameless.”

He just laughed, scooped her up and carried her straight into the villa.

I was still sitting in my car.

It felt like something blunt was sawing through my chest. Not sharp enough to kill me quickly. Just slow and painful.

...

I drove home without remembering how I got there.

That night, when Jordan pushed the door open, he did what he always did. He spread his arms wide, that soft smile already on his face.

“Wife,” he said warmly, walking toward me, “did you wait long? You must be exhausted taking care of the baby all day. Come here, let me hug you.”

I stepped aside before he could touch me.

He paused for half a second, then smiled like nothing happened.

“I went to the county office today,” I said quietly. “About registering our daughter.”

His expression changed fast, but he covered it up just as fast.

“Oh, that?” He waved it off. “I’ll handle it another day. Don’t stress about that stuff.”

“I can do it,” I replied. “It’s not that complicated.”

His tone hardened for a split second. “I said I’ll take care of it!”

Then he saw my face and softened immediately. He reached for my hand.

“Genn, don’t misunderstand. The paperwork is messy these days. You just finished postpartum confinement. You shouldn’t be running around. Stay home and rest. Leave everything to me, okay? I don’t want you tired.”

So considerate. So caring.

I lowered my eyes and nodded.

I didn’t tell him that our daughter had already been registered under my name. I didn’t tell him I’d changed her last name.

And I definitely didn’t tell him that on my way home, I’d made another call.

To the one man Jordan hated the most.

I’d held my phone tightly and said, very calmly, “I’m still legally single. If you’re still willing… marry me in seven days.”

There was a long silence on the other end before he answered yes.

Back in the living room, Jordan let out a small sigh and leaned against me like he was the one who’d been wronged.

“It’s been weeks since you finished your confinement,” he said softly. “We haven’t had time for ourselves. Tonight maybe we could…”

My stomach twisted.

Before I could respond, my phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Panic?

He turned his back to me to answer.

After he hung up, his voice was rushed. “Honey, there’s an emergency at the company. I have to go now. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

He kissed my forehead quickly and grabbed his coat.

I followed him in my own car.

His car didn’t head toward the company.

It stopped in front of that same secluded villa.

A few minutes later, Anastasia walked out. She swayed her hips like she knew she’d won. She slid into the passenger seat.

Then the car started rocking.

I stared at it, numb.

With shaking hands, I opened the listening app on my phone. I’d installed it months ago because I was worried about his safety during business events. I wanted to make sure no one plotted against him.

How ironic.

Now it was helping me hear my husband cheat.

Her voice came first, soft and fake sweet. “Good thing I told you I had a stomachache. If I didn’t lie, you’d have stayed home pretending to be the perfect husband tonight.”

He laughed breathlessly. “You should rest more. Don’t overthink. Genn doesn’t suspect anything.”

There was a pause, then he added, almost casually, “After she gave birth, her body changed so much. Her stomach’s covered in stretch marks. I can’t even look at it without feeling turned off.”

I stopped breathing.

That body had carried his child.

Anastasia gasped softly. “Then don’t go back tonight. Stay with me. Let her sleep alone for once.”

He didn’t answer with words. The sounds that followed were enough.

A few minutes later, the car door opened. He lifted her again and carried her inside like she was something precious.

…

The next morning, I was lying there, pretending to wake up when Jordan came in. His hair was damp like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

“Genn, come on, get up. I’ve got something planned for you today,” he said, “There’s a fair with some antiques you used to like. I thought… you’d enjoy it.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, the same gentle gesture I’d believed was love. I hesitated, staring at him, and then got up.

...

At the fair, Anastasia appeared, dripping in red from head to toe, that ridiculous slit in her dress making everyone stare.

“Mr. Sinclair, your coat.”

Jordan froze, then turned to her like she’d just thrown dirt on him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you, and you know better than this.”

She tilted her head at me, trying to look wronged. “But someone has to make sure you’re comfortable, right?”

People around us started whispering immediately. Everyone knew he doted on me. Our wedding had been grand, a spectacle the city still talked about.

Jordan’s grip on my waist tightened, and his eyes went cold. “Anastasia, enough. This is not your place. Go back to the office.”

