I receive a mysterious parcel on my fifth wedding anniversary. Inside the box are photos of my husband, Luke Madden, being intimate with his assistant.

The photos go back a long time—they seem to start from over five years ago. The latest one was taken half a month ago. He, his assistant, and their daughter are playing by the seaside.

They smile brightly in the photo and look like a happy family of three.

I suppress my devastation and take medication to terminate my pregnancy. Then, I pull out my phone to text my mother. "I'll do as you say and get a divorce, Mom. I'll be back next month to take over the company."

The doctor's words still echoed in my ears even after I left the hospital. "Ms. Lane, the baby's heart is developing well. At your age, getting pregnant again won't be easy. Are you sure you don't want to keep it?

"Maybe you should go home and talk to your husband."

I stared at the tiny dot on the ultrasound scan. Steeling myself, I took the mifepristone pill.

Before the medication took effect, I went to the supermarket and bought a lot of groceries. When I got home, I prepared an extravagant dinner consisting of all of Luke Madden's favorite food.

Then, I sat quietly on the couch and waited for him to come home.

Eventually, the sky turned dark. The food went cold, and the candles on the cake burned out.

Luke never came home.

Just then, I saw an update on Wendy Chapman's social media. She had posted a photo of a man wearing an apron while baking a cake. The photo was angled so that only his hands were shown.

The caption read, "I can't believe he remembered our 10th anniversary of knowing each other. Who says men can't be romantic? Mine's different."

I recognized those hands—slim, well-defined, and that very familiar scar between the thumb and forefinger.

Luke had gotten that scar last year while saving me during a dog attack. He used to say that it had affected his dexterity and caused him to be less precise during surgery.

Now, those hands that once only held surgical tools were willingly cooking for someone else.

It was almost midnight when he finally returned home.

When he saw me waiting by the food-laden table, he looked a little surprised. "Didn't I tell you I was working overtime? You didn't have to wait up for me."

I stood up stiffly and cleared the table, throwing all the food away. "It's fine. I already ate. I just hadn't cleaned up yet."

When Luke saw the cake on the table, his surprise was mixed in with a hint of nervousness. "You got a cake? What's the occasion?"

I took off the small card proclaiming our 5th anniversary and said indifferently, "No occasion. I just felt like having some."

Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked over and kissed my cheek affectionately. "Thank you for your hard work today. I'm tired. I'm gonna turn in early tonight."

He probably worked even harder today, having to juggle between two women.

The next morning, I got up early as usual to make breakfast for Luke and our daughter, Susan Madden.

Susan frowned at the bowl of oatmeal I placed in front of her and complained loudly, "Why are we eating this again? I want a bacon burger!"

Patiently, I told her, "Bacon burgers aren't healthy. Oatmeal is good for your tummy."

Unhappy, she shouted at me, "You're such a stick in the mud! Aunt Wendy says I can eat whatever I want. I want her to be my Mommy and take care of me. I don't want you!"

I paused mid-motion. My heart felt as if it were being torn apart.

I couldn't believe my daughter, whom I had endured countless rounds of IVF and injections to bring into this world, could say such cruel words.

Luke quickly glared at Susan and took the ladle from my hand. "She doesn't know what she's talking about," he said hurriedly with a smile. "Don't mind her. Wendy is just my assistant. Here, sit down. I'll serve you."

I did not expose his lie. Clenching my trembling hands, I did as he asked and sat down to eat my breakfast.

After they left the house, I received a text on my phone.

"I'm glad you've come around. I'll get everything ready, and you can take over next month."

I replied with a curt affirmation. Back then, my parents had been adamantly against my marriage to Luke. I had ended up falling out with my family just to be with him.

Over the last few years, I had enough time to find out his true colors.

I sent another text. "Do me a favor—I want to make sure they never recover from this."

The medication was starting to take effect now. I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen.

Unable to bear the pain, I called Luke.

A woman answered the phone instead. She deliberately put on a coy voice, taunting me. "Luke's not free right now. What do you want with him?

"Please don't call him for no reason. He's busy. He doesn't have time to deal with idle people like you."

I didn't answer her. After hanging up the phone, I dialed emergency services.

The ambulance arrived quickly. At the hospital, the doctor did some checks and told me that the abortion was not complete and that I needed a surgical procedure to clean out my uterus properly.

On the operating table, I was so scared that I couldn't stop trembling. Just then, Luke sent me a text saying that he would be going on a business trip for a few days.

On her social media, Wendy also posted about a trip to Mardalf.

I replied to Luke with a single word. "Okay."

Turning off my phone, I let my tears flow freely onto the cold surface of the operating table.

My mother worked quickly. It didn't take long for her to gather plenty of evidence of Luke cheating on me with Wendy, hire a lawyer, and draft the divorce papers.

All that was left was my approval to proceed with the divorce.

However, I didn't want to let Luke and Wendy off so easily. How could they cheat on me so boldly?

I was the wronged one here, and I didn't want to be the one to leave in disgrace. I wanted them to pay for their crimes.

After I was discharged and returned home, Luke finally remembered to call me. He sounded impatient over the phone. "Elizabeth Lane! Where the hell have you been these past few days while I was on my business trip? Why didn't you pick up Susan from school?"

I stayed silent. During his "business trip", Wendy had been very active on social media, posting photos of the two of them having the time of their lives abroad. She hadn't even bothered to block me.

"I was busy," I told him impassively. "I sent Susan over to my mom's place."

Luke paused, stunned. I had never been so cold to him before.

Sensing my mood, he softened his tone. "I know I've been really busy lately and haven't spent much time with you. Once I'm free, I'll take you to Mardalf for a vacation."

I hummed noncommittally.

When we first got married, I had happily suggested going to Mardalf for our honeymoon. I'd always wanted to go there.

However, at the time, he impatiently told me, "That's too far. I don't have that much time to waste. Let's just go somewhere nearby for a couple of days."

Back then, I had been understanding. He had just started a business, after all, so I settled with a quick trip to the seaside. It was still the sea, close enough to count as Mardalf, I had told myself.

However, as soon as we arrived at the beach, he received a call from Wendy and promptly left, leaving me alone on what was supposed to be our honeymoon.

Things like this happened countless times. Each time, like a fool, I forgave him and waited for him to come back to me.

But it was all for nothing.

After a pause, Luke continued, "Darling, the company will be celebrating its anniversary in a few days. Come with me to the banquet. Many of our business partners and important people will be in attendance, so make sure you dress up nicely."

I tightened my grip on my phone. "Okay. I will."

It had been two years since Luke founded his company. The company had done well, and he always thought that it was all his own doing.

What he didn't know was that I had been silently funding the company and using my parents' connections to support him behind the scenes.

I never told him, as I didn't want to add unnecessary pressure on him.

Now, it was time for me to take everything back.