"Nothing tops the Lawrence family's bloodline."

A smile spread across Charles's face. "Twelve weeks already, Fiona. This is my first kid, and I'm going to make sure he's the best successor there ever was."

Twelve weeks... I did the math. That was right when Charles said he was jetting off abroad to seal some company deal.

Charles took Fiona by the hand, and they walked away. I quickly ducked into a nearby store to stay out of sight.

Then, my phone buzzed with another anonymous text.

The picture showed Charles, beaming with the pregnancy report in hand, and the text taunted, [Sienna, how can you even compete with me?]

He had convinced me when we got married that we should just enjoy being together and hold off on kids.

How could he betray me like that, letting another woman carry his child so easily?

All those promises we made turned out to be nothing but empty words. I, like a fool, believed him for far too long.

I did not bother replying to Fiona's gloating message.

I was done. No more hoping for anything from Charles. I just wanted out, fast.

Soon after, Charles texted me. Some big emergency at work, he said, and told the bodyguard to take me home. I knew the truth: he could not wait to be with Fiona and their unborn child.

Fine by me. With Charles gone, I could make my exit even smoother.

I erased every trace of myself from the villa, donated anything of value to charity, and packed up the few things I wanted to keep.

As I finished, the first light of dawn was just breaking over the horizon.

The car arrived right on time, and I hopped in with my suitcase, not even bothering to take a last look at the villa that had been my home for the past five years.

There was this hollow feeling inside me, but it was mixed with a sense of relief that was hard to put into words.

As we drove past Jubilee City's biggest wetland park, I caught a glimpse of a wedding in the distance. There were not many guests, but the couple–him in a crisp white suit and her in a flowing white gown–looked like they were made for each other.

Out of nowhere, snowflakes began to dance down from the sky. The groom, standing tall, turned and locked eyes with me, his expression flickering with surprise.

That face, the one that had been sleeping next to mine for five years, belonged to Charles, my husband.

Just 10 minutes earlier, my phone had buzzed with a text from an unknown number. There was Fiona, all cozy against Charles's shoulder, looking like the picture of love. They were dressed just like the couple in the park. The message was like a slap.

[I'm pregnant with the Lawrence heir. Charles has booked the place where we first met for our one-of-a-kind wedding. You, who can't have kids–just disappear and die!]

[And if you don't, once I've completely replaced you, you won't get off easy!]

I could not help but let out a silent, bitter laugh. I knew I was not mistaken.

The ringtone jolted me as I was about to ditch my SIM card. Seeing Charles's name on the screen, I did not think twice. I chucked the card and the phone right out the window into the snowy abyss.

Soon enough, the snow would bury the phone and the years of emotion that went with it, hidden from the world forever.

…

(From a third-person perspective)

The car pulled away from the park. Charles, as if on instinct, took a few steps after it before stopping, lost and anxious. He fished out his phone and dialed Sienna.

The call went straight to voicemail, and with each ring, the knot of dread in his stomach grew tighter.

Had he been wrong? No, he could not be. Deep down, he wished he was.

Panic and shock were written all over his face as he tried to run after the car, but his legs were like lead, too heavy to lift. He managed only two steps before his strength gave out, and he crumpled to the ground in the direction the car had vanished.

"Sienna, please don't leave..."