She hesitated, biting her lip, then ran off, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

Jordan turned back to me, trying to act calm. He kissed my forehead again and helped me sit. But I could feel the tremor in his hands, the tension in his body. He kept glancing at the display cases, his feet shifting nervously under the table.

“I’ll step out for a bit. Just… pick whatever you like.”

The people around us whispered, envious. “Look at him doting on his wife. How sweet.”

“Do you think she even knows what she’s looking at? Born into the Fitzwilliam family. Must feel untouchable.”

I ignored them, my stomach twisting. I followed him as he left, and my heart sank when I reached the women’s restroom.

I shouldn’t have, but I heard them.

“Why did you even come here dressed like that? Three times this morning wasn’t enough?” Jordan’s voice was low, rough, panting almost.

“You started it,” Anastasia said, whining but flirty. “Why didn’t you think of that when you threw me out of the house?”

I wanted to disappear.

He muttered, almost lazily, “Relax, she’s just my wife on paper. Everyone here does this for the Fitzwilliam name, not me. You know that.”

“I am your legal wife!” she whispered, her voice shaking. “When will I ever get to be with you openly?”

Jordan’s voice hardened. “Stop talking nonsense. We agreed to keep this quiet. Don’t push it.”

Then, his voice softened again, “Here, the gem I got? It’s yours. Consider it… a small apology.”

“I want a real wedding too,” she murmured, “something bigger than hers. Something everyone can see.”

Then there was that sound I’ll never forget. I staggered out of the fair, pressing against the wall, retching, heart twisting.

So that’s him. The man who gave me a grand wedding, a title, public displays of affection, all while keeping his real love for her and their child.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. Six more days. Just six more days and it’s over.

I called my assistant, voice steady but hard as steel. “Check all my shares and projects in Sinclair Group. Prepare the transfer papers immediately.”

Her next words froze me.

“Miss Genevieve… the Cancer Research Project you handled? It was transferred to Miss Anastasia last month.”

The “Cancer Research Project” had been my father’s pride and joy. He’d devoted his life to helping people, and this project was meant to develop new treatments that could actually save lives.

I’d worked through my pregnancy, keeping the project going for months. It was only right before giving birth, when everything was finally starting to fall into place, that I allowed myself to breathe a little.

When I got to the company, my assistant was sweating like she’d run a marathon.

“Miss Genevieve, Mr. Sinclair has handed everything over to Miss Anastasia. Big, small… we don’t even know what’s happening inside.”

I said quietly, steady as I could, “It’s fine. Take me to the president’s office. I know the password to Jordan’s computer.”

Before I could move, Anastasia appeared, blocking the hallway.

“Miss Genevieve, wait,” her chest puffed out, lips swollen and red. I could see hickeys on her neck. She looked… untouchable.

“You can’t go in without the president’s say-so,” she added, her tone dripping with fake authority.

“Move. This is my project. I’ve overseen it from the start, and I have the right to check it myself.”

She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You let this slide during your pregnancy, and now you want to swoop in and claim it?!”

I stared at her, my jaw tight. “You think you can steal months of work? You think it just falls into your lap? There’s no free lunch.”

She couldn’t stop me. She couldn’t. In her frustration, she started blurting everything she felt, like a child lashing out.

Just then, Jordan arrived, looking flustered. “Genn… why are you here already? You didn’t wait for me.”

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Busy playing house with her, weren’t you? How could you even care about me right now?

I handed him a stack of documents. “Look at this, Jordan. Every original sample, every imported material for the treatments… it’s been swapped for cheap junk. Who changed the suppliers and pocketed the difference?”

He glanced at the papers and frowned, clearly realizing something was off.

Anastasia’s face was drained of color. “I… it’s nothing to do with President Sinclair. I just… I wanted extra money for my son. I didn’t think it would go this far. I’m sorry, Miss Genevieve…”

“Sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re committing fraud. I’m calling the authorities.”

Before I could even finish, a small figure barreled into me, throwing me off balance.

“Mom! Don’t let her hurt you! Dad, make him pay!”

I froze.

Blair Evan Sinclair.

The hit wasn’t hard, but I’d just given birth a month ago. My body was still weak. When that little body slammed into me, pain shot through my stomach and I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped my throat. My vision blurred for a second.

