After five miscarriages, I seek out a doctor to ask why I can't carry my babies to term. However, I overhear his conversation with my husband when I'm at the door.

"The abortion medication you've prescribed is quite effective—she's already had five miscarriages. When can you do a hysterectomy? I can't let Adrianna have my child.

"Oh, and give me something to keep a mother and baby safe. Monica is pregnant with my child; I have to make sure she gives birth to a healthy baby."

The doctor says, "Adrianna's health has deteriorated over the years, though. It's highly likely she'll never have children."

Reynold Scott scoffs indifferently. "So what? It's precisely because I don't want her to have children that I've been making her miscarry! Look, let's end this here. I need to accompany Monica on a shopping spree for the baby."

I feel cold all over when I hear this. It turns out the love I've been defending is nothing but a joke.

After my fifth miscarriage, I went to consult with my doctor about why my body could not carry a baby to term. However, just as I reached the door, I overheard my husband, Reynold Scott, talking with the doctor.

"Those abortion pills you prescribed work well. She's had five 'accidental' miscarriages already. When can we schedule the hysterectomy? I can't let Adrianna Davidson have my child," Reynold said.

"By the way, please prescribe me some prenatal vitamins. Monica Cline is pregnant with my child, and I need to make sure she delivers a healthy baby," he continued.

The doctor responded, "But Adrianna's body has been through so much these past few years. She might never be able to have children again."

Reynold dismissed this concern casually. "So what? That's exactly why I've been making her miscarry repeatedly—I want her to be infertile!"

Inside the examination room, Reynold carried on as if his actions meant nothing. "Since you're a gynecologist, give me some advice on what pregnant women should eat. I want to cook for Monica."

The doctor facing him was also his good friend, Brian Webster. Brian frowned as he replied, "You're going out of your way for Monica? She's just your secretary, while Adrianna is your wife!"

Reynold's expression immediately darkened. "Do you have to mention her? What does it matter if she's my wife? Monica means more to me!"

His voice turned colder, filled with disgust. "Besides, look at Adrianna. She's pushing past her prime, covered in freckles, with rough skin and blackheads.

"She's ballooned up so much that she has lost her curves. Honestly, the fact that I haven't divorced her yet is already a favor."

Brian looked shocked, unable to believe his friend could say something so despicable. "But isn't your current success all thanks to Adrianna's support? If she hadn't helped you secure sponsors and investors, your company would have gone bankrupt five years ago."

The comment seemed to hit a nerve, and Reynold raised his voice. "That's all in the past! Why are you bringing it up? I've already given her plenty of money. Meanwhile, Monica has no one else but me!"

Brian reluctantly handed him a prenatal nutrition guide and said, "Reynold, you've really changed. Look, I won't say more, but as your friend, I have to warn you—you need to have a conscience.

"The way you're mistreating the wife who helped build your company from nothing... karma will catch up to you eventually."

Reynold glared at him, snatched the guide, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Thankfully, I had hidden in the stairwell nearby, and I watched as he hurried away.

My reflection in a nearby hospital room's glass door caught my eye. Though I was only 30, my body had become bloated, my skin sagging, and my dull face covered in freckles.

I could see why Reynold did not want me anymore—I clearly did not match up to him, who now managed a company with thousands of employees. A young, beautiful woman would look much better by his side.

Nonetheless, when Reynold's company faced financial problems years ago, I went everywhere to meet potential investors, trying to secure enough funding to help him through the crisis.

I worked late nights preparing proposals and drafting contracts, often too busy to eat, which led to serious stomach problems. I had also gone through endless fertility treatments, my arms covered in bruises from hormone injections, all because I wanted to give us a child.

Despite all this, I could not keep any of our five babies, and my body had ballooned up, growing heavier and uglier. It was no wonder he did not like me anymore. The current me was undesirable for any man, and my heart ached terribly.

Still, I could not understand why Reynold kept me around even though he did not love me. He could have just told me, and we would have divorced. Yet, not only did he take away my ability to have children, but he even cheated and betrayed me,

In the end, I didn't visit the doctor. Instead, I went home alone. The mansion was the home Reynold and I purchased when we got married, back when his career was just starting to take off.

