Chapter 1

After using my husband's credit card, I was anonymously reported for fraud. I showed them our marriage certificate to prove my innocence, only to be told that my marital status was still single.

Looking at the marriage certificate in my hands, I felt dizzy under the harsh interrogation room lights.

I clearly remembered that on the day Vivian Clarke threatened suicide, Lucas Richardson absolutely refused to go and comfort her, insisting on going through with our wedding ceremony.

I still remember his ice-cold tone at the time. "If she dies, she dies. What is she to me? Does she think she's worth abandoning you for?"

No matter how many people came to persuade him, he would not budge. It was only when I said I did not want someone dying on our wedding day that he reluctantly agreed to go.

Lucas was gone for three days, and I actually believed he was dealing with the suicide attempt. Now, the glaring family photo of three on the computer screen showed me just how foolish I had been.

His protective embrace when we were in that car accident, his red-rimmed eyes when I miscarried...

Were all of those fake too?

…

Eventually, I was released on bail with help from family and friends. I left the station in a daze, accompanied by the sympathetic gazes of the police officers.

I refused to believe that the husband I had lived with for six years had married someone else, not unless he admitted it to me himself.

The car picking me up stopped at the Richardson family residence. Tonight was Lucas' grandfather's 70th birthday, and I was there as planned.

As soon as I entered the hall, a thumbtack flew past my cheek. Ignoring the burning pain I felt on my face, I looked toward the source of the sound.

A little boy I had never seen before was brandishing a toy gun at me triumphantly. "You bad lady! I'm going to get rid of you for my mommy!"

He aimed the gun at me again, but I was too eager to find Lucas and get to the truth to pay him any mind. After scanning the living room but not seeing anyone, I pushed ahead to search inside the mansion.

As I passed a second-floor bedroom, I heard Lucas' sister, Jennifer Richardson's, voice from inside.

"Lucas, do you really plan to keep Nanette as your mistress forever?"

I froze, unconsciously holding my breath as I pressed my ear to the door. The response from inside made my nails dig deep into my palms.

"In Nanette's eyes, I'll never be more important than her work."

Lucas' voice carried a sense of self-mockery. "But Vivian is different. She suffered from depression because of me, and she even tried to kill herself for me.”

"Jennifer, I can't let down a woman who’s carried my child for nine months. She's not cold and tough like Nanette. Without me, she'll have nothing."

The voice that once whispered sweet comforting words to me at night had now become a blade that pierced through me.

"Nanette was beaten so badly by your enemies that she miscarried while trying to protect you. How can you betray her like this? You actually went to be with Vivian during her delivery!"

So this was it. My miscarriage had simply given him more time to spend with Vivian. I forced back my tears and forced myself to keep listening.

Jennifer's voice rose sharply in angry accusation. "If she hadn't used that bloody photo of Nanette to trick Nanette's mother, Emilia Jensen, into thinking Nanette was dead, how could her mother possibly have..."

Before she could finish, Lucas interrupted her. His tone was impatient, dismissive of my mother's death.

"How many times do I have to say this? Vivian has never experienced a mother's love. She just thought that if Nanette was gone, Emilia would treat her like a daughter.

"I gave her the cold shoulder for two months because of it, which made her depression even worse. Isn't that enough? Do you want to drive Vivian to her death?"

I instantly lost all strength and collapsed where I stood.

I had always thought that my mother's death was due to my negligence. During that time, my research project was about to yield results, and I spent almost all my time in the laboratory.

I had lived in guilt for four whole years, while for those same four years, the man beside me had simply watched me suffer. He had even secretly had a child with the killer who caused my mother's death.