Chapter 2

Spencer said, "I'll get three experienced nannies to take care of you. Just tell me what you want—even if you ask for the stars, I'll do my best to bring them down for you.

"I'm also gonna get the baby a big, fancy lucky charm. Our baby will definitely be as beautiful as you and as smart as me."

Watching Spencer's overflowing joy—he looked like he was itching to tell the whole world he was about to be a dad—just made my blood turn to ice.

He stole my heart for Kiara, and now he expected me to bear his child?

The next day, Spencer bought a luxury house for me, claiming it was to start things off on a lucky note.

All my food, clothing, and daily necessities were replaced with the most expensive ones.

But I knew deep down, every so-called gift came with strings attached, and the real price was lurking beneath the surface.

All of this was paid for with the heart he ripped out of my chest.

While Spencer was in the shower, I quietly unlocked his phone.

We had been married for three years, and I had never once checked his phone—not even though his passcode was my birthday.

Inside his phone's notes app, he had meticulously documented everything about Kiara—nothing escaped his attention.

Kiara's favorite things, her period calendar, every word she had ever said, and all those tiny moments between them.

There was even a whole section dedicated to her heart transplant—her treatment plans, her medication habits, her recovery timeline, etc.

It was all there, down to the last trivial detail.

Everyone said Spencer was so good to me.

But in reality, all I got were words and a couple of nannies and a driver to look after me—that was it.

By accident, I scrolled to the very last page of his notes. There were only two sentences there.

It read, [Celeste is pregnant. It's only now that I realize what I truly want is to have a child with Celeste, to make our family feel whole.]

My hands trembled as I shut down that bogus heartfelt message, disgusted by his hypocrisy.

I snapped photos of all the evidence on his phone about how he had hired someone to run me over, then quietly put his phone back where I found it.

Spencer came out of the shower, a smile playing on his lips.

He said, "I'll drive you to your prenatal checkup today, and from now on, you won't ever have to go to the hospital by yourself again."

I kept quiet, watching as he picked up his phone almost out of habit.

He glanced at the screen, hesitated for a split second, then looked at me, wearing that familiar apologetic smile.

"Sorry, there's a situation at work. I need to deal with it first," he said.

He continued, "But I'll head over to the hospital as soon as I'm done, I promise. Wait for me, alright?"

I smiled bitterly at myself. I had just seen the new message from Kiara in his phone: [Spencer, today marks ten years since we met. Like always, you owe me dinner.]

I only knew that couples have wedding anniversaries. I never knew that two unrelated people would celebrate the anniversary of when they met.

And it seemed they celebrated it together every single year.

Last year on this exact day, my artificial heart had a rejection episode. I ended up in the ICU fighting for my life.

The year before that, I came down with a bad cold that turned into heart complications—I collapsed at home, and if the maid hadn't found me, I wouldn't have made it to the hospital in time.

Funny coincidence, every year on the day of their "meeting anniversary," my health took a drastic turn for the worse.

Not once did Spencer stay with me. Every time he was out celebrating with Kiara, I was left alone in the middle of a crisis.

"Spencer, go take care of your work. Really, don't worry about me," I said, my tone flat.

But inside, I had already made my decision. This child? I wasn't going to have it. Not a chance.

Spencer was caught off guard by how calmly I agreed. For a moment, he paused, uncertainty flickering across his face.

But in the end, he murmured in a low voice, "I'll come find you at the hospital as soon as I can."