Chapter 2

My words made the atmosphere in the dining room turn to ice.

Richard slammed his fork down, roaring, "Ridiculous. Amelia, do you really think you can negotiate with us?"

Linda snapped out of it, her face darkening. "Amelia, don't push your luck. Offering you this surrogacy is us doing you a favor. It's your chance to make up for your failure. And you dare make demands?"

Make up for my failure? What exactly did I fail at? Failing to get pregnant? Or failing to be gracious enough to smile while my husband paraded his mistress in front of me?

I ignored their shouting, keeping my eyes locked on Henry. I knew he was the real decision-maker here.

Henry's face turned thunderous. He stared at me hard, as if trying to find a crack in my facade.

"Amelia, you better think this through. Without me, you're nothing," he threatened, his voice dripping with that usual contempt.

"I've thought it through." I met his gaze without flinching. "Mr. Sutton, let's not beat around the bush.

"You just want a baby so you can bring Claire White into the family legitimately, right? I'll help you out. But only if we get divorced first."

I paused, my smile deepening. "I mean, what, I'm supposed to be Mrs. Sutton and carry some other woman's baby? You think that gets out, the Suttons are gonna look good?

"You can afford the risk. But I'm not sticking around for that mess."

My words struck right at their Achilles' heel. For families like the Suttons, reputation was everything.

If people found out the wife was carrying the mistress' child, the Sutton family's stock would crash for sure.

Henry's breathing grew noticeably heavier. He never expected the always docile Amelia to suddenly become so quick with her words.

"What do you want?" He finally compromised, squeezing the words out between clenched teeth.

"Simple." I held up two fingers. "First, divorce. Second, split the assets. The Silver Shores villa we've lived in since we got married, and the car under my name—they're both mine.

"And I want 15 million dollars in cash. That's for all the effort I put in for the Sutton family these past three years, and... consider it an advance for the 'hard work' I'll be doing over the next ten months."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Linda shrieked. "That villa is worth 60 million. And you want another 15 million? That's robbery."

"Linda," I replied with a smile, "compared to the Sutton future heir, 60 million and 15 million are nothing. If you think it's too much, just say no.

"We can let this drag on. I'm young, and I've got time. But I'm not sure if Ms. White's baby can wait that long."

I deliberately stressed the word 'baby,' and was satisfied to see Henry's face sour further. He knew full well Claire wasn't pregnant. It was just their excuse to corner me.

Time was on my side. They were the desperate ones, not me.

The dining room was plunged into dead silence. Richard and Linda's faces cycled between livid and pale, clearly locked in a fierce internal debate.

After a long while, Henry finally spoke, his voice icy. "Fine. Deal. Tomorrow at nine, outside the courthouse. I'll have my lawyer get the money and the paperwork for the villa ready."

"It's a deal," I said, grabbing my purse and walking away without hesitation.

"Where are you going?" Henry called after me.

I stopped and turned to give him a gentle smile. "I'm going home. To my own home. From today on, this place isn't my home anymore.

"Mr. Sutton, make sure you bring the divorce papers and my 'deposit' tomorrow. If not, the surrogacy deal is off."

With that, I walked out of this fancy cage without looking back.

The bitter Christmas Eve wind struck my face, yet I felt nothing but relief. Three years of suffocating pain and humiliation hardened into a steely resolve in that moment.

I didn't return to the house Henry and I once shared. Instead, I caught a cab and went to a hotel.

The moment I closed the door behind me, every bit of my facade fell away. I slid down against the door, buried my face in my knees, and finally let the tears flow.

I wasn't crying for lost love. I was crying for my unborn child.

Sorry, baby. I couldn't give you a real family. And I even drank wine tonight.

My hand trembled as I gently rested it on my flat stomach. There was still no sign of life on the outside, but inside, it held every last hope I had left.

Just as I was drowning in my sorrow, my phone buzzed. A text popped up from an unfamiliar number, its content concise: [I'm downstairs. Need any help?]

I froze in place. I knew that number.

A figure emerged in my mind, tall and aloof with a restrained stillness. His eyes were deep and unreadable.

It was Liam Sutton, Henry's uncle and the real power behind the Sutton family.

And he was also the real father of my baby.

Two months ago, at a Sutton family dinner, Henry got into another fight with me over Claire, tearing me apart in front of the whole family. I ran out to the garden, hiding behind a rockery, crying quietly.

Liam found me there. He handed me a handkerchief that smelled fresh and woody. He didn't press. He just stayed with me in silence until my emotions settled.

He told me, "Don't get upset over people who aren't worth it."

That night, Henry never came home. I got drunk, and before I knew it, I was knocking on Liam's door.

All I could remember later was how good he smelled, how warm he felt, and the way he kept murmuring in my ear, "Are you sure about this, Amelia? There's no turning back now."

I thought it was some crazy, drunken dream. But a month later, a positive pregnancy test brought me right back to reality.

I freaked out. I couldn't tell a soul, especially Henry. For a moment, I even considered secretly getting an abortion.

But now, I was grateful I didn't.

This baby wasn't some tool for revenge against the Suttons. It was the only way I could get myself out of this mess and start fresh.

I wiped my tears, stood up, and walked to the window, drawing the curtain a bit.

Downstairs, a black Bentley was parked under the streetlight. A tall guy leaned against the car, the tip of his cigarette glowing on and off in the dark.

As if sensing my gaze, he looked up and turned his eyes toward my window.

Even from so many floors up, I could feel the reassurance and strength in his gaze.

I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and replied to his message: [No, I'm fine. Tomorrow's going to be even better.]

Tomorrow, everything would be better. Henry, Linda, Richard, and Claire, you all owed me. And I'd collect every debt, with interest.