Chapter 3

Tristan could not remember where it was. However, I found the address through the location tracker in Micheal’s car. It was a villa in the southern part of the city, more than 30 miles away. Micheal had been making that round trip twice a day, every day.

At the door, I entered Camellia’s birthday date into the keypad. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. The first thing I saw was a pair of matching slippers, then matching mugs, gloves, hats… Almost everything came in pairs.

I dug my nails into my palm as a dull ache twisted through my chest.

I had once suggested buying matching things for Micheal and me. Yet he called it childish and told me that we did not need those meaningless rituals after years of marriage.

It turned out that it was not that he disliked them. He had simply saved every ounce of romance and every meaningful gesture for Camellia.

I walked farther inside. Photos of the two of them filled the walls, capturing every season of their life together.

Last March, when I broke my leg in a car accident, they were in Swizor, admiring the snow-capped mountains.

In July, when Tristan was hospitalized with the flu and hooked up to an IV, they had been by the sea, wrapped in each other’s arms.

On New Year’s Eve, the two of them had claimed they could not make it back to the country. In reality, they had spent the night here, toasting with champagne and watching fireworks together.

I gripped one of the picture frames so tightly that my hands began to shake violently.

I stumbled backward and knocked over a vase. The pollen scattered into the air, and my throat began to close within seconds. I was allergic to pollen, yet fresh flowers were everywhere in this house.

Fighting through the pain, I fled and drove straight to the hospital.

After buying some medicine, I called Micheal. I called him 12 times, and not once did he answer.

I lowered my phone, laughing bitterly at how deeply I had grown accustomed to depending on him.

Then, I lifted my head.

The man who had ignored all 12 of my calls was standing outside the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department, gently holding someone else in his arms and feeding her water.

Our eyes met across the hallway. For half a second, my heart seemed to stop.

Panic flashed across Micheal’s face. He hurriedly pulled Camellia against his chest, shielding her face as though terrified I might recognize her.

“Micheal!” I chased after them.

I grabbed Camellia by the sleeve, but I could not bring myself to pull hard. Tears began streaming down my face. “What are you two doing here?”

Micheal pressed his lips together, refusing to meet my eyes. “You’ve got it wrong. She’s an important client of mine…”

Camellia buried herself against his chest, too afraid to look up.

I grabbed her hair and forced her face toward me. “Tell me, Camellia. How much longer are you two planning to keep this from me? Are you already pregnant with Micheal’s child? Tell me!”

“Chloe…” Camellia shook her head again and again. Tears spilled down her cheek, but no words came.

Micheal shoved me away. “Chloe, whatever you’re angry about, take it out on me. Leave her alone!”

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength I had. “Micheal, how could you be this disgusting? You could've cheated on me with anyone, but her? She’s my sister!”

My hysterical accusation echoed through the entire hallway.

People began gathering around, staring and whispering as they watched the two of them clinging to each other.

“Oh my goodness. He’s sleeping with his own sister-in-law? That’s sick.”

“Her belly’s already showing. If the wife hadn’t caught them at the hospital, she probably never would’ve known."

“He won’t even stay with his own wife, but he comes here to accompany his mistress to her prenatal appointment. Those two deserve whatever hell is coming for them!”

“I didn’t! It’s not like that…” Camellia screamed, covering her ears as she collapsed to the floor in agony.

“Camellia!” Micheal’s eyes reddened with anguish. He dropped to his knees and reached for her, only to feel the warm trail of blood running down her thigh.

His face went deathly pale. Like a man possessed, he scooped her into his arms and bolted toward the emergency room. “Where’s the doctor? Somebody help her!”

I watch Camellia writhing in pain. Concern and resentment warred violently inside me. In the end, I clenched my teeth and chased after them. I wanted to stay by Camellia’s side.

However, the moment I reached for her arm, Micheal turned around and kicked me hard in the stomach. “Stay away!”

He glared at me through clenched teeth, resentment burning in his eyes. “I’m never letting you touch her again.”

I went tumbling down the stairwell beside me, hitting each step hard on the way down. A searing pain tore through my lower abdomen. Warm blood streamed down my thighs.

I had miscarried.

When I woke up, the miscarriage report lay beside my bed.

I was seven weeks pregnant. When I finally found Micheal, he was gently wiping Camellia’s body with a towel. His touch was so tender that it made something inside me ache.

When he learned that I had lost our baby, he merely glanced at my stomach with cold indifference. “You brought this on yourself. You’re the one who killed Camellia’s baby.”

I stared at him, stunned for a moment. Tears silently slipped down my cheeks. This was not the first child I had lost for him.

Eight years ago, desperate to secure investors for his company, I forced myself to drink bottles of hard liquor. I bled so heavily that the ground behind me was stained red while I made my way home.

Micheal rushed me to the hospital like a madman. He sobbed until he could barely catch his breath beside my hospital bed. Back then, he told me he could not bear to see me suffer. He swore he would never let me endure that kind of pain again.

Yet now, he told me I deserved it.

I could not find my voice for a long while. When I finally did, it was barely a whisper.

“Micheal, let’s get a divorce. I’ll take Tristan and leave. You two can have each other.”