Chapter 1

On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband, Herbert Moore, abandoned me on a highway. He did that just to spend tens of millions to buy his childhood friend's first night. I cried and begged him not to leave, but Herbert coldly pushed me away. "There's an emergency at the company. I'm sure you can handle the checkup on your own." I was knocked down by the car door and started to bleed heavily. I called his phone. "My stomach hurts so much..." It wasn't until the 99th call that he finally picked up, his voice full of impatience, "Stop making things up. You're perfectly fine. Why would anything be wrong with you?" I shook my head as tears streamed down my face. "It's not like that..." "Stop being so pathetic." Herbert hung up in disgust. … When I woke up, I saw an Instagram post from Vivian Cruz, Herbert's childhood friend. The photo showed a man's back covered in passionate scratch marks with the caption "Are older men always this amazing?" Herbert even replied under the post. "I'll come find you if you ever call me an old man again." His friends chimed in beneath. "Herbie is the real deal. Ten years of secret love, and he finally got the woman he's always wanted. That 30 million was worth it!" A bitter smile tugged at my lips. So, she was the one Herbert truly held in his heart. A wave of pain surged through my lower abdomen, but I held back my sorrow and sent him a message. "Let's divorce." Immediately, his call came in. His voice roared through the line, "Are you out of your mind? Just because I didn't go with you to a checkup, you want a divorce? Are you serious?" When he proposed to me back then, he promised, "Stella, even if you grow old and lose your looks, I'll still love you." But now, he scoffed mockingly. "You're pregnant; have you even looked in the mirror? Who would want someone old and haggard like you? "You're in her thirties; are you really so naive? Do you think you're still a young woman? I don't have time to play your games." I placed a hand on my now-flat belly. While he was lighting candles for a luxurious night with his dream woman, our baby was already gone. I hung up. Outside the hospital room, the nurses were still chatting and giggling. "Did you hear? The Cruz family went bankrupt. To pay off the debts, Vivian auctioned off her first night. Tons of men fought over it. Another nurse replied, "Mr. Moore didn't even hesitate when he dropped a bombshell bid and swept her into his arms. It was so manly!" "Oh my god, Mr. Moore is so devoted. I hope they end up together!" a third nurse exclaimed. A sense of sourness gripped my chest. If the man they were talking about wasn't my husband, maybe I could've sincerely wished them well. Before Vivian returned to the country, Herbert had treated me with great care—always warming up milk for me, giving me morning kisses. However, ever since she returned on our wedding anniversary, she would always find excuses to pull Herbert away. Every time we tried to have a romantic moment, she'd interrupt us. Then, she'd mocked Herbert for lacking charm while sabotaging our plans over and over. On my birthday, she ripped my dress in front of everyone. She knew that I was allergic to shrimp, but still sent me seafood, causing me to be hospitalized for days. At first, Herbert said, "Vivi is just immature. Please be patient with her." As I questioned him more, he grew annoyed. "We're just close friends. You're overthinking." I pressed, "Just friends?" He lost his patience. "Stop being so impure." But what kind of "friends" bid on the other's first night and end up in bed together? … When I got discharged and returned home, the living room was a mess. Herbert walked out, froze for a second when he saw me, then casually asked, "You're back? How did the checkup go?"