Chapter 2

The next day, I waited for him at the hospital all morning. He never showed up.

Somewhere in that long, silent wait, it hit me—he had always been like this. Breaking promises came as easily to him as breathing.

I'd gone so long without expecting anything from him that I'd forgotten what that even felt like.

With a sigh, I stood up and decided to head home and treat myself to a good meal.

That was when a familiar voice sounded behind me. "Oh, you're still here."

Edward stood tall and composed, but there was a weariness in his sharp, deep-set eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "Go get your checkup already."

Without waiting for him to argue, I pushed him toward the examination room.

I'd picked a private hospital and made sure the department name read Medical Checkup Center. He'd never suspect anything.

When the tests were done, Edward rubbed his temples tiredly and grabbed my arm, ready to leave. "Let's go home," he said.

Home? Why?

He sounded so matter-of-fact. "Didn't you say you wanted another baby?"

Another baby, my ass. I only said that to trick him into coming for a checkup.

Who knew what kind of diseases he was carrying around?

Forcing a smile, I waved him off. "Oh, I had my own checkup this morning. The doctor said my body's not in great shape, so maybe we should drop the idea."

Something in my words must've hit a nerve, and his face twisted with irritation. "It's been years already. Haven't you had enough? The doctor said you could still conceive if you took care of yourself. How long are you going to keep using this to manipulate me?"

I froze.

Excuse me? Seriously?

He looked like a rooster with its feathers ruffled—puffed up, flapping, and trying desperately to assert dominance.

His voice was so loud that patients and their families turned to stare.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

Then, without another glance, he stormed off, tossing one last line over his shoulder. "When you finally come to your senses, you can come find me."

He was still yelling as he walked away. Even a few elderly women in the hallway turned sympathetic eyes toward me, whispering among themselves, "When a man's that useless, it always ends in domestic violence. Poor girl."

I bowed my head and muttered, "I don't even know him, really."

One of them nodded, expression soft and full of understanding—like she'd seen this story a hundred times before.

"I really don't know him," I sighed.

The test results came out the next day. The doctor didn't call Edward; she called me.

"Congratulations," the doctor said cheerfully. "You're about to be free."

I was so hyped I could've done a victory somersault. The person on the other end just laughed, "We should totally meet up and celebrate."

Claire Bennett, the director of that private hospital, couldn't help clicking her tongue when she showed me the report. "Honestly, I've never seen a body in such shambles.

"With the way he drinks and parties, even the Grim Reaper would compliment his endurance."

She tapped the paper and added matter-of-factly, "If he keeps this up, he probably won't last a year."

Perfect. I might lose my beloved husband, but in exchange, I'd gain a fortune.

To make sure he didn't get treatment in time, I quickly asked, "So, when will the symptoms start showing? Will he notice and get another checkup?"

Claire thought for a moment. "He's been taking painkillers for his stomach issues, right? That'll mask it for a while. He might not notice immediately."

Then she added, almost offhandedly, "But he probably already knows about his kidney deficiency; he's been taking supplements for that."

Instantly, my mind painted a vivid picture of him in bed, face dark as thunder while struggling with his little performance issues, and I burst out laughing. Claire joined in until neither of us could catch our breath.

Just to be safe, I called Edward's family doctor and told him to prescribe extra painkillers—make sure Edward carried them everywhere.

I wasn't expecting what came next. Edward texted me. [Stop playing hard to get. I forgive you. You just want a baby, right? I can come home now and make that happen.]

I rolled my eyes. Claire leaned over to peek at my screen and instantly looked disgusted. "Who does he think he is? God's gift to women? What a pompous jerk."

We spent a good while badmouthing him until Claire suddenly went quiet, her expression uneasy.

I couldn't help asking, "What's up?"

She hesitated, then said, "I watched the hospital's security footage."

The moment she said that, I knew what she was referring to—she'd overheard what Edward and I said in the hallway.

Her face softened with guilt. "I'm sorry, Emily. About your miscarriage back then, I played a part in that. I didn't know they'd told Edward. If I'd known, I never would've—"

I forced a light laugh. "Hey, don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault—it was his. He's the one who abandoned me, not you. You don't owe me an apology."

Even the innocent bystander was falling over herself to apologize, but the one who actually screwed things up just kept accusing me of throwing a tantrum.

Lately, Chloe had been messaging me more and more.

She'd started seeing some college guy and kept coming to me for advice.

"Emily," she asked one night, "how did you and Mr. Rivers even meet? You two just don't seem like you come from the same world."

We didn't.

I came from nothing. He was born with a silver spoon—hell, a platinum one.

"We met in the student union back in college," I said. "He made a bet with his friends that he could get my number. One thing led to another, and we ended up married."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. That's like something out of a drama series."

Yeah. A drama, all right—a bad one. I fell for him like a fool. We got married in a blur. I lost sleep for years over him and Claire. Then, when I finally stopped caring, he went right back to drinking, gambling, and chasing skirts.

The only silver lining? He was dying.

According to Claire, he'd been visiting hospitals for pain meds—still out there womanizing like a heat-crazed animal.

"Oh, and speaking of," Chloe added, "Mr. Rivers has a new mistress. A famous actress. Their scandal are all over the place—her movie sales are skyrocketing thanks to him."

I said nothing.

"And his reputation's gotten so bad that it's affecting the company's stock. My dad said their firm's not renewing their partnership next quarter," she added.

I could've cared less about the gossip, but that last part—now that got my attention.

"Wait," I cut in. "If they drop the deal, the company's market value will fall, right? What about the shares?"

Being trapped at home for years had left me out of the loop; gossip from Chloe was my only source of intel these days.

She nodded. "Probably. But it won't crash or anything. Still, Emily, maybe it's time to file for divorce. You deserve better."

Divorce?

Maybe once, I would've considered it. Now? Not a chance.

After learning the full extent of his dirty history, Chloe completely sobered up. She'd once been hung up on him, too—but now she could list eight hundred of his flaws without repeating herself once.

"But his new mistress?" she continued. "She's no pushover. Word is, a paparazzo caught them at a gynecology clinic together. The story got pulled fast, though—Edward must've paid to bury it. You think she's pregnant?"

That made me pause. Edward always handled his mistresses with precision—none of them had ever ended up pregnant.

When Chloe said it, I didn't think much of it. I figured maybe the scumbag had spread an infection or something, and the poor woman was getting treated.

I couldn't have been more wrong. She really was pregnant.