Chapter 1
Cold rain, tinged with blood, streamed down between my legs.
I was kneeling in the mud, looking up as that woman upstairs smirked down at me from the second floor.
Meanwhile, my husband Freddie was making chicken soup for her.
Two days later, I was lying on a hospital bed when Freddie walked in.
My father slapped him hard across the face and roared, "Your baby is gone!"
Freddie stood there, stunned, while I smiled to myself. This was just the opening act; the real show was about to begin.
*****
Cold rain slammed against my face, blurring my vision.
Rain mixed with blood streamed down between my legs, carving shallow grooves in the muddy ground.
My name is Christine Banks, Freddie Rowe's wife.
Right now, I was kneeling in the yard of the Rowe family's villa, looking like a total mess.
This was supposed to be my home with Freddie.
Two bodyguards in black suits stood on either side of me, looming like towers.
Their job was to keep me kneeling here until the woman upstairs was satisfied.
Her name was Ella Chapman.
She was the girl Freddie cherished above all—the one he kept on a pedestal in his heart.
I looked up at the big windows upstairs.
Ella was standing there in a white silk nightgown, holding a glass of red wine, watching me from above like she owned the place.
A victorious smile curled at her lips, her eyes brimming with disdain and satisfaction.
My husband, Freddie, was standing right behind her.
He was turned sideways to the window, so I couldn't see his face.
But I could see him, head bowed, carefully adjusting Ella's shawl.
That gesture was so tender, it could've melted the rain.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, so painful I could hardly breathe.
The rain came down even harder.
Thunder crashed in my ears, and lightning ripped through the night sky, briefly lighting up Freddie's face—icy and distant.
He didn't even spare me a glance.
It was as if I were just another useless ornament out in the yard.
Freddie and I had been married for three years.
For three years, my life was nothing but a cruel joke.
Everyone knew Freddie didn't love me.
He only married me because his grandfather, Warwick Rowe, ordered him to.
The only person he ever truly loved was Ella.
Three days ago, Ella came back home from abroad.
Everything changed for Freddie in a single night.
He stopped coming home at night.
He started speaking to me in a cold, distant way.
This afternoon, Ella showed up at the villa.
She strutted around like she was the lady of the house, pointed right at me, and told me to get lost.
I argued back.
While we were pushing and shoving, she ended up falling and twisting her ankle.
And that was how I ended up in this mess.
Freddie got a call from Ella and came running back from work.
He didn't bother to ask for details, but instantly decided I was the one who picked on Ella.
He ordered the bodyguards to make me kneel out in the yard.
He said, "Christine, you can get up when Ella's done being mad at you."
How ridiculous.
He was putting his own wife through all this humiliation, all for another woman.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my lower belly.
I knew I might be losing this baby.
Yeah, I was pregnant.
I just found out about it a week ago.
I was going to surprise Freddie with the news on our anniversary.
But now, there was no point in telling him.
This baby was never meant for this world.
His father never wanted him to be born.
Blood kept pouring out, and my mind started to fade.
Just before I blacked out, I saw Freddie walking over to Ella, holding a steaming bowl of soup.
It was chicken soup.
He was worried Ella would get chilled standing by the window, so he personally cooked chicken soup for her.
And me? His wife, pregnant with his child, was left kneeling in the freezing rain, bleeding out, my life slipping away.
His tenderness and care never belonged to me.
Not a single bit. Not even a drop.
My whole world plunged into darkness.
*****
I woke up to the overwhelming smell of disinfectant. The first thing that hit me was the bleak white ceiling above.
I tried moving my fingers, and my whole body ached like I'd been hit by a truck.
"Christine, you're awake?" A raspy, elderly voice came from beside me.
I turned my head and saw my dad, Bennett Banks.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face drawn and haggard, like he'd aged ten years overnight.
Standing next to him was my brother, Will Banks.
Will, who was usually cynical and irreverent, now looked dark and seething with anger.
"Dad, Will," I croaked.
My throat felt like sandpaper.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You're in the hospital," Dad said.
He took my hand, his eyes welling up with tears.
"Christine, my sweet girl, it's all my fault," he said, voice trembling.
"If I hadn't made you marry that jerk Freddie, you wouldn't be suffering like this."
When I saw Dad so full of guilt, a wave of sadness washed over me.
I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but honestly, it looked worse than if I'd just burst into tears.
"Dad, this isn't on you," I said quietly. "I chose this path myself."
Yeah, this was my own decision.
Back then, I fell for Freddie the moment I saw him. I was dead set on marrying him.