When I opened the bag, a limited-edition designer baby blanket lay inside.

My gaze darkened slightly.

Ever since I became a father, every gift Georgia gave me had something to do with the child.

It was clear—she wanted to bind me tighter and tighter to the role of “Lewis’s father.”

Not a husband. Not a man. Just the father of her child.

My phone buzzed twice in quick succession.

The law firm I had previously contacted had finally responded.

[We heard Attorney Greene had temporarily stepped back to care for his child—what a surprise to see you reaching out again.]

[With you joining us, our team will undoubtedly grow even stronger.]

[Looking forward to working with you.]

I replied with a polite message, exited the conversation, and saw a new friend request pop up.

The verification message was just three words.

[It’s me, Reniel.]

The moment I accepted, a message came through with a photo.

There were bloodstains on the towel, and the bedsheet was still damp with lingering traces.

[Your wife said I satisfy her more—and that she wants to give me her "first time" after getting a repair procedure.]

The implication was clear.

A freshly graduated kid, with nothing to his name, clinging to Georgia’s affection as if it were the whole world.

He thought she’d given him her “entire heart.”

And now he was desperate to prove himself. To flaunt his supposed place in her life.

Youth always has a way of charging headfirst into the fire.

And at that moment, I saw myself—years ago.

At sixteen, Georgia and I were the only two students from our small town to get into a prestigious high school.

Her parents, both teachers, were so proud they threw three days’ worth of banquets.

On the other hand, I didn’t even dare tell my guardians.

My biological parents died when I was eight, and I was taken in by my uncle.

Living under someone else’s roof taught me early on how to read faces and keep my head down.

That night, I still remember the smell of liquor in the room.

Three or four beer bottles rolled under my uncle’s chair as he toasted the factory manager, casting me a glance.

“My damn sister died too early, leaving me this burden to feed.”

“Good thing it’s a boy, and strong enough. Should fetch a decent price, right?”

“Of course,” the factory manager chuckled.

“Eighty percent of his wages will go to you, ten percent as an agent fee. Fair deal.”

Just a few drinks, a few crude words, and the path of my life was sealed.

So when Georgia excitedly found me and asked when I’d report to the new school, I stammered, unable to speak a full sentence.

Then the front door creaked open.

My uncle's voice came with a greasy smile. “This boy is in great shape. Just say the word and I’ll send him over.”

They looked me up and down like I was livestock.

“I’m not going to school,” I muttered. “I’m going to work.”

There was a long pause.

“Do you want to go?” Georgia asked, her voice quiet and uncertain.

My silence was her answer.

That night, she came back.

Under the cover of darkness, her eyes sparkled brighter than the stars.

“I brought money,” she whispered. “Let’s go. You’re going to school.”

My dying parents had begged me to obey my uncle, to be good.

But at that moment, I only wanted to grab Georgia’s hand and run.

In high school, I was mocked relentlessly for my accent, my old clothes.

Meanwhile, Georgia—bright, and outgoing quickly became friends with the city kids.

One day, sensing my unease, she pulled me into a corner.

“Emerson, if you don’t like me hanging out with them, I’ll stop. I’ll only stay with you.”

“Just don’t hate me, okay?”

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.

All my bottled-up emotions burst out.

I wept in silence while she waited patiently, saying nothing—just letting me pour out everything I had buried inside.

From then on, she always found me during lunch breaks. Sat beside me in the far corner of the cafeteria.

Every day, we shared a bowl of plain porridge that cost just fifty cents.

When classmates gave us strange looks, Georgia remained calm and unapologetically firm.

“I’m from a small town too. If you look down on Emerson, then you’re looking down on me.”

Georgia and I had scored the exact same marks on our college entrance exams.

Curious and hopeful, I asked her which university she wanted to apply to.

Without hesitation, she said, “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

Georgia’s love had always been passionate and sincere.

“Do you like—” Just as I was about to ask, my uncle stormed into view.

His eyes were bloodshot with rage. “There you are, you little bastard!”

“You've got guts now, huh? Fooling around with a girl?”

“Because you ran off, I couldn’t deliver you on time and nearly got my legs broken!”

The steel pipe in his hand was as thick as an arm. He swung it toward me without warning.

But Georgia threw herself in front of me, shielding me with her own body.

I couldn’t see anything because she pressed me to the ground so tightly—but the sharp scent of blood began to flood the air.

When she was taken away in the ambulance, her eyes were scrunched shut from the pain, and her voice was barely audible.

“I do like you..."

"Will you be with me?”

My uncle was sentenced to three years in prison for intentional assault.

When we arrived in the capital for college, Georgia still had surgical screws in her hand.

After graduation, we chose to start a business together.

In a cramped basement apartment, we once shared a single bowl of porridge for dinner.

My courage had been born in three moments.

The first was when I ran away with her that night. The second when I confessed in that blood-stained ambulance, and the last was when I chose to start a business despite the odds.

So now, when I saw the photo Reniel sent me, I had no courage left to face it.

