Chapter 3

When I went downstairs the next morning, the living room was empty.

The divorce papers had been torn to shreds and scattered across the expensive handmade rug.

My heart clenched at the sight, then settled back into numb silence.

Apparently, this was Nathan’s answer.

He couldn’t be bothered to explain, but he wouldn’t let me go.

My phone lit up with a new message.

From Sophie.

A little over a month earlier, she had suddenly added me on Snapchat again.

Her first message had been: “Claire, long time no see. I’m back. Nathan picked me up at the airport. He hasn’t changed a bit.”

After that, my phone had become a window into her happy little life.

Nathan accompanying her to art exhibitions. Nathan serving her food. A photo taken inside Nathan’s car, with her bare leg deliberately in the frame…

And yesterday, she had sent me a voice message.

In the background, I could clearly hear Nathan impatiently ending a call.

“Claire? Ignore her. She’s always making a big deal out of nothing. Just enjoy the paintings.”

The latest message had arrived ten minutes earlier.

A photo.

Nathan was asleep in her bed, his face peaceful against the familiar star-patterned bedding in her room.

The caption read: “Claire, I heard you went through Nathan’s things in his study and upset him?”

“That agreement was something he gave me ages ago to cheer me up when I was sick. It’s been invalid for years. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“But you really do look like I used to. Especially your eyes. Nathan said that was the first thing he noticed when he met you.”

“Oh, and how’s the baby? Nathan says he hopes the baby has my eyes.”

A cold wave of nausea rose in my throat. I rushed into the bathroom and began retching violently.

Nothing in my pregnancy had made me feel this sick.

I gripped the sink and stared at my pale face and red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.

These eyes… Was that why?

Because they looked like hers?

Fifteen years of first love. Ten years of marriage. All of it had begun with a man longing for a different woman.

And I was nothing more than a poor substitute. His second choice.

Tears finally spilled down my face.

With trembling hands, I replied to Sophie.

“You’ve always liked picking up things I no longer want. Keep them. Nathan included.”

The message went through.

Almost immediately, Nathan called.

I didn’t answer.

I hung up and blocked his number.

The world fell silent.

I held my tightening belly and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

This wasn’t the time to fall apart.

I called a moving company, then quietly began packing my belongings.

My clothes. My design sketches. The basic kitchenware and small appliances I had bought…

Everything I had purchased, everything that carried a piece of me, went into boxes.

As for the expensive jewelry, gowns, and handbags, Nathan had bought most of them to make sure I looked the part of Mrs. Cole.

I didn’t take a single one.

Even my wedding ring lay quietly on the vanity after I took it off.

The movers arrived soon and loaded more than a dozen boxes into their truck.

Before leaving, I took one last look at the mansion where I had spent ten years.

Beautiful. Cold. A carefully constructed prison.

And I had served my sentence.

My new apartment was small, but it was full of sunlight.

It took me an entire day to put everything away.

My body ached, and I felt a faint pressure low in my belly, but there was a strange lightness in my heart.

That evening, I received a text from an unknown number.

It was Nathan.

“Claire, come home immediately. We can pretend none of this happened.”

“Sophie isn’t well. Stop harassing and upsetting her.”

“And you’re having that baby. A Cole child will not be raised outside this family.”

I stared at the message, almost laughing through my tears.

Even now, all he cared about was Sophie’s feelings and the Cole bloodline.

Whether I was hurting or dying didn’t matter.

I didn’t reply.

I deleted the message and blocked that number, too.