Chapter 2

Julian released me and turned to throw the skincare products from the table onto the floor.

Bottles shattered on the hard surface, fragments scattering everywhere.

Just like our fragile marriage.

He looked down at me, then asked coldly,

“Last chance. Are you sure you’re not going to make dinner?”

He was giving me an easy out, a chance to back down. Normally, I would never have pushed him this far.

I was known in his circle as his little doormat, always ready to serve.

I used to accept that incredibly sarcastic and insulting title.

Julian and I were once so in love, and I honestly didn't care about those labels back then.

But now, I refused to throw away my self-respect.

I glanced at Julian, who was on the verge of exploding, and quickly shook my head.

“You can ask Seraphina to cook for you.”

That remark lit the fuse. Julian grabbed the iced tea from the coffee table and aggressively splashed it on me.

“Audrey, I think you need a wake-up call.”

The cold liquid dripped down my chest, and my soaked sleeves felt extremely uncomfortable.

As I rolled up my sleeves, Julian’s face froze for a moment, then erupted in fury.

“Are you sick in the head? You even put scar makeup on your arm? My son’s birthday is in two days. Are you trying to use such cheap tactics to gain sympathy?”

So that was it. He hadn’t come home because he was tired of Seraphina; he remembered he had a son whose mother he didn't even know.

His harsh voice made my eardrums throb, almost bursting.

Or perhaps it was my heart aching, making my whole body hurt.

The man who once cradled me and worried over a tiny red burn mark from cooking for him was gone.

His love for me had vanished along with him.

I calmly picked up a tissue and gently wiped the water from my body, wincing and drawing a sharp breath as my fingers brushed against the wound.

“I don’t need anyone’s sympathy, especially not yours.”

My flat statement landed in Julian’s ears like sarcastic venom.

“Fine, Audrey. You want to make a scene, do you? Then you won’t be attending Leo’s birthday party.”

He always did this, using our son to threaten me after a few harsh words.

Leo and I had a deep bond. His cheap tricks wouldn't work on us.

“I raised that boy myself; you don’t get to make decisions for him!”

It didn't matter if Julian didn't love me anymore. I knew Leo would want to celebrate his birthday with me.

A mother’s tender affection involuntarily softened my face.

Perhaps my smile was too triumphant, because Julian poured a bucket of cold water over my head.

“Did you forget, Leo has nothing to do with you!”

Years ago, he was set up, drugged and taken to a hotel, then extorted for a huge sum of money.

He had just taken over the company and dared not investigate.

A year later, an anonymous sender dropped off a baby. A paternity test confirmed it was his child.

The scandal caused his company’s stock to plummet, and he lost everything.

He was on the rooftop, contemplating jumping, when he ran into me taking a breather.

I confessed my feelings for him, gathering the courage to hold his hand and face the public storm together.

Even after we married, I poured my love for him into Leo, treating him as my own biological child.

But my love and acceptance for him and Leo had now become the very weapon he used to hurt me!

Was he mocking me for being so desperate to be a stepmom?

“You’re right. Since we’re getting divorced anyway, why don’t you find Leo a new mom? Or better yet, find his biological mother!”