Chapter 1

At the Christmas Eve dinner, my husband, Michael Dawson, actually brought his first love to join us.

I kept quiet and didn't create drama.

I forced a smile and ate through the dinner.

As soon as we got home, I threw the divorce agreement right in front of him.

He signed them without a second thought.

He snapped, "Without you, my life will be so much better."

I just smiled.

I'd like to see how a deadbeat like him, who lived off me, used my stuff, and even begged me for cash, could ever have it better without me.

*****

At the Dawson family's Christmas Eve dinner, I stood up to serve Maggie, my mother-in-law, some food.

"Maggie, try this rib," I said with a smile.

She just shot it a look, picked up the rib, and carelessly tossed it aside on the table.

She didn't care that the whole Dawson family was watching. She was out to make me look bad.

I kept my cool and smiled, "Maggie, don't get upset on Christmas Eve."

Maggie slammed her fork down. "Easy for you to say. My son doesn't even come home for dinner on Christmas Eve. How am I supposed to not be upset?"

Then she aimed at me. "If you could actually have a child, maybe then he'd want to come home instead of staying late at work every holiday."

Her words cut me to the bone, leaving me exposed and humiliated in front of everyone.

Michael and I had been married for three years.

During those three years, I was constantly juggling work and managing our home.

I truly believed I was a good wife.

The only thing anyone could ever hold against me was that, even after three years without using any protection, Michael and I still didn't have a child.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I quickly got up, eager to get away from all the drama at the dinner table.

When I opened the door, Michael was standing outside.

I blurted out, "Weren't you supposed to be working overtime?"

Before Michael could say a word, someone slipped out from behind him with a playful grin. She chimed in, "I'm the one who called Michael back. It's way too lonely for him to stay at the office late all by himself."

Then, with a hint of accusation, she added, "Sophia, you're his wife, but you don't even care about him."

I shot her a frown.

What the hell was Charlotte Reed doing here?

The first time I ever saw Charlotte was in a photo inside Michael's wallet.

She was in a school uniform, and that sweet, innocent smile was caught perfectly in the photo.

Michael had carefully stashed it in the inside slot of his wallet, almost like it was some hidden treasure.

One day, while I was sorting out Michael's laundry, the photo suddenly slipped out of his wallet.

I grabbed it and confronted Michael, and it turned into one of our biggest fights.

We didn't speak for two whole weeks before he finally admitted that Charlotte was his first love.

They'd been childhood playmates, just innocent kids, and he'd had a crush on her for as long as he could remember.

But that teenage infatuation never led to anything.

After high school, Charlotte went abroad to study.

And just like that, they lost touch.

That was when Michael finally told me her name—Charlotte Reed.

I never saw that photo of Charlotte again after that.

When I brought it up, Michael just told me he'd gotten rid of it.

Since he said so, I figured there was no point pushing any further.

Before I could even react, Charlotte just brushed right past me and walked straight into the house like she owned the place.

I leaned in and whispered to Michael, "What's she doing here?"

Michael's voice was soft, with a subtle hint of concern. "Charlotte's just come back to the country. Spending Christmas alone is tough for a girl, so I invited her over to liven things up."

I forced myself to push down my annoyance and went back to the table with Michael.

Charlotte had already claimed my seat by the time I got there.

She was busy chatting with Maggie, making her laugh and beam in a way I hadn't seen in years. Even Fred, my father-in-law, who was always so stern, had his expression softened with a rare smile.

The atmosphere around the table was like night and day compared to when I was there.

I stood by quietly, just watching them.

And then it hit me—Charlotte acted like she owned the place, while I was the one who didn't belong.

I'd always known Maggie couldn't stand me.

I was never the daughter-in-law she actually wanted.

Too loud, too unlikeable, and I couldn't cook or do any housework.

In Maggie's eyes, I was the last person anyone should marry.

Maybe, to her, the only thing I had going for me was my family's wealth. At least marrying me meant her son could skip ten years of struggle.

Charlotte turned to me, her expression a mix of guilt and surprise. "Oh no, Sophia, did I take your seat?"

She immediately started to get up, ready to let me have my place back.

But Michael put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, it's Christmas Eve. You shouldn't be eating on your feet. Just sit down and enjoy the meal. She can stand while eating, it's no big deal."

Charlotte flashed Michael a sweet, almost triumphant smile.

Then she glanced back at me, eyes bright and expectant, clearly waiting for me to respond.

She was basically putting me right under the spotlight, forcing everyone to watch me get judged like I was on trial.

My heart went cold. Seriously? It was Christmas Eve, and she was too precious to stand—but of course, it was totally fine for me, right?

I was the one who made all those dishes piled up on that table.

After busting my back in the kitchen all day, my legs were dead, my waist was killing me—yet somehow, there wasn't even a chair left for me to sit in.

I never learned to cook until after I married Michael.

Maggie was always on my case about my lack of cooking skills, and she'd always complain that takeout was bad for us. So I bit the bullet, signed up for classes, and spent half a year learning how to cook from scratch.

I was no gourmet chef, but at least I could serve up something edible without embarrassing myself.

Even though I was bitter inside, I just went along and said, "It's fine, just take the seat."

Charlotte flashed me a sweet smile and thanked me, "Thank you, Sophia. You're so nice."

For a split second, I caught a sly, almost triumphant glint in her smile.

So, I just kept up the act, forcing a smile through the whole Christmas Eve dinner.