Chapter 4

When Vanessa got home from the hospital, exhaustion hit her like a freight train.

She told one of the maids to prepare a gift box.

The maid smiled. "For Mr. Fabel?"

"Yeah. Our eighth anniversary's coming up."

Perfect timing.

Her flight to Italvia was booked for the same day. A clean break.

Once the maid left, Vanessa sat at the table and started filling the box. Her pregnancy test result went in first. Next, the termination papers. And finally, Cindy's pregnancy report.

She pictured him opening the box—watching the realization crash over him. Too bad she wouldn't be around to see the look on his face.

Later that night, Scott called at his usual time.

His voice dripped with fake warmth.

God, what a joke.

Then Vanessa heard it—Cindy's light, teasing voice in the background. She asked Scott what they should eat for dinner.

Silence stretched between them.

Vanessa didn't say a word.

Scott cleared his throat. "Uh, I had to rush out for a business meeting. Cindy... she's good at her job, so I brought her along."

Vanessa kept her voice even. "Oh, I know. She's capable. Otherwise, you wouldn't value her so much."

"I've got a video conference—I'll call you later," Scott blurted out, his voice tight with nerves. He hung up before she could say anything else.

Moments later, her phone buzzed with a DM.

From Cindy.

Vanessa had only accepted her friend request earlier that day.

The pic loaded fast.

Scott, dripping wet, towel hanging way too low.

The message? Pure venom.

[See that? Your man? Yeah, he just got done with me. Said he's tired of doing it with a stuck-up ice queen. Likes me soft. Real soft.]

Vanessa froze, nausea rolling in waves.

A year. Maybe longer. That's how long Scott had been crawling into Cindy's bed.

How many times had he swung by to pick Vanessa up from work, freshly showered after screwing Cindy?

Swallowing her disgust, Vanessa calmly replied to Cindy's message.

[Take it easy. Stress isn't good for that baby you're banking on.]

Send.

Then, silence. Just her, sitting on her bed.

She clicked on Cindy's profile and began scrolling.

And there it was—the whole affair laid out in selfies and captions.

[My hubby bought me this ring—love it so much!]

The photo? A flashy diamond ring.

Scott's comment underneath:

[Babe, as long as you're happy.]

Vanessa kept going.

[I was feeling down, so my hubby took me shopping. Let's see if he dares to upset me again next time!]

Scott's response?

[Honey, I'm sorry! Won't happen again!]

Another post caught Vanessa's eye.

[From now on, it's the three of us—feeling so blessed!]

Attached was a picture of Cindy's pregnancy checkup results.

Scott's comment?

[I've got you and the baby. Always. Love you, baby.]

Her stomach twisted so hard she thought she might throw up. But she didn't stop.

Another comment caught her eye—one from Scott's inner circle.

[Congrats! Scott, you better throw us a party soon!]

Everyone had known.

While she was stumbling around in the dark, thinking Scott was hers, all their friends had been in on the secret.

Those same friends who used to tease her about how lucky she was. How Scott couldn't stop talking about her.

Yeah. What a joke.

Looking back now, it was so obvious. She'd been blind—stupidly blind.

The two most recent posts on Cindy's profile were from that day.

The first? Their flight tickets and a shot from the plane cabin.

The second? A picture of two hands intertwined across a dinner table.

Vanessa knew that hand.

She'd held it more times than she could count.

Cindy's profile was full of photos like that—smiling, glowing, thriving.

All of it, courtesy of him.

Vanessa's life? A cruel joke.

She snapped into action.

Screenshots. Every post, every comment Scott left.

Printed.

And packed into the gift box.