Chapter 2

When I met Dorian, we were just twenty-one—young, hopeful, and full of dreams.

We built everything together. From nothing, we started a small business, grinding through every hardship side by side. Step by step, we climbed, carving out the success and reputation we now had.

In those early days, we barely had enough to eat. I still remember those nights when we shared a single bowl of noodles, while others around us looked down on us as if we were nothing. But none of it broke us—not the struggle, not the humiliation, not even the endless sleepless nights.

When he proposed, it felt like a fairy tale. A ten-mile stretch of flowers, and over five hundred drones lighting up the night sky, spelling out my name: “Zadie Rowan, will you marry me?”

I cried. Real tears, the kind that come straight from the heart.

But the passion we once shared faded as the years went on. The magic gave way to routine.

My friends warned me: “Zadie, once a man gets rich, he changes. You better watch Dorian carefully.”

I’d laugh it off, shaking my head.

“No. Dorian would never betray me.”

They smiled but said no more. One of them, however, gave me a look, something like a warning.

“People with power and money always want something new.”

I never believed it. Not in a million years.

Then I found out I was pregnant. Overjoyed, so I rushed to share the news at the office.

But through the cracked door, I saw her—another woman kissing him, her hand undoing his shirt. I froze, thinking I was dreaming.

But the ultrasound in my hand, and the sharp ache in my belly, told me the truth.

This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.

Coldness spread through me, numbing my limbs and freezing my heart.

My mind went blank.

I stormed into his office like a wild animal, throwing punches at them both.

He pushed them out silently, then just stood there, watching me unravel until I collapsed, pale and trembling.

Only then did panic flash in his eyes as he caught me.

Blood flowed suddenly uncontrollably and terrifyingly.

“Zadie! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” he shouted.

“Please, don’t scare me. What’s happening? Tell me!” I begged, clutching his collar.

But all I could say was, “Dorian... I hate you... I hate you so much.”

Then everything went black.

When I woke, I heard the doctor’s quiet voice. “Mr. Hayes, I’m afraid your wife may no longer be able to have children.”

Dorian’s disbelief was raw. “How is that possible?”

The doctor explained gently:

“Mrs. Hayes’s health was already fragile from years of overwork. This pregnancy was high-risk. The miscarriage caused serious damage.”

“If she takes good care, maybe there’s hope. But it won’t be easy.”

The doctor sighed, leaving the room.

Before I even opened my eyes, the tears came.

Dorian leaned over and held me close.

“Zadie... I’m here. I’m here.”

I opened my eyes, tears spilled down my cheeks and pushed him away.

He only held on tighter.

After learning about his betrayal, I was broken—completely lost.

Losing the baby felt like losing all hope.

I stopped fighting, stopped feeling. My eyes glazed over, staring at nothing.

My soul had left me.

He whispered over and over, desperate:

“Zadie, I love you. Only you.”

He knelt, beating his chest, begging for forgiveness, promising it would never happen again.

But I retreated into myself, shutting everyone out.

I stopped talking, stopped eating—like I was waiting to die.

Until one day, he held a knife, took my hand, and guided it toward him.

“Zadie, please stop hurting yourself. If anyone should suffer, let it be me.”

That was when I finally snapped back to reality.

Yes.

He was the one who made the mistake. Why was I the one punishing myself?

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