I could still remember us lying in bed, talking about the future. We had dreamed of having two kids—a boy and a girl—a perfect family of four.

Now, this house no longer contained happiness but was filled with deception. I stood on the balcony, remembering those old memories as tears rolled down my cheeks.

After a long while, I finally made up my mind—I didn't want Reynold anymore. Just as I turned to go back inside, I saw his car slowly pulling up and parking at our front door.

From the balcony, I watched him laughing and talking intimately with Monica in the car, looking exactly like a couple deeply in love. When he glanced up, Reynold suddenly spotted me, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes.

He asked, "Honey, why are you standing on the balcony? It's so cold out—what if you catch a cold?"

I smiled faintly and shook my head. "It's nothing. I felt stuffy inside and just came out for some fresh air."

By the time I reached the entryway, I saw him turning to instruct Monica to leave. As soon as he saw me, he immediately opened his arms and pulled me into an embrace.

"Your hands are freezing! Don't do this to yourself, okay? I'd be so worried if you got sick," he said.

"I brought you vitamins from the hospital again. Remember to take them on schedule," he added.

I took the bottle, my heart filling with nothing but bitter amusement as I replied, "Got it."

After we entered the house, he skillfully leaned down to kiss me, his hands wandering over my body. The scent of Monica's perfume on him made me feel sick to my stomach, and I pushed him away.

I said, "Let's not. I just finished the housework, and I'm all sweaty. I haven't showered yet."

A flash of disgust crossed his eyes, though he quickly masked it and replied with feigned patience, "It must've been tiring for you, honey. You should let the housekeeper handle the chores from now on."

"You're my wife, after all. I should be spoiling you, not having you do all that manual labor," he added.

Then, Reynold released me and headed to his study, claiming he had unfinished work. He didn't return to our bedroom until late that night.

I lay with my back to him, pretending to be asleep. After he fell into a deep sleep, I saw his phone screen lighting up with a new message.

I reached over and picked it up. I picked it up and saw a message on his Instagram, a pinned contact with no name, just a profile picture of a kitten.

When I clicked on the profile, several selfies of Monica immediately filled my screen. Their chat was sickeningly sweet.

Monica: "Reynold, did you enjoy it in the office today?"

Reynold: "My little temptress, you're driving me crazy."

Monica: "Reynold, how about we do it in the car tonight? We haven't tried that yet!"

Reynold: "Sure! Anything you want!"

Monica: "Reynold, I really want that newly released designer handbag ."

Reynold: "It's yours. I'll give you anything you want as long as you keep me happy."

I scrolled up to find countless money transfers, roughly estimating at least three million dollars, not to mention all the jewelry Monica had shown off on her social media. On her birthday, Reynold had even bought her an oceanfront mansion worth over ten million dollars.

In their photos together, Reynold gazed at her with deep affection and tenderness. Meanwhile, I did not even ask for anything extravagant for my birthday.

All I wanted was for him to take me to an amusement park—something simple, something fun, something just for us. Yet, he immediately refused, saying we were too old for that kind of thing.

The pain in my chest became unbearable, and it was almost suffocating. Then, I exited their chat. While I had been thoughtfully considering his every need, he had been lavishing money on another woman, practically offering her his heart on a silver platter.

I could not sleep all night, so I finally contacted a friend and asked them to help me find a reliable divorce lawyer. Reynold woke up at some point and, seeing me on the phone, asked curiously, "Honey, are you going out today?"

I smiled at him and said, "It's nothing important. Just an old classmate who's back from Moraino. We're meeting for lunch."

He hugged me from behind, his voice dripping with sweetness. "Is that so? Please be careful, and call me if anything happens. Do you want me to have the driver take you?"

I shook my head. "No need. I'll be back soon."

He kissed my forehead and said, "Well, I'm off to work. Let's have dinner together tonight."

