Chapter 1

Edward Grant and I were known as the model couple at the machinery factory.

When he suddenly fell critically ill and was hospitalized, I went to his office to pack up his things. That was when I found the thick, hardcover technical manual he always kept by his side.

The manual had been hollowed out. Inside, hidden in the cavity, were a marriage certificate and a family record booklet.

I opened them. Edward was listed as the husband. The wife's name was his female apprentice, Julia Bennett.

He actually dared to commit bigamy. And their son's name was Michael Grant.

They even had a son.

The boy's name sounded old-fashioned.

He was only two years younger than my son.

I felt ice run through my veins as I remembered how, over the years, Edward would often talk about grooming a "successor." He'd bring along a young intern named "Michael," teaching him hands-on, his eyes full of admiration.

I'd even praised the boy as clever and told Edward to look after him more.

It turned out Edward was already paving the way for Michael. Our home, everything we'd built together as a couple, in his eyes, it had probably already become another son's inheritance.

I sat in that hospital room reeking of disinfectant, clutching that heavy marriage certificate and household register, staring at the man who'd been planning our future while actually gutting us from the inside.

For the first time, from the bottom of my heart, I hoped he would never wake up.

*****

Right then, Edward's female apprentice Julia poked her head timidly through the door.

She was wearing a plain plaid skirt, her eyes rimmed red, looking like a frightened rabbit.

I'd seen this act for over a decade, ever since she first started as Edward's apprentice at the factory.

"Mrs. Grant." Her voice was tearful as she tiptoed in. "I made some chicken soup. Thought it might help Mr. Grant recover."

I said nothing, watching her set the thermos on the nightstand. Then she picked up a towel and began gently wiping Edward's forehead with practiced ease, like she'd done it a thousand times before.

"Mrs. Grant, you've been here for days. You must be exhausted." She turned to me, her eyes getting even redder. "You look so pale. Please don't wear yourself out. If Mr. Grant knew, he'd be so worried."

She paused, lowering her voice with a barely noticeable hint of reproach. "His illness came on so suddenly. If only someone had been paying closer attention to his health before this..."

I looked up and watched her performance in silence.

The words sounded like concern, but every sentence was an accusation that I, as his wife, had failed in my duty.

Right. Edward was the factory's deputy chief engineer, a technical genius, the factory's golden boy. His collapse was a massive deal. Too many projects depended on him. So, the blame for working him to the breaking point had to fall on me, his wife.

I curved my lips into a faint smile, my fingers brushing against the cloth bag I carried. Inside was that hardcover "technical manual," now weighing a ton.

"Julia, you're right," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "I probably haven't been taking good care of Edward."

Julia's hand paused mid-motion. She hadn't expected me to agree, and so "sincerely."

I kept smiling. "Edward always praises you. Says you're thoughtful, attentive. Since you care so much..."

I paused, then said clearly, "Then it's only right that you take care of him for a while."

Julia froze, the towel hanging in midair, a flicker of panic and disbelief crossing her eyes. She'd probably expected me to politely decline, or at least get upset at her barbs.

My sudden "handing over" caught her completely off guard.

"M-Mrs. Grant, I couldn't possibly..." She waved her hands frantically. "I'm just an apprentice, this is..."

"What's wrong with being an apprentice?" I cut her off, still warm. "Edward has treated you better than a daughter all these years, and everyone at the factory knows it.

"Now that he's sick, your care means more than anything. Besides, I need to rest too. The factory and home are piling up with work."

I stood up, giving her the spot by the bedside. "Edward is in your hands now. I trust you."

Julia opened her mouth, but I was already gathering my things. Her protests got stuck in her throat. She was probably overjoyed inside, but my reaction felt so wrong that she didn't know how to respond.

I picked up my bag and took one last look at Edward in the hospital bed.

His face was pale, eyes closed, breathing weak.

Just a few days ago, he'd been at the dinner table, speaking earnestly to our son Alex. "Alex, you need to work hard. Everything I've built in my life, I'll leave to you.

"That intern Michael, I see a lot of potential in him. Smart and hardworking. You should get to know him. He'll be a good asset for you in the future."

An asset?

Back then, I thought he was being a thoughtful father, laying groundwork for our son.

Now, it was the cruelest irony.

That young intern "Michael," the one he talked about constantly, taught personally, looked at with such admiration, was "Michael Grant," the son listed on that marriage certificate, two years younger than our own child.

He wasn't grooming a helper for Alex. He was clearing the path for his first son. Slowly but surely, he'd been gutting Alex and me, turning our home into his other son's inheritance.

Julia had already composed herself, picking the towel back up with practiced meekness. "Mrs. Grant, don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of everything here."

I nodded without looking back and walked out of the room.

The hallway smelled even stronger of disinfectant.

I walked with my back straight, step by step. My nails dug into my palms. The small pain kept me clearheaded.

A little over an hour ago, I'd gotten a call from the factory office saying Edward had collapsed and been rushed to the hospital. I panicked, racing to his office to grab his clothes and personal items.

That thick technical manual, its edges worn soft, had been sitting in the most prominent spot on his desk. He always said that technology was the foundation of one's standing, and that manual was his lifeline.

I reached for it, but my grip slipped. It hit the floor.

A heavy thud. The cover cracked along the spine.

I picked it up quickly, but it felt too light. Through the crack, I could see something hollow inside.

On impulse, I pried it open.

Nestled in the hand-carved cavity was a marriage certificate, crisp, official, and unmistakably real.

*****

The memory stopped there.

I stepped out of the hospital building. The afternoon sun was harsh.

I raised my hand to block the light, also hiding the sudden heat behind my eyes.

I told myself not to cry for someone like Edward. It wasn't worth it.

Since he had the nerve to build this hollow lie, he couldn't blame me for shattering the facade of our model marriage, along with every carefully calculated plan he'd made for his future.

I hoped he'd better never wake up.

Because if he did, I'd make sure he watched how he, Julia, and their son lose everything, piece by piece.

Just like I'm standing here now, holding this marriage certificate, my heart reduced to ashes.