Chapter 3

I rested my head gently against her shoulder, a bitter ache swelling in my chest.

I nudged her cheek softly with mine. "Don't dwell on it. We've already decided to leave. Even if they turn it into a three-way freak show, it has nothing to do with us anymore."

She blinked away the rising tears, her hand unconsciously drifting back to her flat stomach. A long, quiet sigh escaped her. "Yeah. Nothing to do with us."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, so faint it felt as though the slightest breeze could scatter it into dust.

A few days later, I had my baby boy cremated.

My precious, tiny son had been reduced to a small urn of cold ashes.

I kept him close by my side. I promised myself that once the divorce was finalized and my shattered bones had healed, I would take him to see the vast, beautiful world.

Desperate to drag ourselves out of this living hell, we hired an attorney and drafted the divorce papers immediately.

With great difficulty, I signed my name using my braced fingers and instructed the lawyer to deliver the packet straight to the disaster relief station.

About half an hour later, Harper’s phone rang.

"Harper. Put Chloe on the line."

Ethan’s voice was icy, curt, and thoroughly drained of warmth.

Harper tapped the speaker button, and I spoke coldly into the microphone: "What?"

"Chloe, have you completely lost your mind? Did you honestly think that hiring some clown to impersonate a lawyer and wave fake divorce papers would scare me?

"And look at you, getting bolder by the day! You even had the nerve to block my number. Trying to get payback on me, is that it?"

His infuriated voice hammered mercilessly against my eardrums.

Only then did it hit me: the reason he called Harper was that my phone had been smashed during the earthquake.

He only reached out to me because he was holding the divorce agreement.

And yet, in his twisted, arrogant mind, he genuinely believed I had just blocked him out of petty spite.

It proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that throughout these agonizing days, he hadn't tried to call me once. He hadn't spared a single thought for me, or for our baby.

A sharp, throbbing pang seized my chest. My nose stung, and despite my best efforts, hot tears betrayed me and rolled down my face.

I sniffled quietly, fighting with everything I had to keep my tone deadpan: "I'm not playing games, Ethan. Just sign the damn papers, and we'll file them at city hall."

"What the hell is your problem right now? Are you seriously throwing a tantrum because I saved Nana? She's my childhood best friend! Her parents are dead—looking out for her is the bare minimum any decent human would do!

"Why can't you be just a little bit understanding for once? If there was ever anything between her and me, do you really think you would have stood a chance?"

His voice dripped with raw impatience.

He had thrown those exact same excuses at me countless times in the past, and every single time, I had forced myself to swallow them.

Deep down, I knew he hadn't truly convinced me; I had simply convinced myself.

Because I loved him, I had lowered myself into the dirt, groveling for scraps of his affection like a stray dog.

But now, the love was dead.

There was no way his cheap, gaslighting tactics were going to sweep this under the rug ever again.

He honestly believed he was tossing me an olive branch, expecting me to back down humbly and fall right back into line, just like I always did.

Not this time.

"Why are you wasting your breath explaining yourself to me? I asked for a divorce. I don't give a damn about whatever you're doing with Nana."

My voice turned frost-cold, eerily calm.

I blinked back the remaining moisture, refusing to show a shred of weakness in front of him ever again.

How sickeningly pathetic it was. Even now, he thought I was just acting out of petty jealousy.

It hadn't crossed his mind for a single second to ask whether his wife and newborn child were alive, injured, or dead under the rubble.

A husband and father like this didn't deserve another breath of my time—he needed to be excised from my life like a tumor.

"Ethan? Are you on the phone with Chloe? You've worked so hard the past few days... is she upset with you?"

Nana’s sweet, delicate voice purred in the background, thick with rehearsed innocence.

"No. She's fine. Don't worry about her," Ethan replied instantly.

"But didn't Chloe just give birth ten days ago? And with the earthquake and everything, is she..."

Her cloying, theatrical concern dragged on, while Ethan’s harsh tone visibly softened: "You're too kind-hearted, Nana. If only Chloe had half the empathy you do.

"Don't stress. She has a high-end postpartum nanny looking after her. Nothing can happen to her."

Every syllable of his voice struck my skull like a sledgehammer.

A violent wave of nausea surged up from my gut. I gagged, desperate to throw up.

How could a human being be this utterly repulsive?

Harper instantly hit the red button, cutting the call. "Are you okay? Come on, let me help you to the bathroom. You'll feel better once you get it out."

"We're getting that divorce," I choked out, leaning on her. "Once it's done, they can drown in Nana's delicate little charms all they want. Let them have each other!"