My phone ran out of battery, so I borrowed my husband’s to quickly search on Google what kind of Valentine’s Day gift would surprise a man.

Unexpectedly, I stumbled upon his browsing history:

“Having unprotected sex with a Black girl—will that give me AIDS?”

“If I can make a foreign woman climax three times in one night, does that mean I’m strong?”

“Do illegitimate children from international affairs have inheritance rights?”

My whole body stiffened, and a terrible premonition shot straight up my spine.

When my husband came out after his shower, I immediately asked:

“Have you been troubled by something lately?”

Daniel Foster froze.

“Well, actually, yeah! We’ve been married for five years without having a child. How about we adopt one?”

“I’ve heard Black babies are smart—why don’t we adopt a mixed-race one?”

I forced a smile. “Sure!”

Then I immediately called my childhood friend, a lawyer:

“What’s the maximum sentence for bigamy?”

“…”

There was a short silence on the other end before a deep voice said:

“That bastard Daniel really dared to cheat on you?”

My throat felt dry; I paused before speaking again:

“I’m not sure, but he said he wants to adopt a Black baby.”

“And in his search history, he was asking if cooking with Black women could transmit AIDS.”

The voice cursed and then warned me urgently:

“Stay away from him and get a full medical check-up right now!”

Then came the rustling sound of movement.

“Wait for me—I’m flying back immediately!”

The call had barely ended when my phone buzzed with a friend request.

The avatar was a chibi devil girl.

As soon as I accepted, a message popped up:

“Being a mom without labor pain feels great, doesn’t it?”

I was still puzzled when the doorbell rang.

My husband walked in carrying a large cardboard box.

“Sweetheart, surprise!

“It’s Valentine’s Day today, and I got you a special gift. Open it, quick!”

He placed the box on the coffee table in front of me.

I froze for a second, thinking maybe I had misunderstood him.

After all, he had never been this thoughtful on Valentine’s Day before.

With a hint of hope, I carefully unwrapped the box.

The next second, a piercing cry nearly shattered my eardrums.

My eyes widened in disbelief as I looked inside.

It was a dark-skinned infant.

The baby’s mouth was wide open, crying at the top of his lungs.

“Well? Do you like it?”

“You agreed just yesterday, and today I’ve already brought the baby home. Don’t be too touched—from now on, you’ll be his mother!”

Daniel stood proudly in front of me, chest puffed out.

A surge of fury rose inside me; I had to take several deep breaths to hold it back.

Turning my head toward him in disbelief, I asked:

“You actually dared to bring him home?”

Daniel didn’t notice the change in my expression and kept rambling excitedly:

“I did my research. Black babies are the smartest. If you raise him from the start, he’ll definitely grow up grateful and loyal to you!”

“From now on, hand the company over to me and just focus on raising our child at home!”

His selfish calculations were written all over his face.

I finally lost control and slapped him hard across his cheek.

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

“Why should I raise someone else’s unwanted bastard?”

Daniel was stunned by the slap.

It took him a while to react.

Then he frowned, looking at me like I was being unreasonable:

“Don’t call him a bastard—it sounds so harsh. He just doesn’t have a father, that’s all!”

“And besides,” Daniel continued, “you’ve never been able to have kids. So what’s wrong with me adopting one? At least I didn’t mess around outside!”

So, in his mind, my infertility was the problem.

But when we first got married, I did have a child.

Unfortunately, that was when Daniel was diagnosed with liver cancer. To donate part of my liver to save him, I had to terminate the pregnancy even though the baby was already formed.

That damaged my health, making it hard for me to conceive again.

Seeing my cold expression, Daniel finally realized he had said the wrong thing.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that. If you can’t accept this, I’ll take the baby back for now. When you come around, we can decide again.”

Afraid of angering me further, Daniel quickly packed up the box and carried the baby away.

Not long after, the devil-avatar girl messaged again:

“Well? Don’t you think my baby looks a lot like his dad?”

My grip on the phone tightened as her taunting words stabbed my heart.

I was almost certain now—this was Daniel’s mistress.

Compelled by a dark impulse, I tapped into her social media feed.

The first post showed a glittering sapphire necklace worth millions.

The caption read:

“Thanks, darling. You know I don’t want to raise a kid, so you sent him to your nagging wife instead! You said this necklace was my compensation.”

That very necklace—I had found it in Daniel’s suit jacket three days ago.

I’d thought he had finally wised up and bought me a gift.

Touched, I had carefully put it back.

