Chapter 1

The college girl Ethan had just started keeping on the side cheated on him.

He had a severe germaphobia and refused to touch any woman he considered "unclean."

Once, a woman had undergone hymenoplasty trying to climb into Ethan's bed.

The moment he saw through her, she was run out of town overnight.

I assumed Chloe would face the same fate. That was until a video of Ethan spending a fortune, falling to his knees, and begging her to take him back went viral on Instagram.

Only then did I realize he had truly fallen in love this time.

Looking at the endless stream of bills he forwarded to me for Chloe's luxury expenses, I didn't cause a scene. I quietly signed and processed every single reimbursement.

We had a deal: as long as he didn't bring his mess in front of our child, I didn't care.

Until my five-year-old daughter came home from preschool and asked me for a birthday present. "Mommy, I want a talking teddy bear."

I softened my voice. "Mia, teddy bears can't talk."

My daughter blinked up at me. "Mommy, you're lying. Daddy's teddy bear makes noises, and she even calls Daddy 'Daddy.'"

"Except Daddy's teddy bear only talks when I'm asleep. She even made a bet with Daddy—she said if she woke me up, they'd do it eight times, and if I stayed asleep, only five times."

"Mommy, I counted very carefully. That's how many times the bear made noises."

In an instant, lightning struck my soul.

I waited in the living room until three in the morning before Ethan finally came home.

As usual, there was a smear of lipstick on his collar and a sickly sweet perfume clinging to his clothes.

He had smelled like this perfume for three straight months.

I had to admit, Chloe had real tricks up her sleeve.

For a playboy like Ethan, women who lasted even a month by his side could be counted on one hand.

Let alone making him drop to his knees to beg for reconciliation. Chloe was the very first exception Ethan had ever made.

At first, when I noticed the new shade of lipstick on Ethan's collar, I washed it off in silence.

Yet day after day, the exact same shade appeared in the exact same spot.

That was when I understood: the little girl was declaring war on me.

"Is Mia asleep? I'll pick her up from school tomorrow. It's her turn to sleep at my place tomorrow night."

Ethan spoke first, breaking the silence.

I deliberately kept my voice down, fighting to keep my emotions from spiraling out of control:

"Ethan, does she only go to your place to sleep?"

Ethan crushed out his cigarette. "What else? If not sleep, what would we..."

Before he could finish, I hit play on the recording of Mia's voice.

The expression on Ethan's face froze instantly.

I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth as I pointed at him with the last breath in my lungs.

"Starting today, you are forbidden from having any contact with Mia!"

"I told you, you can mess around however you want, but our child is my bottom line."

Just as the words left my mouth, Ethan's phone on the table buzzed.

A message popped up from a contact saved as Baby.

Ethan, did you handle the kid yet? I bought that new ribbed style. If she wakes up this time, let's bet on 20 rounds.

He had looked like he wanted to make an excuse, but the moment the text flashed on screen, he dropped the act entirely.

"She's a little kid. What could she possibly understand?"

I slapped Ethan across the face with all my might.

"What the hell have you two been doing in front of Mia?"

"She thinks if you shove things between your legs, they start talking! The other day at preschool, another kid was sleeping and ignored her, so she tried shoving a pencil between their legs! Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

"And last time, she kept trying to take off her clothes at preschool! She told the teacher that Daddy's bear only starts talking when Daddy takes off his clothes! If she ran into a predator, the consequences would be unthinkable! Do you even care?!"

"A predator would want her?"

Ethan snarled, furious from the slap.

I froze. I never imagined those words could come out of a biological father's mouth.

"Besides, who even knows if the kid is mine? If she dies, Chloe and I can have another one and give it back to you. Wouldn't that settle it?"

Who even knows if the kid is mine. That sentence had haunted me since the day Mia was born.

When I was little, I was hit by a truck while learning to ride a bike, and my hymen ruptured from the trauma, bleeding internally.

On our wedding night, just because there was no blood on the sheets, he swore I was "unclean."

In our eight years of marriage, Ethan hadn't touched me once after our wedding night.

Mia was conceived through five rounds of IVF. Even when I shoved the paternity test right in his face, he refused to spare it a second glance.

He claimed he loved me, blaming his behavior on his severe germaphobia.

Yet when a fire broke out at his company, I risked my life rushing into the flames to save him.

I suffered severe burns all over my lower body. But when we made it out, my legs gave out, and a nearby bodyguard caught me by the arm to steady me.

From that day on, he refused all physical contact with me, saying I disgusted him.

It wasn't until I saw the video of him on his knees trending online today that I finally realized.

It was never germaphobia. He simply never loved me at all.

"Let's get a divorce."