Chapter 1

When I was seven months pregnant, I found an expired asset transfer agreement in a hidden compartment in Nathan Cole’s study.

Twenty percent of Cole Group’s shares, worth billions, along with three overseas estates and a private island.

All of it was to be given, free of charge, to my stepsister, Sophie Bennett.

But when Nathan married me, all he handed me was a prenup.

“It’s a business marriage. Just a formality,” he’d said casually. “Sign it.”

I signed, entering the Cole family with nothing.

After ten years of marriage, I didn’t even know the PIN to his bank card.

“Who gave you permission to come into my study?”

Nathan’s voice came from the doorway, cold as ice.

I turned to face the man I had loved for fifteen years.

I didn’t cry or make a scene. I simply said, “Nathan, let’s get a divorce.”

He strode over, snatched the agreement from my hands, and flung it across the floor.

“You’re making a scene over ancient history?”

He didn’t offer another word of explanation. He just angrily told me to get out.

He was right about one thing. This was a business marriage.

And it was time for me to leave.

I quietly scheduled an abortion at the hospital.

As I stared at the appointment on my screen, my abdomen began cramping uncontrollably.

Bracing myself against the bedroom wall, I slowly sank to the floor and fought back tears as I messaged my lawyer.

He called immediately. “Mrs. Cole, are you absolutely sure you want to waive all claims to marital assets and walk away with nothing?”

“Under family law, a pregnant spouse may be entitled to—”

Marital assets?

I couldn’t help letting out a bitter laugh.

What marital assets?

The shares Nathan had acquired over the years were held under other people’s names. Every asset in his name had been legally protected before our marriage.

My name had never appeared on the list of beneficiaries of the family trust.

On the day we got engaged, he’d casually told me he wouldn’t marry a woman who expected handouts.

He wasn’t about to give away everything he had fought so hard to earn just because he was getting married.

Back then, I thought he was simply resentful that my father had pressured him into marrying me.

I also knew how hard he’d fought against his father’s other sons to take control of Cole Group.

So I obediently signed my name over and over on a thick stack of documents waiving my financial rights.

I thought that one day, he would finally let go of his resentment and truly see me.

It wasn’t until I saw that asset transfer agreement that I understood what a fool I had been.

Every item listed in it matched something he had once made me sign away.

It wasn’t that he refused to share what he owned. I simply wasn’t the wife he wanted to share it with.

“Mr. Parker,” I interrupted, “please draw up the divorce papers. I just want to leave.”

My hands were still shaking when I hung up.

Not from doubt. From anger.

Ten years of marriage had been one long con, and I had willingly played the fool.

The code to the hidden compartment in Nathan’s study was Sophie’s birthday.

He was willing to share everything he had with her, yet the spending limit on my supplementary credit card never exceeded five hundred dollars a month.

Even when I was seven months pregnant and vomiting until I could barely stand, he was helping Sophie host a private art exhibition.

And the most ridiculous part?

I had designed their love nest myself.

Three months earlier, Nathan had brought me a set of blueprints and forced me to work despite my severe pregnancy symptoms.

“A friend bought a villa for his girlfriend. Put together a top-of-the-line design as quickly as you can.”

Looking back, that “friend” was Nathan himself.

And the sweeping “SB” on the resident’s signature line clearly stood for Sophie Bennett.

The divorce papers arrived that evening.

My lawyer made one final attempt to persuade me. “Mrs. Cole, at least keep the portion you earned yourself…”

I shook my head.

Nathan hadn’t contributed a cent to our household expenses over the years. Everything I earned had already gone into maintaining our home.

Now I wondered if that was why Nathan thought so little of me.

As I signed, the baby kicked fiercely, as though protesting—or trying to comfort me.

In the end, I couldn’t hold it back.

I cried.