Chapter 2

After leaving the banquet, Lizzie slipped into the car. She dismissed the driver, then dialed her lawyer friend.

"I want a divorce from Cedric."

The line went silent for a long beat before a startled voice answered, "You're serious?"

"Look into his situation as quickly as possible. Draft a divorce agreement for me—the sooner, the better."

Her voice was too calm, almost unnervingly so.

The lawyer, realizing this wasn't a drunken impulse or a quarrel's aftermath, finally said, "All right. I'll move fast."

"Thank you."

When the call ended, Lizzie stared blankly at her phone.

The screen saver was still their wedding photo. She had never smiled brighter in her life—and now it only mocked her.

"Lizzie, I'll love you for this life, the next, and the one after that. My love will never change.

"Lizzie, marrying you is the blessing of lifetimes. I'll make you happy every day. I'll never let you cry.

"Lizzie, let's have a baby. They'll be the proof of our love. They'll be the most adorable child in the world."

"Lizzie… Lizzie…"

Her heart felt gnawed apart inch by inch.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. 'Cedric, you've forgotten your vows. And our child…'

She shut her eyes. Her nails dug deep into the leather seat, her lips trembling as silent tears streamed down.

She deliberately waited until nightfall before returning to the familiar house.

Aside from a few servants, there was no sign of Cedric.

"Mr. Lannister hasn't come back?" she asked. Even if he wasn't home, surely he had sent his beloved back. "And Susan? She didn't return either?"

The servant looked puzzled. "Madam, Sir hasn't returned. And I haven't seen anyone by the name Susan."

Lizzie froze, then slowly slipped into her slippers, her lips curving in a strained smile.

So he wasn't coming home tonight.

"All right. Go rest."

"Yes, madam."

In her previous life, when Cedric brought Susan home and introduced her, Lizzie had refused outright.

Not only refused—she had slapped him across the face and hurled cruel words at Susan.

He'd flown into a rage then and there, storming off with Susan, ignoring every disapproving gaze around them.

It had looked exactly like an elopement.

Cedric hadn't changed. When he loved, he was reckless and unrestrained. Only now, the person he loved had changed.

He once told her that in their world, every wealthy man had a few "kindred spirits" outside marriage. Whether he slept with them or not—it was a matter of impulse.

Cedric simply took that creed to its extreme.

Did he ever remember the vows he once made to her, when whispering sweet words to Susan?

Lizzie took a deep breath.

It no longer mattered. She hadn't been reborn to salvage a marriage that wasn't worth saving.

Turning off the lights, she headed upstairs.

But before she reached the landing, the front door opened.

Cedric walked in, with Susan at his side.

"Has Lizzie not come home yet? Or is she already asleep?" Susan's delicate voice floated into the hall.

Cedric glanced around. "She should be asleep by now. She always turns in early."

Susan nodded gently, then whispered with unease, "Cedric, is it really all right for me to stay here? Today, I thought Lizzie looked upset… maybe she doesn't like me. Should I—"

She turned as if to leave, but he stopped her with an arm. "Nonsense."

Her eyes reddened, brimming with fragile sorrow, never leaving his face.

Their gazes locked.

And then, his lips moved closer to hers.

Under the dim glow of the entryway lamp, their entwined silhouettes pierced Lizzie's eyes like knives.

In love, it is always the new who laugh, and the old who weep.

She tore her gaze away, her lips curling faintly with indifference, and quietly turned back toward her room.

That night, Cedric did not return to their bedroom.

He went instead to the guest room she had prepared for Susan.

Even though they tried to restrain themselves, Lizzie still heard the sounds—low, intimate, and sexual.

How blind she had been in her past life.

They had already been so deeply entangled, and she hadn't seen it.

She thought he would stay with Susan until morning.

Perhaps guilt—or the reminder that his wife was still next door—made him return in the end.

Sliding into bed, he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "You've been so tired lately. Could it be… that you're pregnant?"

Her eyes snapped open in the dark.

Pregnant?

Yes—last time, three months before Susan's appearance, she had just begun trying. It was around this very time she'd learned she was expecting.

She couldn't let that tragedy repeat.

Under the covers, her fingers clutched at the fabric over her belly, trembling. "No."

"Then I'll take you for a check-up soon. If not, we'll try harder." His lips brushed her neck, his hands tightening, his desire obvious.

She couldn't comprehend it.

How could a man climb from another woman's bed and, without shame, speak of creating a child with his wife?

Perhaps shame had long since ceased to exist.

"Cedric," she whispered, needing to hear him say it, "do you really think we should have a baby?"

Cedric fell silent.

He was hesitating, because he already had Susan.

The only reason he wanted a child with Lizzie was due to the pressure from their families—not any dream of love's offspring.

"If you're not ready, we can wait," he finally said, his voice cooling, relief barely concealed.

Her chest chilled. Once again, he had shifted the burden onto her.

"Cedric… do you still love me?"

The question broke the night's stillness like a knife.

She wondered if he would answer honestly, or avoid it altogether.

After all, he had Susan. There was no love between him and Lizzie left to protect.

In their worst fights before, she had demanded why he had chosen another.

He had glared at her, vicious and unrepentant. "Lizzie, you can't compare to Susan at all! How could I still love you?"

That answer had already been given, in another lifetime.

But tonight, she wanted to see if her compliance would wring even a single guilty lie from him. Perhaps he would say: Of course I love you.

The silence that followed was answer enough.

He had stopped loving her the moment Susan appeared in his life.

"Are you still upset that she's moved in?"

Lizzie stared at the faint moonlight beyond the window.

Did her answer matter?

If it did, he wouldn't need to ask.

"She's homeless," Cedric said impatiently. "By helping her, we're pulling her out of the mud. Why wouldn't we? Lizzie, can't you rein in that jealous streak of yours?"