The girl who once sat beside me eating plain porridge under the moonlight—pure, quiet, radiant—had been swallowed by luxury, lust, and noise.

It took me a week to pack up everything that belonged to me and my son.

During that time, Georgia never came home.

But the news about her never stopped flooding my ears.

She took Reniel to business banquets, walking hand-in-hand, flaunting their intimacy.

She bought the entire new collection of luxury watches—just to make him smile.

One press release even said she rented out the top floor of Paramount Hotel. After dinner with Reniel, they watched a private fireworks show on the rooftop.

The numbness in my chest slowly twisted into a dull ache.

Her bold displays had landed the headline [CEO of Herrera Group Rumored to Be Facing Divorce] firmly at the top of trending searches.

The comment section was buzzing.

[If I were her, I’d pick the assistant too. Youth is priceless.]

[If they dare show up in public like this, they’re probably already divorced.]

[Let’s be honest—men age twice as fast after 25. Powerful women want younger men now.]

[She and the assistant really do look more matched.]

I still remember when a gossip reporter once tried to spread rumors about me and Georgia breaking up.

Before the article could go live, Georgia blocked it entirely.

She made that reporter apologize publicly—and after that day, he vanished from the industry.

She knew how much I cared. She was always extra cautious about any news involving us.

But now... it feels like she’s quietly pulling down the curtain on our marriage.

I returned to my office. Piles of paperwork towered on my desk.

I’d taken a week off, and Georgia hadn’t once asked where I’d gone.

Brushing the files aside, I called my assistant in.

When I handed her the department access pass labeled [Director of Legal Affairs], her pupils widened.

“I’m transferring full permissions to you,” I told her calmly.

“Let the system know—any documents that Georgia doesn’t have time to approve of should no longer be forwarded to the Legal Department.”

“Sir, you’re not seriously splitting with President Herrera...”

I nodded. “It’s over.”

After processing every backlog of paperwork, I picked up the divorce agreement and headed to the top floor.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I could hear the sound of laughter and chatter echoing down the corridor.

“Reniel, you’re still keeping a low profile? I just heard the news from Sabrina today!”

“Seriously, no one else could take that spot beside President Herrera except you.”

“We’re just waiting for the official announcement—once that happens, you’ll have to take care of us, alright?”

Reniel was sitting at the assistant’s desk, laughing without restraint.

When he saw me, he showed no hint of surprise.

“Emerson, are you here to see President Herrera?”

I hadn’t been in the office for a week. In that short time, Georgia’s office had turned into a showroom filled with mannequins and designer men’s suits.

Reniel gave me a casual smile. “President Herrera is taking me to a banquet tonight.”

“She didn’t know what I should wear, so she brought in the entire new collection for me to choose from.”

When our son was just born, I was stretched thin in every direction.

Georgia’s office was spacious, so I carefully asked if I could store the baby’s bottle and bottle warmer in there.

However, she snapped at me on the spot. “This is an office, not a nursing room!”

“Are you trying to constantly remind me I’m still breastfeeding, just to guilt me into nursing Lewis?”

“Don’t even think about it!”

It seems some boundaries were only flexible for certain people.

I lowered my gaze and said flatly, “Georgia, this is the divorce agreement.”

“I’ve already signed it.”

Only then did she pause what she was doing and look at the documents I placed in front of her. Her brows furrowed.

“Take it back. I’m not signing—”

Before she could finish, a loud gasp interrupted her.

Reniel was holding up a pair of dress pants, clearly marked with a visible shoe print.

“President Herrera,” he said with tears brimming in his eyes, “this was the last design my father created before he passed.”

Georgia’s expression turned tender with concern.

“Go clean off the mark,” she said.

Then she turned to me, eyes sharp and voice commanding.

“You stepped on it. Clean it.”

“I didn’t,” I replied calmly. “So I won’t.”

Reniel's sobs only grew louder. “You’re the only one who walked past it—who else could it be?!”

“You know exactly what you did!”

Just then, Reniel’s phone rang.

He answered and turned on the speakerphone.

The voice on the other end exploded from the speaker, “You damn pretty boy! Who told you to seduce Georgia?”

“You homewrecking scum! I swear I’ll get justice for Emerson!”

Reniel looked shaken. “President Herrera, I suddenly started getting all these hate messages...”

I could see the irritation on Georgia’s face deepen.

“You did this?” she snapped at me. “Bullying a fresh graduate? Don’t you feel even a little ashamed, Emerson?!”

She snatched the pen, signed the agreement with a harsh stroke, then threw the documents on the floor.

“You disgust me!”

I bent down, picked up the papers, and without sparing them another glance, I turned and left.

Behind me, her chair creaked with the weight of her heavy breathing.

Suddenly, she saw a small bundle of hair pressed under the divorce agreement.

Her pupils shrank instantly.

She bolted from the office, but by then, I was already gone.

Downstairs, she arrived just in time to watch me get into a red convertible Ferrari.