He once told me that he would always be my shelter, my protector against the storms of life. That he would guard me for the rest of my days. I believed him. I gave him my body, my heart, my soul. When he asked for a hidden marriage, I agreed without hesitation. He feared that marrying a woman from a humble background would affect the stock price of the Raymond Group.

Every time I found out I was pregnant, Gerrald would light up like a child, shouting with excitement that he was going to be a father. He would hold me in his arms, his joy infectious. Afraid that I would suffer, he personally instructed his private doctor to use general anesthesia, ensuring I wouldn’t feel any pain. And every time, he stayed by my side, watching over me as if I were his most precious treasure.

I thought he cared about me. I thought he cared about our baby. But in reality, he was merely making it easier for himself to strangle our child with his own hands—to provide a specimen for his beloved. And I, foolishly, blamed myself. I thought my body was too weak, too incapable of carrying a child to term. I grieved over every stillborn, burdened with guilt, apologizing to him for my failures. Looking back now, I was nothing but a joke.

***

That night, after returning home, I waited for Gerrald to step into the shower. I booked an appointment for an abortion. And I purchased a plane ticket. Three days from now, I would be gone. When he emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, he spoke casually, as if it were of little importance.

"Honey, I'm going on a business trip abroad in three days. I'll be busy for over a month."

A month—just enough time for his wedding. And his honeymoon. I looked up at him and asked softly, "Gerrald, I haven’t been feeling well lately. Can you stay? I’d like you to spend more time with me."

His brows furrowed instantly, his voice turning cold. "Honey, we’ve been together for years. You know how I am. I don’t like women interfering with my work. Be good and wait for me at home. I’ll bring you back a gift when I return."

My last shred of hope crumbled. I lowered my gaze, swallowing my disappointment. "You're right. I was being selfish. Go ahead."

Satisfied, Gerrald’s expression softened. He pushed me down onto the bed, his breath laced with the scent of alcohol as he murmured into my ear.

"Honey, the nutritionist says your body has recovered well. Why don’t we have a baby tonight? I really want to watch our child grow up with you."

A wave of bitter irony washed over me. I gently pushed him away. "Not tonight. You’ve been drinking. It could harm the baby’s health."

Knowing how much I cared about this, Gerrald didn't suspect a thing. He kissed my forehead before drifting off to sleep. As his breathing steadied, I quietly reached for his jacket. That was when I discovered it. A second phone. One I had never seen before.

My heart pounded as I pressed the power button. The lock screen wallpaper made my stomach churn. A picture of Gerrald and Lydia. Kissing. I tried a password. Lydia’s birthday. The screen unlocked. I tapped on their chat history. The first thing I saw sent my blood running cold. A photo of one of my stillborn children.

Gerrald’s message read:

[Lydia, I got the specimen for you. It’ll be shipped over by helicopter this afternoon. Fresh. It won’t affect your research data.]

Another message:

[You ran out of the last specimen? Don’t worry. Jenny is pregnant again. I’ll find a way to induce premature labor. You’ll have a new one soon. My girl is such a diligent and hardworking. She’s going to be a great doctor one day.]

And another:

[Lydia, when will you return to Brooklyn? I’ve been saving my wife’s place for you. Jenny is just a tool for me to relieve stress.]

My hands trembled as I touched my stomach, tears spilling down my cheeks. This child… should never have come into this world.

I continued scrolling.

Photo albums filled with pictures of them—together from childhood to adulthood. Tens of thousands of photos, each one captioned with a different love note. Seven years of my hidden marriage and he had spent most of it on ‘business trips’—all of them just excuses to be with her.

My breath hitched when I checked his saved messages. More than a hundred versions of wedding plans. Every detail, big and small, meticulously arranged. All personally planned by Gerrald. For her.

Each version of the wedding plan was incomparably luxurious, allowing Lydia to choose her favorite.

