Chapter 1

After dating in secret for eight years, I was so shocked to discover a ten-carat diamond ring and a hotel reservation my boyfriend was hiding.

I was so moved I almost cried; I thought, finally, Ross Stockdale was really going to give me a home.

But on our eighth anniversary, I saw a kissing video on Instagram from Zamora Forrer, an influencer with millions of followers.

It came with a caption. [I went abroad for eight years. You waited eight years. Finally, I’m going to marry you!]

The man in the video was Ross. His hand rested on Zamora’s waist, and he was wearing the very couple’s ring I’d bought with three months of my salary!

I stared at the screen, unable to believe it, and then I lost control and bolted out the door. I hailed a cab and raced to the hotel.

The car hadn’t even arrived when a blaring horn sounded, and suddenly, my body was thrown violently. I felt searing pain engulf every inch of me.

At the hospital, the doctor said my baby couldn’t be saved, and I needed a family member to sign the consent form. I called Ross over and over.

“Please. Please pick up…” I murmured, feeling myself going numb beneath me. I couldn’t help sobbing.

And yet, he still didn’t answer.

It wasn’t until the eighteenth call that it finally connected. In the background came Zamora’s laughter.

“Ross, is that woman calling to check up on you again?”

Ross’s voice was hoarse and lecherous when he replied, “Don’t bother with her. She’s just your stand-in, nobody but an orphan. If she leaves me, she’ll have nowhere to go; even if she knows about us, she wouldn’t make a scene.”

“She’s just like a cheap dog I raised. I can’t get rid of her no matter what. I just treat her like a free nanny who’s available to sleep with me.”

That was when my nearly two-month-old baby came out of my body as flesh and blood. I closed my eyes in despair.

They didn’t know the truth: I was the real heiress of the Forrers, the richest family in the city. Zamora was only a fake heiress taking my place!

A month earlier, my parents had tracked me down and begged me to come home and run the family business. I refused back then.

But after my surgery, I called my mother.

“Mom, I’ve thought it through. I’ll come home and take over the family business. I agree with the marriage you set up for me, but, listen, I want Zamora kicked out from the family!”

1

I thought my mother would hesitate. But to my surprise, she agreed almost immediately. “All right. I’ll handle this myself.”

Her voice was calm, but beneath that composure was anger she’d buried for years.

“If it hadn’t been for Zamora’s mother, that nanny, switching you two while I was unconscious from a difficult labor, you wouldn’t have grown up in an orphanage for more than ten years! We missed you because of her!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she went on. “I’ll make sure Zamora leaves. And Marcel, her mother—she won’t escape either. I’ll have the lawyers gather evidence and send her to prison.”

I shut my eyes, feeling a sting in my nose, “Thanks, Mom.”

Her tone softened at once. “Silly child, don’t think too much. Your birthday is coming up next week. I’ll hold a grand homecoming party for you, so everyone knows you are the real daughter of the Lumleys.”

Then she added gently, “And about your engagement, I’ve already set you up with someone.”

I replied quietly. “I’ll listen to you, Mom.”

After a few seconds of silence, I reminded her. “Don’t tell Zamora about the birthday party yet. And… about those investments I asked you to arrange before, stop them all.”

“Okay, I’ll do as you say,” she replied casually.

Not long after we hung up, a message from an unknown number popped up on my phone.

[The one who isn’t loved is the third party. Do you know? A month ago, when you were robbed abroad and called for help, Ross was in a hotel just two streets away from you. He made love with me seven times.]

I froze for a few seconds, my breath catching in my throat.

Another message came right after.

[The car accident was just a warning. If you keep clinging to him, next time, I’ll take your life.]

My fingers trembled. A chill spread through me, bone-deep and cold.

So today’s car accident… wasn’t an accident after all.

Zamora…

It turned out, she set it up!

My vision burned red as my hands clenched into fists, my knuckles whitening.

A moment later, I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I took screenshots of the texts and sent them to the assistant my mother had assigned to me, instructing her to investigate every suspicious detail about the crash.

Zamora killed my child. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it!

Once everything was arranged, I opened the Instagram video again.

The screen glowed with dim, romantic light. Ross had his arm around Zamora’s waist, lowering his head to kiss her deeply.

He lifted a champagne glass, smiling with that familiar tenderness and confidence.

And I saw it clearly—oon his finger was the ring I had saved for months to buy for him.

At that point, my eyes blurred. The image before me started to fade.

I still remembered the day I gave him that ring. His eyes had gone red as he knelt on one knee and swore, “One day, I’ll buy you one even better, even more expensive.”

But now, that “better and more expensive” ring was gleaming on another woman’s finger.

In the background of the video, their friends’ laughter echoed.

“After eight years, you two finally made it official!”

“Ross’s so devoted! Can you believe he waited eight years for Zamora?”

“That diamond ring? He had it custom-made eight years ago!”

My fingers started to shake. I had to look away and breathe between glances, or my tears would spill over completely.

Eight years…

For eight years, not a single one of his friends knew who I was.

But they all knew Zamora.

I had asked him before why he never took me to meet his friends.

He just smiled and said, “No need. They don’t really like crowds.”

Back then I foolishly believed him, thinking, ‘People nowadays are socially anxious, and not liking socializing is normal.’

But it turned out, it wasn’t that they didn’t like crowds. They just didn’t like me.

Suddenly, the hospital room door opened.

Ross stood there, holding a cake, smiling just like he used to.

“Happy anniversary, baby! I’m late. Are you mad?”

Streamers, roses, mango cake.

It was the same old routine for eight straight years.

If I hadn’t lived through everything that happened today, I might have been moved to tears just like before.

But now, all I felt was irony.

He didn’t know that I knew it—under the glow of those party lights, he had kissed another woman.

He didn’t know that because of that so-called car “accident,” I had lost our child forever.

The life that was supposed to be a surprise had become the price of his celebration with his other woman.

I swallowed the storm inside me and forced my tone to stay calm. “What are you doing here?”

“No matter how busy I am, you’re the most important to me.”

He smiled and sat by my bed, his tone gentle as always.

“I was worried you’d be upset after the accident, so I came to keep you company. This afternoon was really an accident. My phone was on silent, so I didn’t get your message. Thank God it wasn’t serious, or I really wouldn’t know what to do, babe.”

His voice was soft, his eyes full of affection that used to melt me so easily.

But now, it only pierced like a blade.

This jerk had no idea that on my eighteenth call, when he finally picked up, I’d heard his voice.

He was telling Zamora, “She’s just like a cheap dog I raised. I can’t get rid of her no matter what.”

I lowered my eyes, my throat tightening.

When I stayed silent, he followed my gaze and noticed the phone in my hand—the screen still paused on that Instagram video.

He reached over, took it, and pressed the power button.

“Stop watching.”