The night my husband brought home the one he truly loved— Anna— I got everything ready for them. He cut ties with his family for Anna，I fixed what he broke. When he finally married her, I was already gone from his life. Later he searched everywhere for me. “Stop this, I was wrong.” I pushed him away coldly:” You’ve got it wrong, Mr. Wilson. I’m the one who was wrong. Three years ago, I came out to you for a heart— but the doctor told me your heart wasn’t from that man.” That night, Andrew drove 200 miles like a madman— chasing after the wife he’d lost. Andrew stumbled in past midnight, reeking of booze. I moved to steady him. Then I saw her—Anna trailing behind. “Sorry, ” she smirked. “He insisted I help him home.” My hand froze mid-air. A fresh hickey bloomed on his throat—right over the Adam’s apple. The exact shade of Anna’s lipstick. I backed away silently. Suddenly Andrew blinked awake. His eyes scraped over me. “Get me water.” His voice impatient, as if ordering a servant. I stood rooted, my unspoken question hung in the air: “What am I to you after three years?” Tension crackled. Anna shifted. “Let me—” Andrew yanked her against his chest. “Why be nice? If not for her, you’d rule this house.” He shoved past me, dragging her toward our bedroom. Correction: his and Anna’s playground. Three years ago, when Andrew and Anna were engaged, I did everything in my power to marry him. Since then, Andrew has never given me a kind look. Three years of servitude: Bringing water when he’s drunk, delivery midnight meals to his office, even arranging stuff for their dates. When I was stunned, ambiguous sounds came from the master bedroom. Accompanying them, there was also the thumping of the bed. Anna’s voice’s was loud, like silent provocation. A feeling of embarrasment spread from the bottom of my heart. I could do nothing but tighty cover my ears. Until daybreak, his text blazed: “Make breakfast. Anna wants your shrimp congee.” Before dawn broke, I finished cooking the porridge. Then I found Andrew had walked in at some unknown time. His figure was tall and slender, silhouetted against the light leaking through the door. I had no idea how long he had been staring at me. When our eyes met, Andrew snapped impatiently:”Did you mean to wake Anna on purpose? Louise, I have no feelings for you. How many more times will you use these tricks?” Before I could speak, Anna came out of the room, hooked her arm around Andrew, and gave him a morning kiss. A possessive one. Her eyes swept over me, fake surprise plastered on her face. “Oops, Louise, didn’t see you there.” Toward Anna’s little tricks, I was long unsurprised. But seeing the bite marks over Andrew’s heart, my heart sank without warning. In the past, that heart of Andrew’s had also beat for me. But now, it didn’t belong to me anymore. It was okay. As long as it was still by my side. “Crying over what? You think this way I’ll feel pain for you?” Until Andrew snorted coldly, I realized I was already tear-streaked staring at his heart’s position. I turned around helplessly; in my panic, a stack of tissues got thrown into my arms. “Louise, initially it was you who ruined me and Anna first, what right do you have to feel wrong?” Andrew abruptly grabbed my arm, his cold fierce eyes blazing undisguised disgust as they locked onto me. Suddenly pulled by him, I felt dizzy immediately, my vision began spinning without warning, blurring the world around me. My legs gave way and I actually fell straight toward him in a helpless, headlong collapse against his chest. “Hey, stop faking it！” “Louise? Wake up?” “Louise!” Andrew lifted me without a word, until Anna’s shout came from behind, “Andrew, tonight the gathering…” “Go without me.” As she watched Andrew striding away, his figure receding with my body cradled in his arms, Anna’s face abruptly darkened with a mixture of rage and dismay.