For every holiday, big or small, Gerrald would prepare exquisite and expensive gifts for Lydia. No matter how busy he was, he would travel across the ocean just to personally deliver them to her.

And me? I only deserved the leftovers. I still remembered the day we registered our marriage. Gerrald didn’t even give me a single flower. That evening, as we walked past a florist, I gazed at the colorful bouquets, my heart filled with silent longing. Noticing my expectant eyes, he merely said in an indifferent tone, “Flowers are for little girls. You’re not that childish, are you, Honey?”

Yet, for Lydia, he bought an entire estate abroad and planted a vast garden filled with rare and exotic flowers, just because she loved them.

Looking at the photos of them kissing amidst that sea of blooms, I suddenly laughed—then burst into tears. Taking a deep breath, I snapped pictures of everything—the wedding plans, the gifts, the messages, the garden. And then, I found it. The fake marriage license. At the time, Gerrald had told me he didn’t want me to be troubled, so he arranged for the registration staff to come to our home for the formalities.

Turns out, they were just actors. I tore the certificate in half and tossed it into the trash. Returning to bed, I stared at Gerrald’s sleeping face—so calm, so handsome. Once, this sight had filled my heart with warmth. Now, it only made me sick. A night of silent sorrow left me sleepless.

***

The next morning, as usual, Gerrald had the nutritionist prepare an elaborate breakfast for me. In the past, I was always touched by his thoughtfulness, believing he truly cared for me. But after seeing those messages, I realized it was all just an act.

Every carefully planned, nutritious meal I ate—Lydia had already tasted first. The only difference? Hers were personally made by Gerrald himself. Thinking about it, a wave of nausea crashed over me. I barely made it to the sink before dry-heaving. Gerrald rushed to my side, his hands gently supporting me.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

A glimmer of excitement flashed in his eyes.

“Are you… pregnant again?”

I caught the look on his face and inwardly sneered. Why are you so happy? Are you just waiting to use this child to please your sweetheart again?

I wiped my mouth, forcing a weak smile. “No. You know my body’s weak. After losing those babies, I can barely conceive anymore.”

Gerrald cupped my face, his voice laced with gentle reassurance. “Jenny, don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t hold it against you. Just focus on getting better and I promise—we’ll have a healthy child one day.”

He smoothed my hair, his tone turning lighter. “Don’t be sad, alright? Today is my mother’s 60th birthday. Many guests are coming to celebrate. We need to be there, my love.”

Then, his voice shifted slightly. “But… since our marriage is still a secret, even my mother doesn’t know. So if anyone asks about your identity…”

I already knew what he was about to say. I cut him off with a faint smile. “I understand. I’ll just say I’m your assistant.”

His face lit up with satisfaction. “I knew you’d understand, Honey.”

***

When we arrived at the hotel, the first thing I saw was Lydia clinging to my mother-in-law’s arm, acting like a spoiled child. She was dressed in a designer gown, pretending to take my mother-in-law’s pulse as she said playfully, “Auntie, you have the healthiest body! You could live to be two hundred years old.”

My mother-in-law beamed, delighted by her flattery. With a smile, she slipped off the jade bracelet on her wrist and placed it into Lydia’s hand.

“This belonged to the Raymond Family’s ancestors. It is passed down to the wives of the next generation.”

Lydia turned to me, her smile layered with hidden meaning. Yet, her words were sweetly innocent. “Auntie, this is too precious. I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

My mother-in-law laughed. “Oh, Gerrald brought his girlfriend today! That’s his future wife, isn’t it? Maybe she’ll give us five grandchildren one day. You should give it to her instead.”

Her eyes finally landed on me. She gave me a once-over, her gaze filled with open disdain as she took in my simple, understated dress.

“What girlfriend? That’s just Gerrald’s little assistant from work.”

Then, her expression darkened in disgust. “Running around, having illegitimate children without marriage and not just one—but five stillborns? Hah. Truly, God has eyes.”

