"Someone is definitely trying to set me up! Believe me!"

I looked at the timestamp on the photo. A month ago.

That night, Tyler came home late, reeking of alcohol. He said he'd passed out in an empty room at the club for three hours.

Turns out he'd passed out in another woman's bed.

I exhaled slowly, completely drained.

"The time and place are right there. What's left to argue?"

"Tyler, no one is setting you up."

"Stop lying to me."

But he grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let go.

"There has to be some misunderstanding! I'll explain everything!"

He called Quinn Gilbert, his assistant, and ordered him to find the woman in the photo within thirty minutes.

Maybe some part of me still trusted Tyler. Or maybe I was just lying to myself.

Either way, I followed him back into the private room.

The beautiful women were gone. Only Tyler's inner circle remained, their faces grim.

The moment he pulled me inside, they all started talking over each other.

"There has to be a misunderstanding. You have to believe Tyler."

"He's so devoted—he won't even hire female secretaries. No way he'd betray you."

"Remember when his grandma refused to approve your marriage? Tyler locked himself in his study and threatened to die if he couldn't marry you."

I didn't speak. Just stared at the tips of my shoes.

Back then, Tyler had locked himself away for five days. No food. No water.

Only after Samantha Gilbert, his grandmother, finally agreed did he come out.

He'd lost so much weight he barely looked human.

I cried and called him stupid.

But he held me tight and whispered, "If I can't marry you, there's no point in living."

Neither of us could've imagined it then.

That a few years later, he'd do something this disgusting.

The door swung open.

The woman was even prettier in person.

The instant she saw me, she dropped to her knees.

"Ma'am! Please—give Tyler to me! I'm begging you!"

Tears slid down my cheeks again.

I stood there, numb, as she clutched at my clothes.

Tyler rushed over and yanked her away. He towered over her, eyes blazing.

"Who the hell are you?! Why are you doing this?! Why are you trying to ruin me?!"

But she only cried harder.

"You're refusing to take responsibility?! That night, you told me you were divorcing your wife!"

"You said you loved me most! You said you'd marry me and make me Mrs. Gilbert!"

"Bullshit!"

Tyler completely lost it. His usual composure shattered.

"I was drunk, but not that drunk! I never said any of that! And I sure as hell didn't sleep with you!"

"Who sent you?! Who's trying to destroy my family?!"

The woman laughed through her tears—wild, unhinged.

"Everything you said, everything you did—why won't you admit it?!"

"I'm pregnant with your child. If you don't believe me, we'll do a DNA test. Then we'll see whose story falls apart."

After saying that, the woman turned to look at me.

Her eyes were full of smugness and provocation.

The private room went dead silent. Everyone froze.

Including Tyler.

A bitter laugh escaped me. Looking at the absurd scene before me, I only felt it was unbelievably ridiculous.

I shook off Tyler's hand and closed my eyes in pain.

"Tyler Gilbert."

"So this is the answer you're giving me."

After I ran out of the club, the weather had changed outside.

The cold wind wrapped around me, and I couldn't stop trembling.

Tyler caught up, reaching for me, but I stepped back.

"Emily! Listen to my explanation!"

"There must be some misunderstanding! I definitely didn't sleep with her!"

I closed my eyes, letting the cold wind cut across my face.

In my heart, I made my decision.

"Tyler, the facts are right in front of me—how can you still expect me to believe you?"

"You want me to follow you to the hospital and watch the DNA test prove that child really is yours?"

"Do you have to humiliate me this much? Do you have to grind my dignity under your feet?"

I looked at him. His face hadn't changed from five years ago—if anything, he'd grown more handsome.

But he felt like a stranger.

So unfamiliar I barely recognized him.

Tyler opened his mouth, but one of his buddies shouted from behind.

"Tyler! Hurry back—that woman's making a scene, saying she'll kill herself!"

Tyler shot him an impatient glare.

"If she wants to die, let her. What's that got to do with me?"

His buddy glanced between us and scratched his head awkwardly.

"Hypothetically speaking—if what she said is true, if that night you were drunk and that's the only reason it happened."

"Then if she kills herself today, that's two lives."

"What she's carrying really might be your child."

Tyler frowned, his expression conflicted.

After a moment's hesitation, he waved over his assistant.

"Make sure Mrs. Gilbert gets home safely."

Then he turned to me, reaching for my face. I dodged.

"Emily, go home and wait for me."

"It's a human life, after all. I'll handle it and come home."

I watched his retreating back and whispered in a voice only I could hear.

"Goodbye, Tyler."

I thought of three years ago, when his enemies kidnapped me. They threatened him—if he didn't give in, they'd take my life.

Tyler came for me without hesitation.

I escaped unharmed, but he took a knife to the shoulder.

Seeing him lying in a pool of blood, I sobbed uncontrollably.

But he touched my face and forced a smile uglier than tears.

"As long as you're okay."

"If something happened to you, I couldn't go on living."

Back then, Tyler probably never imagined.

That only two years later, our marriage would reach its end.

The moment I got home, Grandma Gilbert called.

"I heard that woman of Tyler's has a child?"

Same as always—blunt as a hammer.

I gave a soft hum.

"You and Tyler have been married all these years and still haven't given the Gilbert family a single heir. Now that Tyler has one, consider it a blessing."

"Don't be too jealous. At worst, keep the child and get rid of the mother."

I stared at the massive wedding photo of Tyler and me on the wall, and a self-mocking smile tugged at my lips.

"Got it."

After hanging up, I booked a flight to Norway.

Then I started packing.

Grandma Gilbert's meaning couldn't be clearer.

She wanted me to accept this child and keep living with Tyler.

But I refused to swallow this half-cooked meal.

Refused to share a husband with another woman.

Refused to let myself become ugly and unrecognizable, fighting someone over a man.

I took out the property division agreement Tyler had signed when he proposed.

Back then, he told me: if he was ever unfaithful after marriage, he'd leave with nothing. Everything would be mine.

He'd handed me the agreement himself—written at the time of the proposal—for safekeeping.

But now, I didn't want it anymore. I didn't want to owe him anything.

I redrafted the divorce agreement, signed it, and placed it on the shoe cabinet by the front door.

I stood in the doorway and looked around this home one last time.

Tyler Gilbert.

Goodbye.