The whole office went quiet.

Jordan rushed over like some heroic husband. “Genn, hey, look at me. Are you hurt? Does it hurt anywhere? Tell me.”

His hands hovered near my shoulders but didn’t really touch me.

Anastasia quickly pulled Blair behind her, wrapping her arms around him like she was shielding him from danger.

“Evan, that’s not polite,” she said gently, but there was no real anger in her voice. “You can’t push people like that. Say sorry to Auntie.”

Auntie? Me? Wow.

Then she looked at me with those watery eyes. “Miss Genevieve, please don't be upset. Don’t take it out on a child. He’s just protective of his mom.”

Protective.

Before I could even respond, Jordan spoke first. “Genn, don’t be harsh on him. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t understand adult matters.”

He turned to Anastasia. “Take Evan downstairs. I’ll talk to Genevieve. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Didn’t mean anything?

I looked straight into Jordan’s eyes. “Explain what, exactly?” I asked slowly. “Explain why he called me a bad woman? Or explain why he called you Dad?”

The air turned heavy.

For a second, Jordan’s face stiffened. Then he forced a smile. “You’re overthinking. Kids call anyone they’re close to Dad sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Really?

I couldn’t stand there and watch them act anymore. I turned and walked out.

Jordan chased after me. “Genevieve, why are you making this a big deal? He’s six! You’re arguing with a six year old now?”

I stopped walking.

Six years old and already that vicious. Who taught him that? Who let him think I was the enemy? Was that not their responsibility?

I clenched my fists. “Kids don’t come up with that kind of hatred on their own. They learn it.”

His expression shifted instantly. He frowned like I’d offended him. “What are you implying? That he’s mine? Genevieve, that’s ridiculous! I only have one child. Our daughter.”

He said it so smoothly. So naturally.

Even now, he was lying.

I let out a laugh that didn’t sound like mine. “Then what’s our daughter’s name?”

He froze.

“You haven’t even named her yet, have you?”

He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

I remembered the name he’d once written in his memo. I’d seen it by accident months ago. He’d written, I hope my child grows up proud and unbreakable. The name attached to that wish had been meant for our baby.

And now that name belonged to Anastasia’s son.

I looked at him steadily. “Her name is Jennifer.”

He swallowed. His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read, then he softened again, slipping back into that gentle tone.

“Jennifer,” he repeated with a small smile. “That’s beautiful. Bright and warm. Just like you. She’ll always light up your life.”

He reached out like he wanted to touch my hair.

I stepped back slightly.

“I’ve got a business trip for a few days,” he continued, like nothing had happened. “When I get back, we’ll talk properly. I’ll make things clearer for you.”

“Of course,” I cut in. “Work’s important.”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I walked away.

When I got home, I fed Jennifer and rocked her to sleep. She made soft little noises and her eyelashes cast tiny shadows on her cheeks under the lamp.

My phone buzzed.

Anastasia had posted on her Insta.

Three hands stacked together. Jordan’s hand. Her hand. And Blair’s chubby little hand holding a set of car keys.

The caption said something about rewarding their little hero.

A five million dollar car, given like a toy.

Last week I’d reminded Jordan three times to buy imported diapers for his daughter. He’d said he was busy and forgot.

I stared at the screen and suddenly laughed. It sounded sharp and empty.

I saved the screenshot into my evidence folder.

Jennifer shifted in my arms, smacking her lips in her sleep.

I lowered my head and kissed her soft cheek.

“Baby, Mommy will protect you. No matter what.”

…

The next day, after checking all my resources and shares, I booked a flight to Newyork three days later.

Jordan had been texting me nonstop for the past few days, probably trying to keep up his “perfect husband” image.

“Honey, the client today was impossible, but I managed to get them on board.”

“Honey, you’ve been working so hard. The pastries in downtown are amazing. I’ll take you there next time.”

