Chapter 2

I stared at the dozens of angry calls from my wife, Chloe Thompson.

I’d just snapped at Dylan, the man she truly loved, and she immediately jumped to his defense, practically demanding I get on my knees and apologize.

Anyone who didn’t know us would have thought Dylan was her husband.

The screen went dark again. Perhaps her patience had run out; the frantic ringing stopped. Instead, a few SnapChat messages popped up.

They were from Chloe:

"Ryan, apologize to Dylan right now. I promise you, I'll take you on vacation when I get back."

"Haven’t you always wanted to see the Northern Lights? We can go to Fairbanks and see them."

A bitter laugh escaped me. Fairbanks, Alaska, the exact place she was supposedly going on her "business trip." Did she have to take Dylan to every single place I ever dreamed of?

I didn’t want to deal with it and was about to turn off my phone when another message from Dylan appeared.

It was a family photo. Even without zooming in, I could clearly make out Chloe’s slender figure.

"Ryan, I honestly can't believe it. You know your wife has a whole other family, and you've tolerated it for years. How can you stand it? You must have been a spineless coward in your past life."

"Given your years of patience, I’ll tell you one more thing: about Chloe’s hospitalization abroad three years ago."

"She told you she had uterine fibroids and needed foreign medical treatment, but that was a lie. I came up with that excuse for her. I just never thought you’d believe it so easily, or that you’d even thoughtfully give her your life savings."

"Actually, she went abroad that year to give birth to my children. I wanted her to have them in a local hospital, but she insisted on flying overseas, considering you…"

I didn’t read the rest of the lengthy text. I had no desire to.

Three years into our marriage, all my friends were raising families, and I envied them deeply. I went back to Chloe and told her I wanted a child, but she said her career was taking off, and a baby would only be a burden.

Two more years passed. Just when I finally got her to agree, she broke down in tears, telling me she had uterine fibroids and had already contacted a doctor abroad for a minor surgery that would make her healthy again.

That trip lasted three years.

When she finally returned, she told me, with red eyes, that the surgery had gone wrong, and she could never have children.

I still remember her sobbing uncontrollably that day: "Ryan, I’m so sorry. I made you wait all these years, and I still couldn't fulfill your dream of becoming a father."

Looking at her swollen, red eyes, my heart ached as I said, "It's okay, Chloe. As long as you’re healthy, it’s fine if things stay this way."

I thought Chloe and I would adopt a child and live out our lives together.

But then, Dylan, her true love, suddenly sent me a pregnancy confirmation. It boldly displayed my wife, Chloe Thompson’s, name.

I thought it was a prank, one of Dylan’s tricks to mess with me, and I dismissed it several times.

Deep down, I still believed Chloe’s heart belonged only to me.

It wasn't until I received another photo from Dylan, showing children strikingly similar to Chloe, that I had no choice but to believe. That pregnancy confirmation was real. She had indeed given birth to Dylan’s children behind my back, twins no less.

She even used her health as an excuse to deceive me, all to keep me from suspecting.

The thought sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my heart.

The excruciating pain in my palm brought me back to reality. I angrily blocked and deleted Dylan from SnapChat.

A moment later, Mr. Henderson, our butler, came over, holding a gift box.

"Master Ryan, this is a birthday present from Miss Chloe."

With that, Mr. Henderson opened the box. Inside was an exquisite watch. Its design clearly indicated it was custom-made.

My heart sank at the butler's words.

Staring at the expensive watch, I suddenly remembered Chloe’s promise years ago that she would spend every one of my birthdays with me, wholeheartedly. Ever since Dylan reappeared, her promises had become empty words.

Whether she was with me or not, she always prepared a gift for me every year.

However, this was the fourth time she'd given me this exact watch.

Yet, the gifts she gave Dylan were always new and unique, each one clearly chosen with more care than this watch.

I snapped a few pictures of the watch and casually listed it on eBay, setting the starting bid at $10.

Mr. Henderson, seeing my slight smile, assumed I was chatting with Chloe and said contentedly, "Seeing you two so happy together, I can rest easy."

I didn’t reply. After a few more polite words, the butler left.

Just as I was about to head upstairs, my phone buzzed with an update on the divorce application I’d submitted earlier. The papers would be finalized in three days.

I gripped my phone, my eyes darkening. It was truly time for this marriage, steeped in lies, to end.