Chapter 2

I didn't go home.

After leaving the hospital, I took a cab straight to the City Hall.

The clerk pulled up Edward's marriage records for me.

It was right there in black and white. Spouse: Emily Lane. Date of marriage: March 12, 2021.

I got the fake "marriage certificate" on March 20.

They got legally married first, then handed me a fake certificate.

I sat on a hard plastic chair in the City Hall lobby, one hand resting on my belly.

Five months pregnant.

The baby was quiet, not kicking or moving.

I took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times.

Not a single tear fell.

I couldn't tell if I should cry or laugh. Three years. More than a thousand days. We shared a bed. I called him my husband. I cooked for him every night and waited for him to come home.

It had all been a lie.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found Edward's name.

But I didn't call him.

I kept scrolling and found another number.

Charles Stone.

That name had been in my contacts for only three months.

Three months ago, I went with Edward to a business association dinner. I bumped into someone around a hallway corner, spilling red wine all over his suit, and hurried to apologize.

The man was tall, dressed in a dark gray suit, his cufflinks catching the light.

He looked down at me and said, "It's fine."

Then he handed me his business card.

"Send me the dry-cleaning bill," he added.

The card read, "Charles Stone, Chairman of Stonebridge Holdings."

Edward's expression changed when he saw the card.

He snatched it from my hand, tore it to pieces, and threw it in the trash.

"Stay away from him from now on," he snarled.

I didn't understand why at the time.

Later, I found out that Charles was Edward's biggest rival in business. Charles had beaten Edward to three major deals, costing him tens of millions of dollars.

But that night, when I got home, I found another business card tucked in my bag.

I didn't know when he'd slipped it in.

There was a handwritten note on the back, reading, "Next time we meet, try not to spill red wine on me."

I smiled at the time and tucked the card away in my drawer.

Now, sitting in the City Hall lobby, I stared at that number on my phone.

I'd saved his number as "Mr. Dry Cleaning."

My finger hovered over the screen.

What was I thinking?

I was thinking about what Edward was most afraid of.

Not bankruptcy. Not a scandal.

It was Charles Stone.

I pressed the call button.

It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Hello?" His voice was low and slightly lazy.

"Mr. Stone, it's me—the woman who ran into you at that dinner," I said.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"Red Wine Lady," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Calling about the dry cleaning?"

"No." I gripped my phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. "I want to see you. There's something I need to talk to you about."

He didn't ask what it was.

He just gave me an address and a time. "Tomorrow at 3 PM, top floor of Galaxy Tower. I'll be waiting for you."

After hanging up, I stood up and walked out of the City Hall.

The sun was blazing.

I touched my belly.

"Baby, I'm taking you home. But it won't be that home anymore," I whispered.

*****

The seventy-second floor of Galaxy Tower.

The elevator doors opened and a blast of cold air hit me.

The receptionist glanced at me—no makeup, flats, and a five-month baby bump stretching the loose dress over my belly.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Charles Stone," I replied.

The receptionist stiffened.

Before she could say anything, the door to the office beside her opened.

An assistant in a vest stepped out and said politely, "Ms. Lane? Mr. Stone is waiting for you. This way, please."

The receptionist stiffened even more.

I followed the assistant down the hallway and into the office at the very end.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the entire city below.

Charles sat behind his desk, flipping through a file.

He looked up at the sound of the door.

His gaze moved from my face to my belly and lingered there for a second.

"Sit," he said.

I got straight to the point. "My marriage certificate with Edward is fake. He legally married my half-sister three years ago."

Charles set the file down and leaned back in his chair.

There was no shock, no nosy curiosity. He just looked at me, his expression calm.

"So?" he asked.

"I need a marriage." I looked him straight in the eye. "A real one."

He said nothing.

I continued, "I know you and Edward are business rivals. If I marry you, you won't lose anything."

The office was silent for more than ten seconds.

Then Charles smiled.

It wasn't mocking. It was a smile I couldn't quite put into words. The curve of his lips was faint, but there was a glint in his eyes.

"Grace Lane," he said, using my full name.

"Hm?" I said.

"After that dinner, I had someone look into you," he disclosed.

I blinked, surprised.

He stood up, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of me.

He was so tall I had to look up to see his expression.

"Edward isn't good enough for you," he said. "I've wanted to tell you that for three months."

He pulled something from the inside pocket of his suit.

A business card. Not a new one. The edges were creased, and it had been torn apart and pieced back together.

It was the very card Edward had ripped up.