Chapter 2

The moment Julian's car disappeared down the driveway, I made the call.

I didn't dial a divorce attorney. I called a top-tier private investigator.

"I need a complete background check on a woman named Chloe Vance," I instructed, keeping my voice entirely deadpan. "And the exact hospital birth records of a three-year-old boy named Leo."

"Give me forty-eight hours," the investigator promised.

Waiting felt like walking on shattered glass.

Sitting alone in our quiet living room, I opened Facebook. Chloe's main profile was locked, maintaining her perfect corporate image.

However, searching the recent location tags for the Oak Creek Country Club yielded an open album. It was posted by Chloe's sister.

Clicking through the photos, the air completely left my lungs.

There was a candid shot of Chloe wearing the massive diamond necklace. But it was the second photo that made my stomach violently turn.

It was a close-up of a man's hand holding the little boy's hand.

Julian's face was cut out of the frame, but his wrist was in perfect focus. Wrapped around it was the custom, vintage Patek Philippe watch I had spent six months tracking down for our first anniversary.

The back of it was engraved with my handwriting: Forever Yours.

The caption underneath the photo read: "So glad Leo's daddy could finally slip away from his 'obligations' to be with his real family today. Blessed"

His obligation. That was me.

Hours later, the front door clicked open.

Julian returned from the office, looking appropriately exhausted. Walking into the master bathroom, he unclasped that exact same Patek Philippe watch and casually set it on the marble counter.

I was standing in front of the vanity mirror in my silk robe. My eyes were fixed on the long, jagged surgical scar running across my lower abdomen.

The physical reminder of the car crash. The place where my uterus used to be.

Julian's eyes softened instantly in the mirror.

Walking up behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and gently picked up a tube of scar-fading cream.

Dropping to one knee in front of me, he squeezed the cool lotion onto his fingertips. He began to massage the cream into my scarred skin with terrifyingly gentle, reverent strokes.

He treated my broken body like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Looking down at the man kneeling before me, I tested the water.

"Julian," I started, keeping my voice carefully hesitant. "I was reading an article today. About surrogacy."

His fingers completely stopped moving.

"What about it?" he asked, not looking up.

"We could do it," I said, letting a hopeful tremble slip into my voice. "You could use a surrogate. You could still have a biological heir."

Julian slowly stood up. His jaw set tight, he looked almost offended that I would even suggest such a thing.

"No." His answer was immediate and absolute.

Reaching out, he pulled me flush against his chest.

"I refuse to let another woman carry a child for us, Harper," Julian vowed fiercely. "Having a baby with another woman's body... it would feel like the ultimate betrayal of you."

A phantom pain shot through my empty abdomen.

"I don't care about a biological heir," he continued, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "I only want what we can have together. Just us."

Staring deeply into my eyes, he looked like a man willing to sacrifice his entire bloodline just to protect his wife's feelings.

"Okay," I whispered, burying my face in his neck so he couldn't see my eyes. "Just us."

Later that night, Julian fell asleep with his arm draped protectively across my waist.

The heavy, even rhythm of his breathing filled the dark room.

Carefully slipping out of his grip, I reached for my phone on the nightstand.

"Start drafting the divorce papers," I typed, the screen glowing in the pitch-black room. "I am leaving him."