Chapter 1

Emma, my wife of ten years, suddenly posted on Instagram during her business trip abroad. In the photo, she was sporting a visible baby bump, coyly nestling in the arms of a blonde man. Beside them stood two identical boys.

The caption read: "For you, I'd give up the whole world."

Shocked, I called Emma. As soon as she picked up, her impatient voice came through, "Don't call me unless it's urgent. How many times do I have to tell you I'm busy? Can't you understand that?" She hung up a second later.

I stared at the photo of the two children, my hand unconsciously moving to my abdomen, where a deep scar remained. So this was why she insisted on us being child-free and wouldn't let me treat my injury.

Looking at the woman I had loved for over twenty years, I broke down in tears.

After ninety-nine unanswered calls, Ms. Wilson, my assistant, came to see me.

I promptly asked her to call Emma, telling her I was hospitalized. Ms. Wilson looked at me quizzically, but a second later, the call connected.

"Hello, Wilson. What's up?" Emma's cheerful voice came through the phone. I could imagine her smiling, lazily draping her legs over that Frenchman.

"Mrs. Hamilton, Mr. James has been hospitalized. When do you think you can return? The company needs you," Ms. Wilson said.

Emma paused, her tone changing, "He's sick again? What can he do right? He's utterly useless."

"I know. Arlo and Cyril are turning ten. I'll be back in two days after spending some time with them."

After hanging up, Ms. Wilson looked at me awkwardly, stammering, "Mr. James, about this..."

I waved her off, "You can go back to the office now."

Three days later, Emma returned.

I sat haggard on the sofa, the coffee table littered with empty bottles.

She bounced over excitedly, hugging my neck and planting a kiss, "Darling, Wilson said you were sick. Are you better now? Did you miss me?"

"I'm not leaving for a while this time. You can take a few days off from work to rest and recover."

She took out a watch, "Look, I bought this gift especially for you. I had our names engraved on it. The moving hands represent my never-ending love for you."

If it weren't for the pungent cologne on her, I might have believed her. After all, she constantly professed her love and affection for me.

So much so that she was tightly embracing that French man right before boarding the plane, leaving her drenched in his cologne.

I gazed at Emma desolately, my eyes finally resting on her slightly protruding belly.

With a hoarse voice, I asked, "Are you pregnant?"

Emma froze, blurting out, "No!"

I smiled bitterly, "I saw your Instagram post. Does the 'whole world' you're willing to give up include me?"

Emma paused, immediately took out her phone, and opened Instagram. Her expression changed several times.

After a moment, she slowly took off her clothes, undoing the belly band, "James, since Hamilton has already posted about me on Instagram, I won't hide it from you anymore."

"They are my husband and children abroad. They are also my family."

I looked at her in astonishment. Her face was calm and natural, without a trace of shame or remorse.

I sat up straight, glaring at Emma, "Do you know what you're saying? Husband and children? What am I then?"

Emma took my hand, carefully putting the watch on my wrist. She spoke casually, "They are my family abroad, it has nothing to do with you. Hamilton's home is in France, he won't come to China. It doesn't affect your position at all."

"He runs his trading company, you do your tech research and production. You two don't conflict."

"Besides, I'm doing this for our family. Look at you, your health isn't good, you can't have children. The Hamilton Group is such a big company, it needs an heir, right? Hamilton is tall, handsome, and a graduate from a prestigious university. There's nothing wrong with me giving the Hamilton family an excellent heir."

I stared at Emma in shock. If she wasn't standing right in front of me, I would have thought someone had replaced her personality. In the twenty years I've known her, I never knew her values were so warped. Had she been poisoned by some 'advanced culture'?

My chest heaved violently. The scar on my abdomen, where I had taken a bullet for her, still ached on rainy days. And now she was so casually dismissing me.

On our wedding night, her vow to remain child-free to spare me from surgery still echoed in my ears. How could she now speak so righteously about an heir?