I never expected to be pregnant now. Even less expected, Andrew completely didn’t remember having me recently. “Sign the divorce papers if you want that bastard.” Rooted to the spot as if paralyzed, I stood frozn for what felt like an eternity, a strangled sound catching in my throat, when speech finally came, “Andrew, this is truly your child. Try to remember—Months ago, when you drank—” “Enough!” He interrupted me ruthlessly. “I don’t care if I was blind drunk or stone sober—my heart belongs only and forever to Anna! “Louise, drop these disgusting games. Did you really think trapping me with another man’s baby would keep you here? If not your parents forcing me to mary you with their power, do you think I’d spare you a glance?” With that final blow, Andrew denied me even a sliver of rebuttal. Before I could draw another breath, the rustle of paper sliced through the silence—then the cold sting of divorce papers struck my cheek. From the day I married him, I knew he’d never love me. But it was fine. As long as I could guard that heart, I was satisfied. Three years ago, I’d forced him to marry me. With my family’s power, with money. But the truth was: Edward’s heart beat in his chest. My Edward. The one who loved me to death—literally. In his last moments, holding me, he whispered: “Even gone, my heart will beat for you.” So I married Andrew without hesitation. Because he was Edward’s donor. But now—… my palm pressed over my lower belly. Three months ago. Edward’s death day. I sat at his grave. Stone cold beneath me. Wind whispering. One full day. One full night. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Then Andrew came for me. He shoved me against the wall, howling:” Louise! You ignore my calls! My texts!” Drunk. Wild. Eyes blazing—like Edward at eighteen. My hand touched his face, trembling. “I’ve missed you so much.” The man froze for a second. Then— He carried me to the car. Rain lashed against the car windows as I let myself drown in the moment. Just let me… get close. Near the heart, his heart, thumping clearly even through the rain. One more time. That was all. One last time. The sharp clack of heels snapped me back to reality. Anna stormed in, eyes blazing. “You! Playing the cool girl while scheming to trap him with a baby? “Did you think knocking me off his radar would let you steamroll over me? “Her voice high and shrill, “Andrew’s lawyer drafted divorce papers weeks ago! His family sees me as his real wife!” Her loud and harsh voice grated on my nerves, making me impatient. “If that’s the case,” I snapped, “why hasn’t he married you yet?” “You—!” She choked back, speechless for a moment. “Don’t push me! You think forcing that sham wedding means anything? Face it—you’re a nobody in that house! His grandma’s birthday gala tonight? He’s taking ME.” She flung a gold card onto the seat. “Five million dollars. Sign. Or you and that bastard disappear forever.” The door slammed. I let out a slow breath. They really were two of a kind, him and her. Back when Andrew and I married in secret, he was still under my parents’ thumb. But things had changed. Over the years, he’d grown stronger, bolder. Now he thought he’d slipped their control. What they all seemed to forget was this: I was the mastermind behind the empire. Five million dollars. Probably the last coin in Anna’s purse. Andrew and I had a secret marriage. Publicly, he kept playing the rich playboy, swarmed by flocks of pretty women. The Wilsons hated me and I stayed scarce at his events. But today was different. At the old lady’s birthday banquet, when I showed up draped in crimson, not just the Wilsons froze—Andrew too lost his grip. Step by step, I walked the red carpet. Andrew’s icy eyes flashed hot, then froze dead cold. He strode over, yanked my wrist:”Grandma’s birthday is no place for you to crash this party.” The crowd buzzed:”Rumors said Andrew kept a woman hidden—her?” “That secret marriage gossip… real after all?” “Impossible! Only Anna’s by his side! Gatecrasher here for drama!” Footsteps echoed. Heads turned. Then— silence. The old lady rolled out in her wheelchair. “I invited Louise.” “Grandma?” Andrew choked. Her eyes, cold and ancient, locked on him. “Louise carries the Wilson heir. My birthday—shouldn’t she celebrate?” The hall exploded. Anna’s face curdled like spoiled milk. By Andrew’s side for years—never named, never claimed. Andrew exploded: “Louise! Your cheap trick? Sick! Even using Grandma, you’ll never get my heart!” I breathed smoothly. Steadily. Knew