Chapter 1

While I was bleeding out on the delivery table, Julian was screwing another woman.

He thought I was stupid. He thought he had me completely under his control.

Maybe he was just too confident in his Oscar-winning acting skills.

He let his mother, Eleanor, walk all over me while pretending to be the doting husband, showering me with fake affection.

He only regretted it when he lost everything.

But I’ve finally woken up. I don't want to be the sweet, stupid wife anymore. I'm going to be his worst nightmare.

Right before I was wheeled into the OR, I finally got through to Julian.

Over the line, I heard a woman’s breathless, needy moan.

"Julian... slow down... you touched your phone..."

"Forget the phone, babe. Let’s keep going..."

Then came the sound of wet, messy kisses and the tearing of clothes.

Neither of them cared who was calling, or why.

My husband, the famous Hollywood star who told me he was stuck on set overnight, was currently in another woman's bed.

I recognized the voice. It was Serena, his co-star in his new blockbuster movie.

They threw morals out the window, completely lost in each other.

I could feel the blood slowly draining from my body.

I was drenched in sweat, my tears mixing with the cold perspiration on my face.

The noises from the phone kept playing.

But the white-hot pain, like my bones were being crushed, made it impossible to think.

I only heard the doctor scream, "Hurry! She’s hemorrhaging!"

I was rushed into the OR.

No one was by my side. No parents, no husband. I felt completely abandoned by the world.

As the doctors frantically worked on me, the darkness finally swallowed me whole.

Right before I lost consciousness, a single thought crystallized in my mind: I had to leave Julian.

When I finally woke up from the anesthesia, a lone nurse was changing my IV drip.

Seeing me open my eyes, she looked at me with deep pity.

"Don't worry, the baby is healthy. A very loud, cute little boy."

"But your husband's mother took the baby home. She insisted she could take better care of him."

Panic and fury instantly flooded my brain.

I screamed at the nurse, demanding to know how they could let her take my baby without my consent.

Ignoring the agonizing pain from my C-section incision, I struggled to get out of bed.

My baby—whom I had just risked my life to bring into this world—had been taken by a woman who hated my guts.

I couldn't tolerate this for even a second!

The nurse was terrified. She slammed the emergency call button and summoned the doctors.

It took four of them to pin me down and inject a sedative to finally make me stop thrashing.

But the struggle had already torn my stitches, and blood was seeping through the bandages.

Over the next few days, despite my constant screaming and fighting, the hospital finally let me sign the AMA forms on the seventh day.

As they discharged me, they kept warning me that they wouldn't be liable if anything happened to my torn stitches.

I hated them, but to get my baby back, I didn't waste any time arguing.