Chapter 1
After seven years of marriage, I stood outside my husband, Andrew Hughes's office and overheard him setting up a trust.
The beneficiary wasn't me, nor was it our daughter. It was the woman he'd never let go of—his first love, Emily Shaw.
Peter Jacobs, a friend of Andrew's, asked him, "You're giving her your safety net? What about your wife?"
He replied, "She's reasonable. She won't cause trouble."
That night, for the first time, I didn't go home.
The next day, his first love came over, holding my daughter's hand, and said to me, "Mrs. Hughes, don't be so petty."
*****
"Andrew, you're giving that whole trust fund to Emily? If your wife finds out, won't she flip out on you?" Peter Reed said.
Andrew paused for a couple of seconds.
"Flip out? She won't," he replied.
I stood outside the door, holding an insulated food container.
Inside was chicken soup he'd mentioned in passing last night. I got up at six in the morning to cook it, and the soup was still steaming.
Inside, Peter lowered his voice.
"After seven years together and a kid, you're really not leaving your wife with anything?"
Andrew's voice was flat.
"Lauren's got the whole Hughes family backing her up." He paused. "Nina's a Hughes, too."
Peter couldn't even force a smile.
"What about Emily? She's not even your wife," he said.
Andrew replied, "She's been on her own all these years. It hasn't been easy for her."
My fingers slackened around the insulated food container, unable to hold on as tightly anymore.
Peter pressed, "Then why not just divorce your wife and marry her?"
The office went quiet for a few seconds.
When Andrew finally spoke, his voice was even softer than before.
"Emily's the kind of woman you love, not the kind you bring into the Hughes family," he said.
"Lauren's different," he added.
"She's steady, knows boundaries, and always knows what to ask and what not to ask."
Peter didn't say anything.
Andrew continued, "If that day ever comes, Lauren's the one I'd want with me."
I set the insulated food container on the trash can by the entrance, my fingers loosening as I let it go.
The soup sloshed a bit, but nothing spilled.
I turned and walked away without looking back.
Before the elevator doors closed, I heard Peter say, "Andrew, you're really being too much."
Andrew didn't say a word.
I stood in the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor.
My phone screen lit up.
Emily had just posted something.
In the photo, she was sitting in a spinning cup ride at the amusement park, holding Nina close in her arms.
The caption read, [Nina says I'm her favorite aunt.]
Underneath was a cropped screenshot of the trust document.
The beneficiary was her.
I locked my phone and set it aside.
The driver asked, "Mrs. Hughes, are we heading back to Hillcrest Villa?"
"No," I replied.
"Where to then?"
I pulled out a stack of dollars from my bag and handed it to him.
"Just drive wherever. Keep going until I tell you to stop," I said.
The driver glanced at me.
"Okay," he said.
The car drove on for a long time.
It hit me then—for seven years, I'd never once done something just because I wanted to.
Andrew and I were a marriage of convenience—a family alliance, nothing more.
On our wedding day, the media called us a perfect match, a marriage made in heaven.
The Hughes Family made high-end medical equipment, and the Linwood Family ran private hospitals. My marriage was just the prettiest stamp on their business deal.
It wasn't until three months into our marriage that I realized Andrew had always had someone else in his heart.
Emily.
She and Andrew had been together since college.
Her family wasn't wealthy—her mother was always sick, and Emily had health issues herself.
Andrew's mother didn't think she was a good fit for the Hughes family.
That year, as Andrew took over the family business, his mother spent the whole night at Emily's house. The next day, Emily left for Southaven.
Andrew spent three months looking for her.
Three months later, he finally agreed to marry me.
I'd been Mrs. Hughes for seven years.
Whenever he got stomachaches from all those business dinners, I'd organize his medication for him, making sure he took the right pills on the right days.
When his mother thought I wasn't warm enough, I tried to learn how to be close to her, so I started having coffee with her every week.
When Nina had a fever in the middle of the night, I'd carry her to the hospital myself, then still show up the next day, dressed to the nines, to accompany Andrew to his business dinners.
Everyone said Lauren was blessed.
Everyone wanted to be Mrs. Hughes, but nobody ever wondered if it hurt to be her.
No one ever wondered if it hurt to be Mrs. Hughes.
At nine o'clock that night, I returned to Hillcrest Villa.
Andrew was sitting in the living room, while Nina was bent over the coffee table, working on her homework.
He looked up when he heard the door open.
"Where did you go this afternoon?" Andrew asked.
I slipped off my shoes.
"Just went out for a walk," I replied.
Nina set her pen down.
"Mom, why didn't you pick me up? I was waiting at the school gate forever," she said.
I looked at her.
"Didn't I send the driver to get you?"
Nina's little face was all scrunched up.
"The driver doesn't know how to make me feel better like Aunt Emily does."
Andrew frowned.
"Your phone was off all day, so the teacher couldn't reach you. In the end, it was Emily who had to go pick her up."
"From now on, the driver will always pick you up," I said.
Nina froze.
"Mom, you're not going to pick me up anymore?"
I hung up my coat.
"I'm going back to work at the hospital."
Andrew finally put his phone down.
"Didn't you say you wouldn't work again until Nina turned ten?"
"I changed my mind," I replied.
He looked at me.
"Lauren, don't be difficult."
I gave a wry smile.
"I'm just going back to work, it's not like I'm trying to mess up the family."
Nina stood up.
"But all the other moms pick up their kids."
I asked her, "Emily picked you up, weren't you happy?"
Nina's lips parted, but she stayed silent.
Andrew's tone turned serious.
"Why are you being so hard on her?"
I looked at him.
"Andrew, from now on, I'm not picking Nina up from school, not cooking for you, not sorting out your medication, and I'm done hosting guests for the Hughes family."
His frown deepened.
"Why are you acting like this today?"
"I just want to live for myself," I said.
Suddenly, the whole living room fell silent.
Nina looked at me, her eyes full of hurt.
"Mom, do you not love me anymore?" she asked.
She'd said that to me so many times before.
Every time she said it, I'd rush over, get down to her level, pull her into a hug, apologize, promise her a new toy, and tell her I'd pick her up myself tomorrow.
But this time, I didn't.
"Love doesn't just show up whenever you want it to," I said.
I picked up my bag and walked upstairs.
Andrew called out to me.
"Lauren," he said.
I stopped.
"Don't bring your drama from outside into our home," he said.
I turned back to face him.
"Then what about you letting someone else into our daughter's life? How is that any better?" I shot back.
Andrew's expression turned cold.
"Emily was just helping, that's all," he said.
I nodded. "From now on, that's all you'll ever be—my ex-husband."
He stood up.
"What did you just say?" he asked.
"I'll have the divorce papers sent to your office," I said.
Nina burst into tears.
"I don't want that. Mom, you're so mean!" she cried.
Andrew walked over to me.
"Lauren, don't threaten me with divorce," he said.
I looked at him. "This isn't a threat."
He stared at me, like he was seeing me for the first time.
"Is this all because you didn't pick up Nina today?" he asked.
My smile faded, eyes growing colder.
"If that's what you want to believe, then fine," I replied.
I went upstairs and walked into the bedroom.
At the bottom of the nightstand, there was an old notebook.
The night before my wedding, I wrote down ten things I wanted to do.
"First, return to the hospital and work as a doctor again."
"Second, hit up a roadside hot pot joint."
"Third, see the ocean alone."
"Fourth, wear a red dress."
"Fifth, personally reclaim the Linwood Family's hospital."
"I flipped to the last page."
The page was still empty.
I picked up my pen and finally wrote a number eleven.
"Leave Andrew."