Chapter 2

The other rich girls couldn't help but envy how Edward's devotion to me never wavered, and how he trusted me.

I was just allergic to poplar and willow fluff, but Edward went so far as to have every poplar and willow tree in the city removed, all for me.

He tossed the salad himself and placed it right in front of me.

I gave him a polite thank you, then started eating, taking my time with each bite.

While we were eating, his phone kept buzzing, and my eyes drifted over unconsciously.

He thought I wanted to try the fish in front of him, so without thinking, he picked up a piece and dropped it into my bowl.

When he realized I was actually looking at his phone, he gave me a faint smile and passed it to me without hesitation.

"Anna, you're actually taking the initiative to care about me," he teased, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Edward never tried to hide his side chicks from me.

Maybe it was just that no one did the husband thing better than he did.

He was totally devoted to our family, always there when we needed him.

Even the smallest things about me were always his top priority.

Even my parents were no exception. My dad had so many illegitimate kids that they could probably field a whole soccer team.

My mom had her uterus removed after an accident, so she couldn't give my dad an heir.

They picked one of my dad's illegitimate kids, whose mom died young, to carry on to take over the company.

He always treated my mom with respect and looked out for me, his half-sister.

In high society, virtue was nothing but a punchline.

They might look polished on the outside, but inside, it was all filth.

I took the phone, and sure enough, Jenna had already been wiped from his friends list.

After crossing me, she'd never dare show her face in the city again.

Scrolling down, I saw Monica Reed.

She was an actress, and the only one who'd managed to stay by Edward's side for more than three years.

I'd met her before. She was genuinely humble and respectful.

Whenever she saw me, she always walked on eggshells, never daring to cross any lines.

Edward really appreciated how Monica always knew her place and acted with tact, so from time to time, he'd help her out with some resources.

Her career was thriving. Just last weekend, I spotted her at a fashion show.

I was there with Edward, attending as his wife.

Monica glided down the red carpet in a couture gown, her every move designed to show off the dress to the audience—not herself.

I only paused to look for a second, and Edward instantly told his assistant to contact the designer and have one custom-made for me.

Monica caught this and gave me a soft, respectful nod.

She didn't linger and didn't even try to talk to Edward with me standing right there.

That night, Edward caught the irritation in my eyes. He leaned in, whispering in my ear, "You don't like her? Then I won't see her anymore."

He was dead serious. If I couldn't stand someone, he'd never mess with them.

I shook my head, couldn't help but laugh. "Edward, I'm not that dramatic."

Ever since we met, I always called him Edward—never any nicknames.

Back in high school, after evening classes, we'd leave the school gate one after the other.

The moonlight would stretch his shadow out long, and I'd quietly follow behind, sneaking little steps on it.

It was the stillness of a starry night.

It was the passionate energy of summer evenings.

It was that rush that a teenage girl felt.

Edward pulled me close by the waist. The world was noisy around us, but his voice was soft as he said, "Anna, let's have a baby."

I didn't say anything. I just stared into his eyes, seeing myself reflected there.