Chapter 2

The woman's name was Vanessa.

She walked in with the little girl, looking as comfortable as if she owned the place.

The girl threw herself against Ethan's legs, crying out for her daddy. Ethan bent down and scooped her up, his movements so practiced it was clearly not his first time.

Vanessa glanced at me, her eyes lingering for barely two seconds before turning back to Ethan.

"Babe, didn't she say she was moving out this week?"

I sat on the sofa, wearing loungewear I bought three years ago, my hair tossed into a messy bun.

Compared to this woman who screamed luxury from head to toe, I looked like the intruder in my own home.

Ethan held the child, looking at neither me nor Vanessa. He lowered his head and said to the girl, "Lily, go back with Mommy first."

"No! I want Daddy to read me a bedtime story!"

"Daddy will visit you tomorrow."

The little girl pouted and began to cry. Ethan coaxed her with a few soft words before handing her over to Vanessa.

Vanessa took the child, gave me a cold look, said nothing, and turned to leave.

Once the door clicked shut, the living room fell into a heavy silence.

Ethan sat down across from me, crossing his hands over his knees, adopting his usual business negotiation posture.

"Nora, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"About a divorce."

He slid a folder across the table.

I looked down at the cover: *Divorce Agreement*.

"Look over the terms. If you have any objections, we can negotiate."

I flipped it open.

The first page detailed the division of assets.

Real Estate: The Long Island estate purchased after our marriage would go to Ethan. The Manhattan apartment under his name before our marriage would also remain his.

All I would get was a two-bedroom apartment in the suburbs, worth barely a fraction of our estate.

Child Custody: Full custody of our son, Leo, would go to Ethan. I would get visitation once a week, for no more than four hours.

Spousal Support: A one-time lump sum of fifty thousand dollars.

I read two pages and shut the folder.

"These are your terms?"

"They are highly reasonable. I bought the house, I started the company, and Leo has been raised by his nanny—who is Vanessa's mother. You don't have a stable job or income. No court would grant you primary custody anyway."

"Ethan, I married you the year after I graduated with my master's degree. Your company had only five people back then. I was the one who helped you build it from the ground up."

"And now you're telling me the company is yours alone?"

"The legal representative is me, and the sole shareholder is me. Do you have any legal right to it on paper?"

I stared at him for five long seconds.

Six years of marriage. It took him four years to go from having nothing to being worth hundreds of millions.

And it took me four years to go from his business partner to his unpaid maid.

"I'm not signing this."

"Suit yourself. But if we go to court, the terms will only be worse for you."

He stood up, walked into his study, and locked the door behind him.

I sat in the living room, staring at the divorce papers on the coffee table.

From upstairs, my son's crying drifted down.

He was two and a half, and he still wanted his mommy every night.

I walked upstairs and pushed open the nursery door.

My son was climbing up from his crib, his tiny hands gripping the railing, his face flushed red as he mumbled, "Mommy, Mommy..."

I picked him up, and he immediately buried his face in my neck, his sobbing slowly quieting down.

His little body shivered slightly, like a frightened little animal.

"Ssh, Leo is okay. Mommy's here."

I patted his back, pacing around the room.

The nursery was beautifully decorated. An imported crib, an air purifier that kept the temperature and humidity perfect, and piles of designer toys in the corner.

All of these were items Clara had put on a list, Ethan had approved, and I had personally ordered and set up.

The things were all here, but who was actually using them?

My son stopped crying, his little hands gripping my collar tightly, refusing to let go.

I sat in the rocking chair by the window, swaying gently, but my mind couldn't stop thinking about that young woman.