But it hadn’t been for me at all.

Hands trembling, I scrolled further.

One photo was from a delivery room: a Black hand and a White hand clasped tightly together.

On the White hand gleamed a diamond ring—the same one Daniel and I had chosen for our wedding.

The caption: “Having a baby alone is scary, but with him, it’s different. He says I’m better than a useless hen who can’t lay eggs!”

The post was dated July 15th.

The very day I had my car accident.

Trapped in the wreckage and bleeding heavily, I had thought I might die.

Struggling, I had called Daniel over and over, but he never answered.

I assumed he was in a meeting and sent him a text:

“I love you. Even without me, you must live strong.”

But in truth, that day he had been with this woman, welcoming her child.

A flood of betrayal and fury consumed me.

I immediately sent screenshots of her posts to a top private investigator:

“You have two days. I want everything on this woman and Daniel.”

The reply came quickly: “Understood.”

As every minute passed, my heart burned with anxiety.

Finally, my phone pinged with a message.

It was a full-body photo of the woman.

No way.

My eyes went wide in shock, my blood rushing in reverse.

Joanna Brown.

An international student from Africa.

My cousin’s best friend, currently interning at my company alongside her.

I had watched her belly grow and personally approved her maternity leave.

Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine the child she carried belonged to my husband.

Daniel returned home soon after.

I slipped my phone away and asked in disbelief:

“Where did you take the baby?”

Daniel, while changing his shoes, answered confidently:

“I sent him to my mom’s place in the next neighborhood. She’ll help us take care of him for a few days. Once you come around, we’ll bring him back.”

“Then we’ll throw him a grand baby shower so everyone knows you’re his mother. All our assets will go to him!”

I raised my hand to cut him off. “Stop. I’m not going to raise a lump of coal.”

Daniel’s face darkened instantly, his brows furrowing.

“Claire Miller, are you looking down on him?”

“If you could have a baby, would I need to adopt?”

“Either way, I’m throwing that baby shower!”

With that, he stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

The next day, I went to the hospital for a check-up.

Thankfully, everything came back normal.

After receiving the report, my secretary called:

“Ms. Miller, you’d better come to the company. Today’s payday, but Mr. Foster insisted that Finance pay Joanna an extra hundred thousand dollars. Finance says it needs your approval, but Mr. Foster claimed that from now on, he’s in charge of everything.”

Anger flared in me, and I rushed to the company.

The Finance Department was already in chaos.

Daniel was slamming the table, shouting:

“Joanna is our company’s lucky charm. Since she arrived, how many big deals have we closed this month?”

“As vice president, I’m only asking for an extra hundred thousand for her. Why is that a problem?”

The finance clerk kept her head down, wringing her hands in silence.

Daniel grew more furious and raised his hand to strike her.

I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist.

“Mr. Foster, what a temper!”

“Those deals were closed by the entire sales team—why are you giving all the credit to Joanna, just a junior assistant?”

Because I had taken leave earlier that morning, Daniel hadn’t expected me to show up.

Straightening his jacket, he forced himself to calm down.

“This isn’t your concern!”

“As vice president, do I not even have this much authority?”

Joanna seized the chance to step forward with a feigned air of graciousness.

“Forget it, Mr. Foster. Ms. Miller has a bad temper. If this blows up, you’ll lose face at the company.”

I hadn’t even said a word, yet suddenly I was the one with the bad temper?

And of course, Daniel fell for her act—his gaze on Joanna soft and tender, while the look he gave me was full of resentment and hostility.

“See? Even a foreigner understands human decency better than you do.”

“A man has to save face in public. Even if you outrank me at the company, I’m still your husband. Sometimes, you really should listen to me!”

I froze.

Suddenly it all became clear—this was his revenge for my refusal to accept the baby yesterday.

He wanted to show me that between us, it was his word that counted.

I remembered when Daniel had proposed to me at twenty-three:

“From now on, whether body or heart, I’ll belong only to Claire Miller. Whatever Claire says is law, and everything of mine will be hers to control!”

So vows of love only mattered when two people were still in love.

Taking a deep breath, I pointed at Joanna.

“Settle her wages and fire her.”

Daniel’s eyes bulged.

“You’re deliberately going against me, aren’t you?”

I roared:

“One more word, and you can pack up and leave with her!”

That remark stripped him of all dignity.

His face turned ashen, his glare so venomous it felt like he wanted to devour me whole.

“Claire, do you really think just because the company is under your name, you’re above me?”