"Change your clothes and come with me. I brought Yara and Stellan back today so that you could spend time with them."

When I didn't move, he frowned, grabbed a jacket at random, and forced it onto me, zipping it up himself. He even made a point to remind me, "And don't talk nonsense again. I'll explain the situation with Stellan's name another time."

When we arrived, Benson gave Stellan a gentle push toward me. "Spend some time getting to know Stellan first."

Then, he bent down, speaking with the same soft, indulgent tone he used with Yara. "Stellan, play with Ms. Winters for a while, okay? Daddy and Mommy are going to buy you new clothes and toys."

Stellan beamed with joy and agreed immediately. I followed him numbly as he tugged me toward the food court. Like all kids, he was drawn to fried snacks. Not knowing if he could eat those, I took out my phone to call Benson.

He didn't an

Every brick, every tile, and every blade of grass in this garden was chosen by me and Benson together—including the large lemon tree in the backyard. That tree had been transplanted from the park next to our old basement unit.

Back when we had no money, our greatest form of entertainment was taking walks in that little park.

Benson had said, "Let this tree stand in honor of the ten hard years you spent with me, Yvonne. As long as the tree remains, so does my promise. I will never let you down."

Spring hadn't arrived yet. The lemon tree stood dry and lifeless with not a hint of green on its branches. Just like the last ten years between me and Benson, it was lifeless.

I went to the storage room and took out an electric saw, then called the neighbor's husband to help me cut it down.

The neighbor's wife looked startled. "Every autumn when the leaves turn gold and flutter down, my husba

Even the hope carried in the name had been shamelessly transferred by Benson to Yara and her son. Was he really trying to carve out my heart like this?

"Benson… How could you give the name we chose together to the child you had with another woman?"

The words had barely left my lips when Benson immediately snapped at me in a low, harsh voice.

"Yvonne! Watch what you say!"

I blinked, startled back to my senses, only to see him rushing to explain things to Yara. That was when I realized just how badly my words had landed. Yara's face had turned ghostly pale.

My throat tightened. I instinctively stepped forward to explain, but the sharp warning in Benson's eyes rooted me in place.

Yara was clearly shaken. She cried for a long time, her voice trembling as she poured her heart out.

"If the only reason our child exists is to make up for your regret over not having one with Ms. Winters, then I wish I had never given birth to him! Benson, I love you. You can neglect me and take me for granted, but Stellan is innocent. I don't want him to grow up as some consolation prize.

"I knew from the start that Ms. Winters would never accept us. I was prepared for that seven years ago. That's why I've always followed your wishes and been raising our child quietly in another city.

"When you said that we could come here today, I thought… I thought it meant we could finally be together. But after seeing how Ms. Winters is reacting, maybe it's better if Stellan and I go back. I don't want to stay here just to be looked down on."

She sobbed so miserably that Benson panicked. He nodded at everything she said, eager to soothe her.

"Yara, look at me. Stellan is our child, not a substitute for something I missed out on with anyone else. I love you, and I love him. I would never neglect either of you. I want to give you both the very best I can.

"Don't worry about her attitude. This is my home. I bought this place. It's the Locke residence. No one has the right to treat you or Stellan like outsiders. Come on, don't overthink it. The baby growing inside you wouldn't want to see you upset either."

Every word from Benson cut through me like a knife. So, this was it. Everything in this house—every wall, every brick—belonged to Benson. I was nothing here. 

I let out a bitter laugh.

After Yara and her son left, I handed over the finalized divorce agreement.

"Sign it."

Benson gave it a cursory glance, then casually picked up his coat and brushed past me.

"Yvonne, you're not young anymore. You'll be 40 next year. Don't joke about things like this. We've been married for 20 years. If we get divorced now, how do you expect the media and our business partners to look at me?"

I gave a cold, hollow laugh. 

Of course, that was what our marriage had become. Everything changed after our company succeeded.

Ten years ago, I led the decision to close a major deal, which catapulted our small firm into a leading local enterprise.  But when it came time to divide responsibilities, Benson and I hit a wall.

I wanted to stay on as general manager and continue building my career. But Benson wanted me to step back and settle into the role of a high-society wife.

In the end, he made the decision for me. He hired someone new and quietly replaced me.

I was furious at the time. But under Benson's persuasion, I swallowed my pride and chose to keep the peace.

Since then, the closeness between us faded. I tried many times to bridge the gap, to bring us back together, but there was always a barrier I couldn't break through.

Whenever I tried to open up, he would brush me off with work or say, "You're overthinking it."

And so, here we were. 

Our love had shattered. And all that was between us were cold calculations.



"Change your clothes and come with me. I brought Yara and Stellan back today so that you could spend time with them."

When I didn't move, he frowned, grabbed a jacket at random, and forced it onto me, zipping it up himself. He even made a point to remind me, "And don't talk nonsense again. I'll explain the situation with Stellan's name another time."

When we arrived, Benson gave Stellan a gentle push toward me. "Spend some time getting to know Stellan first."

Then, he bent down, speaking with the same soft, indulgent tone he used with Yara. "Stellan, play with Ms. Winters for a while, okay? Daddy and Mommy are going to buy you new clothes and toys."

Stellan beamed with joy and agreed immediately. I followed him numbly as he tugged me toward the food court. Like all kids, he was drawn to fried snacks. Not knowing if he could eat those, I took out my phone to call Benson.

He didn't answer. And for the first time, seven-year-old Stellan bared his teeth at me.

"My mom and dad are on 

Chapter 5