Chapter 2

I met Charles through a blind date. At 26 years old, my family was already pushing me to get married, and Charles was easily the best match I'd met.

He was refined, polite, tall, and well-spoken, with a master's degree from a top university. Everything about him screamed gentleman.

"So," I asked, "how many relationships have you had?"

He looked bashful, lowering his gaze with a shy smile. "I'll be honest with you. This is actually my first relationship."

"Your first one?" I blurted, eyes wide.

Charles caught my surprised look and chuckled. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

After that, he started courting me with surprising enthusiasm—persistent, attentive, even sweet.

And he truly hadn't lied.

What he didn't tell me was that deep down, he'd always harbored feelings for someone else—his first love that he could only admire from afar.

After we married, Charles and I built a film and TV company from scratch. Over the years, several of the young artists we signed began making names for themselves.

When we were registering the company, I asked what we should call it.

Without missing a beat, Charles said, "Let's call it Jules Media."

I didn't find out what that name really meant until three years after our wedding. And when I did, it felt like a slap in the face.

That night, Charles came home drunk—so drunk the driver had to carry him upstairs. In three years of marriage, I'd never seen him like that.

He kept muttering, slurring, "Julia... Julia, I miss you so much."

Julia? Who the heck was Julia?

I ran through every possible scenario in my head, bracing myself for the worst.

Charles was sick all night, and I stayed by his side, caring for him nonstop.

Early the next morning, he woke to find me resting my head on his bed. He reached out, gently touching my face. "You must be exhausted, Darling."

I gave him a small smile. "Last night, you kept calling out Julia's name. Who is she?"

Charles clearly hadn't expected me to be so direct. He jolted upright in bed, looking caught off guard.

After a long pause, he finally said, "Julia and I aren't like that."

"Then what are you two, really?" I pressed.

He lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly. "Julia and I grew up together. She moved abroad a few years ago. But trust me, nothing ever happened between us."

A crushing disappointment washed over me, numbing me to my very core.

I stared at the man I'd shared a bed with for over three years and barely recognized him. Was this really the person I married?

"So those yearly trips to Upria," I said coldly, "were you just going there to see her?"

Charles hung his head in silence. He didn't say a word for the longest time.

From that day on, we were strangers living under the same roof.

But life had a twisted sense of humor. Two months later, during a routine medical check-up, I found out I was pregnant.

Part of me wanted to give him another chance for the baby's sake. The thought of my child growing up without a father was too painful to bear.

When I was about five months along, I brought him the results from my latest prenatal exam.

Charles' face lit up with excitement. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? This is huge news!"

"Do you really care?" I shot back, my voice cold.

"Of course I do!" he said, scooping me into his arms, grinning from ear to ear. "You and the baby are the most important people in my life."

I looked at him, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he could still be a good dad, even if he wasn't a good husband.

But the more hope I placed in him, the deeper the disappointment cut.

Charles set me up in the best private hospital money could buy. As the due date neared, I was practically bedridden, but he barely showed up. His usual excuse was, "I'm swamped running the company while you're away. Too busy. I'll come when I can."

When the day finally came, I went through a nightmare of a labor, more than ten grueling hours.

And Charles never showed up.

After it was all over, I lay in bed, barely able to move, when his assistant came over. "Claire, you've really been through a lot. Congratulations," she said softly.

I gave her a weak smile. "Where's Mr. Sterling?"

She scratched her head, looking awkward. "Mr. Sterling said there's an important client arriving today, so he went to the airport to meet them. He'll come see you once he's done."

I knew every major client our company had by heart.

I looked up at her, my tone razor-sharp. "What client could possibly be more important than his wife giving birth?"

She stammered, "Mr. Sterling didn't say. You just had a baby; you're still weak. Please, try to rest."

She looked so young, probably fresh out of university, that I couldn't bring myself to snap at her. "Okay," I murmured.

It wasn't until the third day after I gave birth that Charles finally showed up.

He brought a huge bouquet of flowers over to my bedside and offered them with a gentle smile. "You've been so strong, Darling," he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

Then he turned to look at our son. "He really takes after his dad, doesn't he?" he said proudly.

I stared at him, and honestly, just looking at his face made my stomach churn.

All the pain I'd been swallowing finally broke free. My tears fell in heavy drops, soaking the blanket. Charles froze, startled.

"Charles," I cried, my voice shaking, "where were you these past few days? You have no idea, do you? I went through over ten hours of labor, and I nearly died on that table.

"You always told me the baby and I were the most important things in your life, so why weren't you there for me?"

I was sobbing so hard the words barely came out, but I didn't stop.

I was determined to let Charles see my breakdown firsthand and let him witness how shattered I really was.

Only that could hit him with some real guilt and shake him up inside for once.

I was weak, pale, and exhausted, but I still continued, "Charles, I know I can't erase whoever you love, and if you really see me as nothing but extra, I can stop being Mrs. Sterling.

"But could you—just this once, when I need you most—show me and the baby even the smallest bit of love? Just a scrap."

Charles' brow furrowed, guilt shadowing his face. "I'm sorry, Claire. I really am."

I turned away, wiped my tears, and forced a shaky smile. "Don't apologize. You're my husband, the father of my child, and the man I love most."

Just saying that made my skin crawl, but it hit him right where I wanted it to.