Chapter 1

When a massive earthquake leveled our downtown Seattle office, I was trapped under the rubble, bleeding out.

My wife risked her life, rushing into the collapsing building.

But the man she pulled from the wreckage wasn't me. It was Ryan Mercer, the company's new software engineer.

She didn't even spare a glance in my direction as she hurried him away.

While I was rushed to the ER with severe crush injuries and massive blood loss, my wife was busy coddling a man who barely had a scratch.

That was the moment my heart finally went dead. I pulled out the divorce papers.

Claire tore them to shreds like a madwoman, assuming I would just compromise like I always did.

But she didn't know—this time, I was truly done.

Another aftershock ripped through the building. The entire office floor swayed violently, groaning under the strain. It was going to collapse at any second.

Suddenly, Ryan Mercer shoved me hard.

I lost my footing and crashed into a pile of shattered desks.

The moment I hit the ground, a massive concrete slab broke loose from the ceiling and slammed directly onto my arm.

The pain was blinding. I nearly blacked out.

"Ryan! I'm here to save you!"

Through the dust, the office door was shoved open. Claire stood there, coughing, covering her mouth and nose.

It was my wife. I opened my mouth to call out for help.

But Ryan beat me to it. "Claire, stay back! The baby—you can't get hurt!"

The words hit me harder than the concrete. Before my brain could even process what he'd just said, Ryan kicked a loose wooden board, sending it crashing down in my direction to block my path.

He scrambled over the debris and threw himself into Claire's arms.

They held each other tight amid the chaos. It would have been a beautiful, heartwarming scene—if the woman wasn't my wife.

The agonizing pain in my crushed arm snapped me back to reality.

I stared at them, forced to swallow the bitter truth.

The woman who once told me she couldn't survive a day without me was currently clinging to another man.

And she was carrying his child.

Watching them hold each other, our eight-year marriage suddenly felt like a sick, twisted joke.

It felt like a knife twisting directly into my chest. I couldn't breathe.

Ryan coughed dramatically, gripping Claire's arm. "Claire, I... I can't breathe. I can't walk."

"Don't be scared. I've already arranged for the best medical equipment from the hospital. We're leaving right now."

Claire was pale with panic. She supported his weight, and together, they rushed out the door.

From the moment she walked in to the moment she left, she didn't look at me once.

Her eyes were only for Ryan.

If she had just turned her head a fraction of an inch, she would have seen me bleeding out on the floor.

I lay there, completely drained of strength. Every cough tore at my wounds, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the hollow, rotting sensation in my chest.

Right before I lost consciousness, the flashing lights of the paramedics finally broke through the dust.

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the ceiling of a room in St. Catherine's Private Medical Center.

The ward was eerily quiet. From down the hall, the hushed voices of the nursing staff drifted in.

"Did you see Claire Whitmore in the suite next door? The bulldog lawyer? She's with her first love."

"I've seen her on TV looking so ruthless, but with him? She's practically spoon-feeding him."

"I know, right? It's so sweet!"

"The guy isn't even hurt. He's just a little shaken up, and she refuses to leave his side."

"Then look at the guy in this room. He's barely clinging to life, and not a single person has come to see him."

Every word drove the nail deeper.

I remembered a few years ago when my severe stomach ulcers flared up. The pain was so paralyzing I couldn't even stand.

I called Claire, begging her to help me contact the hospital. Her voice on the phone had been calm, professional, and entirely unyielding.

She said no.

"Ethan, I'm in the middle of a deposition. I can't just drop my case to play nurse. Take an antacid."

Then she hung up.

I had to dial 911 myself. I passed out from the pain before the ambulance even arrived.

Chapter 1

When a massive earthquake leveled our downtown Seattle office, I was trapped under the rubble, bleeding out.

My wife risked her life, rushing into the collapsing building.

But the man she pulled from the wreckage wasn't me. It was Ryan Mercer, the company's new software engineer.

She didn't even spare a glance in my direction as she hurried him away.

While I was rushed to the ER with severe crush injuries and massive blood loss, my wife was busy coddling a man who barely had a scratch.

That was the moment my heart finally went dead. I pulled out the divorce papers.

Claire tore them to shreds like a madwoman, assuming I would just compromise like I always did.

But she didn't know—this time, I was truly done.

Another aftershock ripped through the building. The entire office floor swayed violently, groaning under the strain. It was going to collapse at any second.

Suddenly, Ryan Mercer shoved me hard.

I lost my footing and crashed into a pile of shattered desks.

The moment I hit the ground, a massive concrete slab broke loose from the ceiling and slammed directly onto my arm.

The pain was blinding. I nearly blacked out.

"Ryan! I'm here to save you!"

Through the dust, the office door was shoved open. Claire stood there, coughing, covering her mouth and nose.

It was my wife. I opened my mouth to call out for help.

But Ryan beat me to it. "Claire, stay back! The baby—you can't get hurt!"

The words hit me harder than the concrete. Before my brain could even process what he'd just said, Ryan kicked a loose wooden board, sending it crashing down in my direction to block my path.

He scrambled over the debris and threw himself into Claire's arms.

They held each other tight amid the chaos. It would have been a beautiful, heartwarming scene—if the woman wasn't my wife.

The agonizing pain in my crushed arm snapped me back to reality.

I stared at them, forced to swallow the bitter truth.

The woman who once told me she couldn't survive a day without me was currently clinging to another man.

And she was carrying his child.

Watching them hold each other, our eight-year marriage suddenly felt like a sick, twisted joke.

It felt like a knife twisting directly into my chest. I couldn't breathe.

Ryan coughed dramatically, gripping Claire's arm. "Claire, I... I can't breathe. I can't walk."

"Don't be scared. I've already arranged for the best medical equipment from the hospital. We're leaving right now."

Claire was pale with panic. She supported his weight, and together, they rushed out the door.

From the moment she walked in to the moment she left, she didn't look at me once.

Her eyes were only for Ryan.

If she had just turned her head a fraction of an inch, she would have seen me bleeding out on the floor.

I lay there, completely drained of strength. Every cough tore at my wounds, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the hollow, rotting sensation in my chest.

Right before I lost consciousness, the flashing lights of the paramedics finally broke through the dust.

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the ceiling of a room in St. Catherine's Private Medical Center.

The ward was eerily quiet. From down the hall, the hushed voices of the nursing staff drifted in.

"Did you see Claire Whitmore in the suite next door? The bulldog lawyer? She's with her first love."

"I've seen her on TV looking so ruthless, but with him? She's practically spoon-feeding him."

"I know, right? It's so sweet!"

"The guy isn't even hurt. He's just a little shaken up, and she refuses to leave his side."

"Then look at the guy in this room. He's barely clinging to life, and not a single person has come to see him."

Every word drove the nail deeper.

I remembered a few years ago when my severe stomach ulcers flared up. The pain was so paralyzing I couldn't even stand.

I called Claire, begging her to help me contact the hospital. Her voice on the phone had been calm, professional, and entirely unyielding.

She said no.

"Ethan, I'm in the middle of a deposition. I can't just drop my case to play nurse. Take an antacid."

Then she hung up.

I had to dial 911 myself. I passed out from the pain before the ambulance even arrived.