In the office, my childhood buddy held the paternity test results. Worry was etched all over his face as he looked at me.

"Duncan, perhaps… you shouldn't look at this?" he suggested, almost hesitantly.

But deep down, I already knew what was coming, so I snatched both reports and compared them side by side.

The first one read: [0.00000001% chance of a biological relationship]

The second report: [99.99%]

It hit me like a ton of bricks—Ollie was Edmund's kid.

Looking at the report confirming I had no biological tie to the child I treated as my son felt like my heart was getting ripped right out of my chest.

I thought I was ready for this, but seeing it laid out like that made me tremble.

Honestly, I don't even recall how I made it home.

By the time I came to my senses, I found the floor littered with cigarette butts.

Ophelia walked in, coming back for some files, and her frown deepened at the sight.

"Ollie's still here. Don't smoke in the house," she scolded.

Seeing me in a daze, she shifted her tone, saying, "I've thought about it. Yesterday was my fault. I shouldn't have hit you."

"To make it up to you," she added, "I'll stay home tonight."

"Here, I bought you an apology gift," she offered, tossing a box at me.

I opened it up and found a tie clip, identical to the one Edmund had worn this morning.

A cheap freebie from when she picked up his shirt, I bet.

At that realization, bitterness surged through me.

Was this all I was worth to her?

Thinking about the damn reports made my hands shake again.

Once I got my breathing under control, I finally managed to spit out the words that had been clawing at my throat.

"Ophelia, let's get a divorce."

Her head snapped up, and her cold facade cracked. For a second, I could see her poised figure tremble.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" she blurted out. "You accepted my apology, and now you're talking about divorce?"

But just like that, she regained her composure, the arrogance creeping back in.

"Oh, is this your way of playing hard to get? Trying to make me chase after you?"

"I told you I'd stay home tonight to make things right."

"If that's not enough for you, stop bugging me. I've got work to do."

She tossed her bag aside, plopped down on the couch, and flipped open her laptop, burying herself in work.

The dim glow from the screen of the device cast a cold light on her face, making her look distant and detached—like snow on a mountain, untouchable.

For a moment, I found myself lost in thought, drifting back to our university days.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on Ophelia. It was a love at first sight.

She was a standout in the finance program, and I was a rising entrepreneur already running my business.

To win her over, I went all out, even chartering a plane to take her to meet the most prominent financial experts.

I poured all the resources I had into helping her chase her entrepreneurial dreams.

But right before our wedding, she told me she didn't want kids, which meant no intimacy for us.

Respecting her wishes, I held back for two years, leaving our bedroom cold and empty.

Then last year, she suddenly got passionate. She was crawling into bed with me at night, demanding my attention like I was her lifeline.

I was thrilled, thinking that after all these years, my devotion to her had finally touched her.

I doted on her even more, treating her like a queen.

Not long after, she dropped the news—she was pregnant.

I was over the moon and announced it to everyone that very night.

But looking back now, her sudden affection was just a ploy to legitimize the child she was carrying back then.

To her, I was nothing more than a walking bank account, and even talking to me was a favor.

Staring at the woman I once loved with all my heart, a wave of bitterness crashed over me.

Was this really the reward for all those years of my loyalty?

I wanted to speak up, but her phone buzzed before I could find the words.

She answered the call and abruptly stood up, grabbing her things and bolting for the door.

Just as she placed her hand on the doorknob, she seemed to remember something and glanced back at me.

"Edmund had an accident. I need to check on him. I can't stay with you tonight," Ophelia said, her voice a mix of urgency and guilt.

I managed a half-hearted smile and replied, "Go on. If something's wrong, you should be there."

Before I could say anything else, she was out the door.

Staring at the now-empty apartment, I suddenly felt a sense of release.

After she left, I began packing my stuff. I called my mother-in-law and asked her to come pick up Ollie.

By the time I zipped up my suitcase, the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, I was met with Ophelia's mom, her expression as cold as a winter wind.

"A full-grown man without a job, and you can't even take care of your own kid?!"

"We never wanted her to marry you in the first place. If she'd gone for a rich guy, none of this would be happening."

"Now I've gotta come out in the middle of the night to pick up my own grandson!"

She'd always looked down on me like I was just a weed in her garden.

What she didn't realize was that selling my company was what helped her daughter rise to where she is.

But explaining all that now would just be a waste of time.

I handed over Ollie carefully, but she kept on rambling.

"At least my grandson takes after my daughter. He's so handsome; he'll do something big one day. Unlike you, relying on a woman for a roof over your head."

Her words sliced through me, twisting my gut.

I couldn't help but say, "I'm about to divorce her, so save the insults."

She was shocked, staring at me like she couldn't believe the son-in-law she used to push around was finally standing up for himself.

With a raised eyebrow, she sneered. "Ha! A mooch like you talking about divorce?"

"Then hurry up and do it!" she continued. "Stop holding my daughter back from finding a real man."

With a slam that echoed down the hallway, she stormed off, taking Ollie with her.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm.

But I couldn't wait any longer; I pulled out my phone, ready to text Ophelia about meeting at the Clerk of Court's Office tomorrow to finalize the divorce.q

As I unlocked my screen, a notification caught my eye.

Edmund had just posted something. I clicked the notification, and my heart sank.

There was a photo of Ophelia gently blowing on a cut on his finger, her face full of concern and affection.

The caption read: [Cut my finger while fixing the pipes. Someone rushed over to check on me. Is this what being someone's favorite feels like?]

I stared at the screen and let out a sarcastic laugh.

I typed back: [Well, here's wishing you two a lifetime of happiness and plenty of kids!]

After hitting send, I blocked and deleted him from my friend list.

Then, I forwarded the divorce paper and the paternity test results to the family group chat, mentioning Ophelia.

[@Ophelia, sign the papers or I'll file for divorce. Your call.]