"Back in my day, a filthy little whore like her would have been drowned in a pigsty," Gerrald’s mother spat, her eyes brimming with contempt. "She’s nothing compared to a clean and respectable girl like you, Lydia."

She took Lydia’s hands in hers, a sickeningly fond smile stretching across her face. "It’s decided then. Gerrald isn’t getting any younger and today, I will make the decision. He will marry you into the family."

This wasn’t the first time I had stood in the grand hall of the Raymond Family’s estate as nothing more than Gerrald’s ‘assistant.’

Back then, he had told me that he was afraid his mother would disapprove of my background and refuse to accept me. But he assured me that he had chosen me, that he would get the marriage license first and slowly work on winning his mother over. I had believed him. I had waited. Seven years had passed and I was still waiting.

Now, his mother, having somehow learned that I had given birth to five stillborn babies, regarded me with nothing but scorn. In her eyes, I was a promiscuous woman, a disgraceful stain on their family name.

"A whore like her doesn’t deserve to stay another second in this house. Gerrald, get rid of her."

There was a time when Gerrald would have defended me, even if only half-heartedly. But now, with Lydia gleaming under the grand chandeliers, there was no space left for me in his gaze.

Feigning reluctance, he sighed, "Alright, since I’m leaving for a business trip abroad the day after tomorrow, I’ll take Lydia with me. We can hold the wedding there."

Not a moment’s hesitation.

Lydia feigned shyness. "But I haven’t even tried on my wedding dress or picked out my ring yet."

As if on cue, the doors opened and an array of twenty-three custom-made, haute couture wedding dresses was wheeled into the hall, each designed by world-renowned fashion masters, booked years in advance.

Each dress had a matching diamond ring, glistening like caged stars. One in particular—a pink diamond ring—I recognized from an international auction last month. It had sold for 200 million.

These weren’t last-minute arrangements. These had been prepared for a long time. Lydia gasped in delight, throwing her arms around Gerrald. "Oh my God, they’re all in my size! And twenty-three... the year we met! Gerrald, you were thinking of me even back then, weren’t you?"

She pouted playfully and he only smiled, eyes brimming with indulgence.

I looked down at my own plain silver ring—the one he had given me the day he proposed. It was too small, cutting into my skin every time I moved my finger. I had tried to take it off before, but I never could. And yet, those diamond rings—each an exact fit for Lydia—meant that he had never forgotten her size. It wasn’t carelessness. It wasn’t forgetfulness. He had never truly seen me at all.

Standing beside them, I felt like the punchline to a cruel joke. I turned on my heel and hurried to the restroom. Splashing ice-cold water onto my face, I tried to wash away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. But no amount of water could cleanse the ache searing my chest.

As I stepped out of the restroom, I collided into a warm embrace. Gerrald.

He pressed a delicate bottle of perfume into my hands, his voice soft with feigned tenderness. "Are you jealous? Today is my mom’s birthday—I couldn’t refuse her. Agreeing to marry Lydia is just for show. Those dresses and rings? They’re just to please her."

His fingers brushed against my cheek. "Once I go abroad, I’ll explain everything to her. You and I... we’re the real couple. We have the marriage license."

His voice dipped lower, coaxing, cajoling. "Jenny, I promise you, after this month, I’ll tell my mother the truth. I’ll make our relationship public. I’ll give you the grand wedding you deserve."

He lifted the perfume bottle with a smirk. "I know how much you love perfumes. This one was difficult to get—it’s a brand-new creation by the top international perfumer. See how much I love you?"

I gripped the bottle, my fingers tightening around the glass. How laughable.

This perfume was one of the wedding favors prepared for his ceremony with Lydia. He had invited thousands of guests to celebrate their union, each receiving this very same bottle as a token of their love. And now, he had the audacity to hand it to me, spinning another lie, thinking I would believe it. My fingers curled around the cold glass, my knuckles white.

I smiled. "Thank you, Gerrald."

And in my heart, I vowed— This would be the last time he would ever deceive me.