Chapter 1
I used to be the most pampered girl in Giano City, but for Hudson Gomez, I gave it all up and spent three years in the kitchen, cooking just for him.
At my birthday party, I was all smiles, waiting for him to cut the cake.
But then he got a call, his expression changed instantly, and he left the guests behind, rushing out the door.
Half an hour later, his assistant posted a picture of a Band-Aid on her feed.
She wrote: [Got a paper cut from an A4 sheet, but Mr. Gomez personally bandaged it for me. So lucky.]
In the background, Hudson was holding her hand so carefully, his eyes full of concern.
He looked even more worried than when I was seriously injured in that car accident years ago.
Everyone in the comments was shipping them, and nobody even remembered it was my birthday.
I took off my diamond ring and chucked it right into the trash can.
Hudson, since you loved acting like a doctor so much, I let you treat all you wanted.
I posted on my feed as well, with a photo of our divorce certificates. [Time's up, no second chances. Trash taken out.]
*****
The massive crystal chandelier scattered shimmering light across the party hall on the twenty-sixth floor.
I sat at the head of the table in a custom galaxy-themed gown, looking every bit like a delicate porcelain doll.
In front of me was a three-tiered fondant cake, topped with two sugar figurines, mini versions of Hudson and me.
This was my twenty-sixth birthday party.
And it marked my third year as Hudson's wife.
I'd started prepping for this day a week ago, even testing recipes in the kitchen. The burn marks on the back of my hand still hadn't faded.
Everyone in Giano City joked that I was a pampered princess, someone who never lifted a finger in the kitchen.
But only I knew, for Hudson's picky taste, I'd gotten pretty good at cooking.
"Mr. Gomez isn't here yet, is he?" my best friend whispered.
She leaned in close, her voice barely audible.
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
It was exactly eight o'clock.
An hour had already passed since the party was supposed to start.
The guests' chatter grew louder, mixed with awkward glances in my direction.
I gripped my phone tightly, my palm slick with sweat.
"He'll be here soon," I said.
I kept up a polite smile, but my voice lacked confidence.
Just then, the door swung open.
Hudson rushed in, wearing a gray suit.
He didn't even look at me, heading straight for the main seat, his brows tightly knit.
My heart leapt, I was just about to stand up and greet him.
But his phone rang.
It was the custom ringtone he set for me.
The moment Hudson answered, I saw his usually cold face change in an instant.
That urgency? Yeah, never for me.
Hudson spoke into the phone, his voice trembling, "Don't be scared. I'm coming right now."
He hung up and turned to leave.
Instinctively, I grabbed the edge of his jacket.
"Hudson, we haven't cut the cake yet..." I said softly.
He shook off my hand.
"Isla's hurt. She's at the hospital," he said coldly.
He strode out of the party hall without looking back.
His departure was absolute, not a hint of hesitation.
The air seemed to freeze. I stood there, frozen.
The whispers around me crashed in like waves, swallowing me whole.
Half an hour later, my phone buzzed.
I unlocked the screen.
It was Isla's feed.
She'd posted a photo, no filters, just real life.
A hand, with one of Hudson's signature cartoon band-aids stuck on the index finger.
He always carried those to comfort me when I had to get shots.
The caption stung my eyes. In the corner of the photo, I could see half of Hudson's face.
He was holding that hand, his eyes full of concern.
Even when I broke two ribs in that car accident, he'd never looked that worried.
Back then, he'd just frowned, blaming me for being careless and delaying his contract signing.
The comment section was blowing up.
Everyone at the company was flooding the feed: [I ship them so hard.] [Mr. Gomez is so whipped.]
No one remembered it was my birthday.
No one cared that I was sitting here alone, staring at a table full of cold leftovers.
My chest hurt so much that I could barely breathe.
Turns out, all that "work emergency" was just him bandaging a paper cut for another woman, a wound that didn't even bleed.
I looked down at the oversized pink diamond ring on my finger.
Hudson had picked it out casually when we got married, saying pink was perfect for a spoiled heiress like me.
For three years, I treated it like my most precious treasure, never taking it off, not even for a shower or while sleeping.
Now, it just felt like a cruel joke, always reminding me just how naive I was.
I took a deep breath and slipped the ring off.
Then I chucked it into the trash can in the corner.
That priceless diamond ring ended up buried among grimy fruit peels and garbage.
I grabbed my phone and posted on my feed.