I scrolled through the messages, laughing bitterly to myself. Did he think I didn’t know? Every bonus he quietly funneled into Anastasia’s account had been recorded in my emails. Every cent. And while he was pretending to be the devoted husband, she was posting pictures of herself with stacks of money tucked into her underwear and fresh hickeys all over her body.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a little broken, at how blind I had been. Once upon a time, Jordan had loved me like that. We were childhood sweethearts, everyone envied us. He’d promised under that old banyan tree he’d marry no one but me. In college, he’d chased away every girl who even looked at me, acting like a wolf protecting his territory. He stayed at my bedside for three nights straight when I had my appendix surgery, never sleeping. The first paycheck he earned went straight into my account, with a note that said To my little princess.

But none of that mattered anymore.

A sudden cry cut through my thoughts. The nursery.

“Oh my God, Miss Genevieve! The baby had cut on her thigh and the bleeding… it won’t stop!” The nanny’s hands were shaking, smeared with blood.

My chest dropped. I ran in and grabbed Jennifer. Her tiny cries were fading, but the blood on her leg wouldn’t stop. My arms felt weak but I carried her as fast as I could to the hospital.

The doctor looked at the tests and said, “She had a rare neonatal disorder! Her hemoglobin is dangerously low. She needs a blood transfusion immediately.”

My lips trembled. “Do whatever you can. Give her the IV. I’ll do anything… I’m her mother…”

“Parents can’t give blood directly,” the doctor said calmly, almost detached. “And she’s Rh-negative. We need to check the blood bank first.”

“Then give her a clotting agent. Now!” I yelled, panic clawing through me.

Even after the clotting agent, the blood kept coming. I held her pale little body, tears sliding down my face like they’d never end.

Minutes later, a nurse ran in, sympathy written all over her face. “Miss Genevieve… the Rh-negative blood… it’s all been used up.”

“What? You just said there was some in reserve!” My voice cracked.

The nurse looked down and whispered, “This is a private hospital. Mr. Sinclair’s son needed it urgently. The director moved all the rare blood to the VIP ward.”

Everything inside me froze. Thunderbolt. My chest felt like it had been ripped open.

I was about to call Jordan, to scream at him, when my phone lit up. Anastasia had posted a new Insta story.

“Little rascal scraped his knee? Lucky for you, Dad can get the rarest blood in the whole city in no time.”

I felt like my head was about to explode. I handed Jennifer to the nurse and ran. Up the stairs, up the corridors, my heart hammering.

I kicked open the door to the VIP ward.

Anastasia was there, smiling, playing some game with Evan who was sitting comfortably in the hospital bed. The scrape on his knee looked so minor a band-aid wasn’t even needed.

I froze. My chest burned like ice and fire at the same time. That scene, that happy little mother and her child, stabbed straight into my heart.

I could feel the hatred boiling up, overwhelming me, almost taking over. I couldn’t hold it in.

“Give my daughter the blood!” I screamed.

Her face was full of that smug, triumphant look she always got when she thought she’d won.

“Why are you making such a fuss?” she said, voice sharp. “My son scraped his knee, that’s all.”

I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “It’s not just a scrape. My daughter… she has a rare neonatal condition. If we wait any longer, she could die!”

The doctor outside heard the shouting and stepped in cautiously. “What’s going on here? If there’s enough blood, could some of it go to this child?”

I looked at him like I was clinging to a lifeline. “Please… my daughter needs Rh-negative blood immediately! If it’s delayed even a little… she won’t survive.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh please, Doctor. You know who my husband is. He’s the biggest shareholder in this hospital. Did you forget that? Every drop of Rh-negative blood is reserved for our son. You want to lose your job?”

I felt like someone had punched me in the chest. Everything inside me shattered.

I lunged at the IV stand and grabbed the bag of blood. “You stole my daughter’s life! How could you do this?”

Anastasia screamed, stamping her foot. “Security! Grab her! This crazy woman is trying to steal my son’s blood!”

Two guards rushed over and pinned my arms. My rage flared, hot and wild, and I could feel every heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Anastasia snatched the bag back like she’d won a trophy and held it up. “See this? She tried to take my son’s blood. Drag her out now!”

They pulled me away, my chest heaving, fury and despair mixing into something I could barely breathe.

One of them yelled, “The hospital has enough blood, she’s just making a scene!”

I wanted to scream, to burn this place down with my voice. “I don’t care! My daughter is dying, and she has the right to live!”

The hospital director walked in at the commotion and frowned. “Wait, who’s Mrs. Sinclair here?”