Chapter One

I had always known my husband was having an affair, but today’s revelation was different.

Unease prickled down my spine as I saw the trending topic on X.

There it was. Number two.

CEO of Hart Finances Ltd., Stanley Hart, is expecting a child with his wife after three years of childlessness.

The woman with Stan in the picture wasn’t me. It was his secretary; the same woman who constantly texted him at late hours; the one he constantly compared me to.

They looked happy, about to clink their glasses. Stan never showed me off to the public. Our marriage had always been secret because he emphasized on how camera- unworthy I was.

Not fit for the wife of a billionaire. But she was: with her perfect figure and glowing skin, they looked meant for each other.

‘She’s pretty,‘isn’t she?’ The hairdresser’s voice made me glance up.

‘Who?’ I asked.

She gestured to the picture on my phone. ‘Stan Hart’s wife, the woman in the picture.’

‘Oh…’my chest grew tighter.

‘He’s so lucky to have a woman like that,’ another hairdresser chimed in.

‘But of course he’d go for someone that beautiful,’ another hairdresser added. ‘Imagine him ending up with someone…’

Plain. Boring. Third class. That was how Stan always referred to me, compared to his Barbie doll of a secretary.

I wanted to scream at all of them, telling them I was the real wife. I was the one who endured three years with Stan, not the woman in the picture.

But I didn’t. Instead I paid for my hair and left the salon quietly.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the beautiful house Stan and I lived in the black Cadillac Stan had gifted me during our first anniversary.

My chest ached as I remembered how everything had been going well for us during that first year.

Stan had been my teenage crush and I’d stare at him as my mom cleaned the house.

Sometimes I’d sneak into his room when he wasn’t around just to get his smell from his shirts.

What started as harmless fun with the maid’s daughter had turned into something serious, and then I got married to my crush with a pregnancy that I hadn’t planned for.

My chest tightened even more as I reminisced on the good days.

The maids and cook greeted me warmly as I entered the house, but something wasn’t right.

I caught a whiff of an unfamiliar perfume as I walked to the master bedroom I and Stan slept in.

I was stunned when I opened the door.

On the bed sat Amy, wearing my dressing robe.

Stan was quite open about his affair with his secretary but he never brought her to the house.

Until now, it seemed.

‘Why are you in my room?’ I walked towards her, disgust clearly etched on my face.

‘Oh. You haven’t heard?’ She arched a perfectly lined brow. ‘Stan and I are going to have a baby.’

‘Doesn’t answer my question,’ I clenched my fists, ready to wipe that smug expression off her face.

‘I’m staying here now. The baby and I need a good environment,’ she stood up and got closer to me. ‘Something you wouldn’t understand, you barren bitch.’

I snapped and shoved her. She fell to the bed and immediately let out a scream.

Abruptly, the bathroom door opened and Stan emerged with only a towel around his waist.

‘Harper, what the hell!’ He raced towards us and helped Amy up immediately.

‘She hit me, Stan. I think I need to go to the hospital… ah! The baby!’ Amy gave out exaggerated gasps.

‘I didn’t hit her. I-‘

‘Shut up Harper!’ Stan turned to me with rage in his eyes. ‘So you thought it was a good idea to kill my child?’

‘You bringing her to our home shows you have absolutely no respect for our marriage,’ I yelled at him.

‘Marriage? And you think I’m proud being married to someone as plain and barren as you?’

‘But you never complained…’

‘I provided for you and that sickly mother of yours,’ he growled. ‘You should thank me every day you wake up in this house. Women like you don’t survive outside men like me.’

I gasped.

‘Amy’s carrying my child now. So you will show her some respect, understood?’

I understood and I knew he did too. He was using his money to blackmail me into being an obedient puppy.

Not this time.

I walked out of the room and called Mr Andrews- the family lawyer.

I had already begun the divorce process for over a year now without Stan’s knowledge, but I haven’t dared to sign the papers.

This was more than enough to summon my courage.

Later that night, as I lay on the bed in the guest bedroom, I held the divorce papers in my hand, ready to sign.

But it didn’t feel right.

I walked towards our bedroom, ready to wake Stan up and try to win him back. Surely he must still love me.

But as I approached, I could hear the soft moans and grunts from within.

They were making love, on our marital bed.

My throat choked with tears and I ran quickly to the guest room. Without blinking an eye, I appended my signature before the tears wet the paper.

The next day, I waited until they left before sending the mail to Stan in his office.

Somewhere in my heart, I wanted to believe he didn’t want me to leave. He wouldn’t sign the papers and we’d resolve any issues we had.

And as the papers arrived back home to me without wasting time, my heart leaped for joy.

Of course Stan couldn’t sign the papers; he didn’t a divorce. Not like this. He still loved me.

I opened the papers and checked the space for his signature:

He had signed, along with a check of a thousand dollars.

For three whole years of marriage.

I had thought the pain I would feel would make me scream in agony, but I didn’t. I held the papers calmly in my hands, my chest ready to burst open with all the grief bottles up.

No love, no asset; just a thousand dollars.

And deep down, a chilling thought settled:

What if walking away from him was the most terrible decision I had ever made?