Chapter 2

"Exactly! Cynthia has been running all over the country on business—even during the New Year—for you and your company, while you sit comfortably in your office enjoying the benefits. And now, you're suspecting your own wife of fooling around? Do you have any conscience at all?"

My father-in-law, his face full of disappointment, pointed at me as he rebuked me, as if I had committed some unforgivable crime.

I thought of the way they had looked at Bobby just moments ago—so satisfied, so pleased. And then I thought of how, no matter how much money I had given them over the years, they had always remained distant and polite.

Only then did I finally understand: no matter what I did, I would never warm this family's hearts.

The truth settled cold and clear in my chest. Just as I was about to speak, the child in Cynthia's arms suddenly lashed out, kicking at me viciously.

"Bad guy, go away! Don't bully my mommy and daddy!"

The words "mommy and daddy" struck me like a knife.

Once, Cynthia and I had a child too.

Back then, I had been filled with joy at the thought of becoming a father. I bought her a house and a car to celebrate. I hired the best caregivers and a postpartum nanny to take care of her.

But before three months had passed, she tearfully told me she had slipped and lost the baby.

I still remembered how she had looked—face streaked with tears, grief-stricken. My heart had shattered, yet I held her close and comforted her.

"It's okay, honey. It's not your fault. We'll have another child."

To reassure her, I even transferred several shares into her name, afraid she might think I loved the child more than I loved her.

Never had I imagined that she had already borne another man's child—and that, over a single jealous remark from Bobby, she had decisively aborted ours.

The abortion certificate shown in that video was nothing less than a brutal mockery of all the love and devotion I had given her over the years.

It was laughable—utterly, bitterly laughable.

"If it's just a godchild, would he call you 'mommy and daddy'? What else do you have to say?"

I looked at Cynthia indifferently.

There was nothing left in my heart but ice.

She faltered for a moment, guilt flickering across her face, but still retorted stubbornly, "What's there to explain? Kids don't know any better. Calling familiar adults 'mommy and daddy'—what's so strange about that?

"Johnny, are you so bored you came all this way just to pick a fight? If you insist on accusing me of being unfaithful, then fine—we can go to the courthouse right now and file for divorce!"

As she spoke, she looked at me with utter heartbreak, tears streaming down her face.

In the past, I would have already been filled with guilt, pulling her into my arms to comfort her.

But now, all I felt was ridicule.

How had I never realized she was such a talented actress?

Bobby walked over, placing a hand on my shoulder in disapproval.

"Johnny, you should cherish a wife as beautiful and capable as her. How can you doubt her innocence without reason?

"I grew up with Cynthia. I know her character better than anyone. She would never do anything to betray you."

He said all the right things—but in the depths of his eyes, I caught a flicker of mockery and disdain.

The anger in my chest surged even higher.

"Get lost. Don't put on that fake act in front of me." I shrugged his hand off.

"Bobby!"

Cynthia rushed forward and kicked me.

"What right do you have to hit someone? When you have no argument, you just start making a scene—how crude!"

My mother-in-law hurried to help Bobby up from the ground, glaring at me as she cursed,

"Do you even want to stay married to Cynthia or not? If you don't, then get lost! Our family doesn't need a petty, abusive man like you!"

Bobby lowered his head, pressing his lips together.

"Mom, please stop. This is all my fault. I only wanted to mediate between them, but I ended up upsetting Johnny instead.

"I'll take the child and leave now. You all should go back and talk things through as a family. There's nothing that can't be resolved."

As he spoke, he reached for the child to leave. But the boy burst into tears, clinging to Cynthia. "I want Mommy! Bad man, go away! Waaaah—"

He shook off Bobby's hand and rushed at me, hitting and kicking.

A familiar pain flared in my stomach—the lingering ache from drinking too much the night before. Instinctively, I pushed him away.

Cynthia let out a sharp scream and shoved me hard into a flowerbed.

Jagged stones slammed into my lower back, sending a piercing pain through my body.

Her eyes filled with distress as she looked at the child—then she turned to me and roared with fury.