Chapter 1

The tenth time I found Julian cheating in our bed, his reaction wasn't as intense as before.

He glanced at his watch, then gently draped a coat over the young woman in his arms.

Turning to me, he said, "Your prenatal appointment isn't until this afternoon, is it? Why are you back so early?"

When I didn't answer, he gently stroked her head.

"If you want to argue, argue with me! Don't hurt her!"

He thought I'd throw another huge tantrum, just like always.

But what he didn't know was that our ten-year pact was almost up.

I was finally going to be free of him.

On our wedding photo by the bed, two clear handprints stood out. One on my face, one on Julian's. It was easy to imagine exactly what they'd been doing moments before.

I took a deep breath and turned to Julian. "Didn't we agree you wouldn't bring anyone home?"

"Do you even remember what day it is today?"

Julian scoffed, unfazed. He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke right into my face. "Had too much to drink, how could I remember so many things?"

The young woman beside him, Chelsea, flinched. She scrambled to put on her clothes, nervously glancing at me. "Mrs. Sterling, I didn't mean to."

"It was last night…"

Seeing her fumbling, I walked closer and zipped up the back of her dress. "It's fine. You can go."

"I know exactly what kind of man Julian is."

This wasn't the first time this had happened in all these years. Drunk, in a bad mood, bored, looking for fun. Anything could be an excuse for him to cheat. As for this young woman, I couldn't even keep track of how many there had been. Why bother getting angry at her?

Chelsea scurried away, terrified. I called Maria, our housekeeper, to clean up the room. The messy room, the scattered contraceptives on the floor. It was sickening to look at. I covered my nose and mouth, spraying disinfectant everywhere.

Julian came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His head, fuzzy from sleep, nuzzled into my neck. "Honey, when did you become so understanding?"

"Are you worried I won't come back, or have you finally learned how to be a proper socialite?" He squeezed my cheek, smirking. "This is so much better."

"As long as you're obedient, I'll never let anyone take your place as Mrs. Sterling."

With that, Julian expertly pulled a pair of earrings from a pile of gift boxes and put them on me. "This is your reward."

"Alright, don't be mad. I know today is our tenth wedding anniversary."

"Wipe your tears, I'll take you out to celebrate."

He said it so casually. But he didn't know that in these ten years, my tears had long since run dry.

I avoided Julian's touch, holding out the divorce papers I'd already prepared. "Julian, let's get a divorce."

He froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Don't be ridiculous, Aurora."

"You know we can't divorce."

He pinched my cheek, his hand trailing down my body, stopping at my lower abdomen. "Go pack your things. I'll take you to your prenatal appointment."

"Don't cause trouble for yourself."

Years ago, to be with Julian, I broke ties with my family. My father declared I was never to set foot in our home again. To punish my willfulness, he pulled some strings, binding Julian and me together. No breakups, no divorce. For life, whether in love or hate, we were to remain with each other.

Back then, Julian knelt before me, swearing he'd love me for life, promising I'd never regret my choice. But in the second year of our marriage, he betrayed us. Julian, arm-in-arm with his mistress, looked at me defiantly. "Yes, I cheated. What can you do about it?"

"Aurora, you have nowhere to go."

"For the rest of your life, you're stuck with me!"

I cried, calling my family, saying I regretted everything. My father coldly hung up. My mother stood by, doing nothing. They said it was the path I chose, and I had to walk it till the end, even if I was crying.

And so, knowing I couldn't leave, Julian grew more brazen, more reckless. He had endless affairs, his scandals constantly in the tabloids. Now, he was openly bringing women into our home.

But what he didn't know was that when I left, I made a ten-year pact with my father. A gamble on how long our love would last. If I won, he would do everything to support our marriage. If I lost, I would return and accept the family's arranged marriage.

Because of Julian, this marriage, this gamble—I lost everything spectacularly.

While Julian was driving, I dialed that familiar number. "Dad, I lost."

"A bet's a bet. I'll be back in three days to marry him."