After seeing him out, I compiled all the details of our shared assets from over the years, along with records of his financial transactions with Monica, and sent everything to the lawyer.

Later, the lawyer responded that they would prepare a complete divorce agreement within three days. I finally felt a sense of relief.

Despite his promise of dinner together, Reynold did not come home that night. He sent a message claiming he needed to work late at the office and told me not to wait up.

Meanwhile, the company's Twitter account posted a video celebrating their anniversary event. The video showed Reynold and Monica popping champagne together. When the bubbly sprayed on Monica's face, he gently wiped it away with such tender care—exactly like a lovestruck couple.

When I arrived at the hotel, the celebration was in full swing. Just then, Reynold announced he was giving Monica half the company shares and presented her with 5.21 million dollars in cash right there on stage, symbolizing his love for her.

I recorded the entire scene and sent the video to my lawyer as evidence. All of this was marital property, and every penny he had taken would have to be returned to me.

Stacks of cash sat displayed on the stage as employees below whispered among themselves.

One commented, "OMG! Mr. Scott is being super generous! Half the company shares—that must be worth millions! People like us could never earn that much!"

"Hey, that's Ms. Cline we're talking about. Haven't you noticed? Mr. Scott might as well move her into his house at this point," another replied.

"But isn't Mr. Scott married? I heard he's been with his wife for years."

Another chimed in, "So what? I've seen Mrs. Scott, and she's nowhere near Monica's level! She's overweight, and her face is all puffy, covered in freckles—nothing like the young and beautiful Ms. Cline.

"Plus, Mrs. Scott is just a housewife, while Ms. Cline has helped Mr. Scott land tons of partnership deals!"

I smiled silently and joined the other employees in applauding the celebration. When Reynold spotted me, panic flashed across his face.

He stammered, "H-Honey? What are you doing here? I was just in a good mood and decided to give Ms. Cline a bonus, that's all..."

Meanwhile, Monica had no intention of playing it down. She turned to me with a smug, almost taunting look and said, "Mrs. Scott, don't take it the wrong way."

She added, "Mr. Scott has always been considerate toward his employees. He gave me half the company shares and a 5.21 million cash bonus because I've earned it with my hard work!"

The previously lively banquet hall fell completely silent as everyone waited to see who would emerge victorious—the wife or the mistress.

Nonetheless, I could not be bothered to argue with her. I had come specifically to gather evidence of Reynold transferring marital assets to his mistress, and with the video I had just recorded, my mission was accomplished.

I replied flatly, "Ms. Cline has contributed a lot to the company. It's only right that she's rewarded."

Reynold visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping with relief.

"All employees who help the company make money should be properly compensated. Honey, go ahead and continue your work. I'll just look around on my own," I continued.

Seeing me walk away, Reynold assumed I was angry and hurried after me, frantically explaining his relationship with Monica. He insisted they were strictly employer and employee. He even claimed that Monica had secured billion-dollar contracts for the company, so he rewarded her with shares and cash.

I secretly scoffed at his explanation. Those billion-dollar contracts were from long-term business partners who renewed them out of loyalty to me—Monica had nothing to do with it.

Reynold had already taken away my ability to have children for Monica. Yet, he still had the audacity to act like a loving husband. His hypocrisy disgusted me.

I simply said, "I understand Ms. Cline has contributed greatly to the company. You can reward her however you see fit!"

After I left, he texted me. "Let's celebrate the company's anniversary, just the two of us another day. I'll prepare a big surprise for you!"

Sitting by the hotel pool, I finalized property division details with my lawyer over the phone. Just as I hung up, Monica approached me.

"Mrs. Scott, why are you sitting here all alone?" she asked with a challenging smile. "Why aren't you celebrating with everyone else?"

"Are you feeling embarrassed? I mean... It's such an important day, so why are you dressed so..." She left the sentence unfinished, but her eyes clearly conveyed her contempt.

My expression turned cold. "What do you want?"

She smiled slightly. "I'm just a secretary. What could I possibly want? I was just wondering, if Mr. Scott had to choose between you and me, who would he pick?"