Chapter 2

The door of the guest room clicked shut, and with it, the last fragments of the woman I used to be fell away.

I locked it. I leaned my back against the wood, sliding down until my knees hit the plush carpet. My hands, still trembling, came down to clutch my stomach.

Paternity test reports.

My mind raced back to the papers I had hastily shoved into my robe pocket. Hours ago, before my world shattered, I had gone through Julian’s personal filing cabinet looking for our medical insurance cards to register for my first prenatal appointment. Instead, I had found an old, misfiled medical file from his early twenties—a comprehensive fertility panel conducted during a brief, forgotten medical scare.

The diagnosis had been clear, stamped in cold, sterile ink: Severe oligospermia with genetic abnormalities. The doctors had given him less than a one percent chance of ever conceiving naturally.

Julian didn't know I had found it. He thought his secret was safe. But it wasn't. The child in my womb was probably his only chance, the doctors mentioned to him.

Now I understood why he had taken me to several medical tests before actually marrying me. My fertility rate was higher than that of an average woman. This was the sole reason he actually married me– to be successful in producing his heir.

The feeling of being used hurt me more than his betrayal.

I forced back my tears. I couldn't afford to cry. Crying was a luxury for people who had time. I had a countdown. The moment Julian realized I wasn't the submissive, fragile incubator he thought he bought, the gloves would come off.

Walking over to the vanity, I pulled out my burner phone—the one I had kept from my old life, before Julian had upgraded me to a sleek, tracked smartphone. I dialed a number I knew by heart.

It rang three times before a deep, steady voice answered.

"Izzy? Is everything alright? It’s late."

Hearing Liam's voice almost broke my resolve, but I clenched my fists, drawing strength from the anger burning in my chest.

"Liam," I whispered, looking out the window at the sprawling, dark grounds of the Walton estate. "I need you to help me disappear.”

***

The next day, Julian told me his mother had invited us to a family dinner.

His family resented me after he divorced Clara and married me. They didn't spare a single chance to bully me. Every time I complained to him, he would ask me to bear with it.

According to him, it was the bare minimum to tolerate in comparison to the loss he had gone through because of our marriage.

It was only now that I realised that it was not that he could not help me, he just didn't care at all.

I wanted to refuse the dinner. But Liam had asked me to wait for a week as he was currently out of the continent, and in this time span, I did not want to offend Julian or do anything that could create doubt in his mind for me. So, I just smiled and said, “Okay.”

Later that night, as we arrived at the Walton Main House, my eyes darted at Clara sitting leisurely on the dining chair next to Julian's mother, Brinda.

“If she is already here, why bother inviting me then?” I whispered. In his response, Julian only tightened his grip over my arms and said through gritted teeth. “I didn't know Mom had invited her as well.”

“It's just dinner, Diana. Mom likes her. So, try to be mature. Don't ruin it because of your jealousy,” he spat as he dragged me to greet his mother and Clara.

Brinda hugged her son and even threw Clara into his arms for greetings, and when our gaze met, she only smirked. “You came as well? Fine, let's eat first.”

Brinda intentionally made Julian sit next to Clara, and as if nothing had happened, Clara kept pushing food into Julian's plate. He smiled every time and praised her for still remembering his taste. She blushed all this while.

It wasn't looking like I was Julian's legal wife, and she was just his ex-partner. It looked like they were still married, and I was just his mistress, looked down on by everyone.

I was about to get up from the table, unable to witness this obscene event, when Brinda suddenly called me out. “My friend saw you at the maternity centre, Izzy. Are you pregnant?”