Chapter 1
A few years ago, our former nanny suddenly shared a post on her social media—a photo of her hugging a pair of twin boys.
The caption read: [My two sons look just like their dad. Genes are seriously powerful.]
I eyed the kids suspiciously; they bore an uncanny resemblance to Rickey Howe's eyes and features.
Half-jokingly, I asked him, "Honey, these aren't your kids, are they?"
Rickey's face went pale in an instant. "How could they be? Don't overthink it!"
I didn't give it much thought at first.
But then one day, I saw it with my own eyes: the happy family of four strolling into the amusement park. My heart turned to ashes.
When I brought up divorce, everyone urged me to forgive Rickey—simply because I'd lost the ability to have children.
After ten years of marriage, I still couldn't let go of our relationship.
So I laid out one final condition for him.
"The boys can be recognized as yours and join the family line, but you and Lucy have to cut all ties for good!"
"Keep the kids and abandon the mother? Tamra! I never took you for someone so heartless."
I'd miscarried three times because of him, losing my fertility forever.
Yet he'd secretly fathered children with the nanny behind my back—and now he had the gall to call me heartless?
No grief cut deeper than a dead heart. I pushed down the waves of despair churning inside me.
Calmly, I replied, "Fine then. I'll step aside and let you two be together."
I didn't utter the word "divorce" right away, terrified I'd break down and sob uncontrollably.
But Rickey misinterpreted my silence. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Since you're on board with this, I'll go pick up Lucy and our son right now. From here on out, we'll make a good life together as a family!"
I froze, staring at him in utter disbelief.
"What are you even thinking? I'd never accept them into our lives! What I meant was, Rickey—we're getting a divorce!"
"Tamra, are you out of your mind? Divorce? Who'd want you after this? How would you even get by on your own?"
His words hit me like a hallucination. Was this really the man I'd married?
After ten years together, had I sunk so low in his eyes?
I'd once been a driven entrepreneur, a real go-getter.
My heart ached beyond words, yet my voice came out calmer than ever. "When we got married, we promised not to toss around the word 'divorce' lightly. If I'm saying it now, it means I'm serious about ending this."
When he saw me slip quietly into the bedroom to pack my things, Rickey barged in after me, jabbing a finger in my face and roaring.
"You think you're the victim here? All these years, how have I ever mistreated you? And now, over something like this, you're demanding a divorce?
"You're no match for Lucy. She's stuck by me for five years with no official status, always putting me first, never once pissing me off! How could I ditch a woman as amazing as her?"
I paused mid-motion, fixing him with a steady gaze, as if he were a total stranger.
"If she's that perfect, then go ahead and marry her. I wish you both all the happiness in the world!"
Ten years ago, Rickey and I had gone from high school sweethearts to a married couple, the kind everyone envied.
Back then, when I decided to start my own business, he backed me 100 percent. Every evening after his job, he'd brainstorm strategies with me and pull all-nighters by my side.
Right as the company was set to launch, I found out I was pregnant.
I wanted to keep it, but Rickey argued that my career was just taking off, so maybe we should wait.
Two years later, with the business finally stable, I got pregnant again. But he claimed he wasn't ready for fatherhood yet.
While I was still waffling, I took a bad fall and miscarried.
The third pregnancy ended the same way, turning into a pattern of recurrent miscarriages.
After that, I never got pregnant again.
Rickey just smiled and reassured me, saying being DINKs—double income, no kids—suited us just fine.
Whenever his parents nagged us about having children, he'd shoulder the blame, insisting the problem was with him. He'd down every foul-tasting herbal concoction they prescribed without a single complaint.
On our tenth anniversary, my mother-in-law issued an ultimatum: we had to try IVF.
The egg retrieval hurt so badly I thought I might die, tears pouring down my face.
Rickey's eyes welled up as he said, "Honey, we don't have to go through this. It kills me to see you suffer!"
I was naive enough back then to believe he truly meant it.
Only now did I realize that Lucy was already four months along at the time, with a solid pregnancy—and twins, no less.
He didn't need me to bear his children anymore.
His parents figured I was the one refusing to try, so they'd snipe at me with sarcasm. At first, Rickey stood up for me, but eventually, he tuned it out and just urged me to bite my tongue and endure it.
After three miscarriages with no real recovery time, my body was wrecked with lingering health issues. Rickey persuaded me to step back and rest at home, promising he'd manage the company just fine.
Once he was in charge, he was always jetting off on business trips, rarely coming home at night.
Friends cautioned me that guys constantly on the road like that were bound to stray, and I should keep tabs on him. But I brushed it off.