he’d say that. Knew he’d choose her. My pressed down the dumb ache beneath my ribs. Then I moved, pulling a piece of paper from my bag. “Grandma promised: the child stays, being the grandchild to the Wilsons.” Andrew froze. Confusion ripped across his face. “I know you love Anna. After three years… I’m tired. I’ll sign the divorce papers—now—on one condition. “You leave this house with NOTHING.” White. Sheet-white. Andrew’s face drained of blood. Anna swayed, shrill: “How dare you?!” “Because I documented every cheat of his. Every lie. Because I bought the empire.” Years of ignoring business for Anna— Meetings skipped. Deals collapsed. Empire crumbling… Only I could save it. Grandma’s eyes met mine. No words needed. We both knew: Useless heir? Or legacy? She chose Wilson blood. She’d sent for me yesterday. We had a deal. “Louise! You viper!” Andrew spat. I just smiled lightly, concealing the tears in my eyes. “You claim to love Anna… yet won’t be poor for her?” I clapped. An assistant thrust a wedding ring at him. “It was from Andrew’s family when we got married. Never worn it. Put it on Anna now—before everyone—and I’ll vanish forever.” Exactly as he gave me a choice then, I gave him one now. The hall swallowed its own breath. Tense. Waiting. Andrew stood paralyzed. Time stretched. Anna’s eyes flickered with doubt, then panic. “Andrew? Don’t you want us? Eight years I’ve waited… If it’s money… I have savings. We… we can start from zero…” Her voice wavered. Weak. “Waiting, Mr. Wilson?” I let out a short, mocking laugh. “Can’t it be that you actually… want me?” “Enough!” He grabbed the ring and rammed it onto Anna’s finger. And my pen shredded the divorce papers. Anna’s chin lifted and triumph flushed her cheeks. I turned away— Loved Edward? Yes. Wanted to guard his heart? Yes. But compared to a child bonded to my blood, for the company of my rest years, I would to choose to let go of Andrew— without a blink. Yesterday after Anna came, the phone rang: “Louise, we regret to inform you—three years ago, your boyfriend Edward’s donated heart… was misidentified. It never went to Andrew Wilson.” So—keep the child. Cut the man. My heels hammered the marble. Almost at the doors, his voice ripped through silence: “LOUISE! I REGRET THIS!”
Andrew suddenly ripped the divorce papers apart. The sound tore through the room. Shreds flew, with a few white flakes landing on Anna’s face. “Vicious move!” he spat, voice thick with anger. “You knew I’d die for Anna! Knew it! Yet forced this choice on me! Think I’d let you win? “Divorce is DEAD! Bury that hope!” Anna stood frozen, pale. Trembling, she finally found her voice: “Andrew, you… you… promised me forever.” He gripped her shoulders: “Anna, listen, I love you— more than anything. But how? How can I give you a future with empty hands?” “I can work! I’ve got savings— my own money! We can start over—” “No! I won’t let you suffer! Not like that. I won’t see you struggle.” He cut her off. But his eyes dodged hers, looking everywhere but at her hurt face. “Why should Louise steal what’s yours? She’s playing head games, trying to trick us— to get—” I almost laughed out loud. The sheer cowardice of it. Hiding behind money, calling it love. “Andrew,” I said, “You stand there and claim to love her deeply, yet… you fear building a life with her from scratch? Afraid a little hard work? Or…” I paused. “…truth is, you’d rather stay here? Stay trapped… with a woman you hate?” “Shut up!” Anna shrieked, her face flushing red with rage. “Stop poisoning us with your venom! I trust him! “I’ll wait!” Applause erupted suddenly from some corners of the room. “Brave Anna! ” Someone yelled. “Since when does real love need a piece of paper?” “True love conquers all!” Andrew seized the moment. He pulled Anna tight against him. “I’ll never fail you, darling!” Can’t save fools begging to drown. I simply turned and walked out. Three days passed. Andrew gone. No word. Anna’s social media feeds exploded. Picture after picture: sunset proposals, diamond rocks, Parisian kisses. All captioned: #TRUELOVEWINS. Probably bought bots and trended it. I didn’t pay attention. Until one midnight, my phone buzzed and lit up with eleven missed calls. All from Andrew. His voice cold and deep when I answered: “Get to the Starlight Bar. Now.” “…?” “You got 30 minutes.” “Why on earth should I wreck my sleep for you, Mr. Wilson?” “Because I’ve got new divorce terms…with lethal clauses for YOU.” The lounge door crashed open. Laughter died mid-air. “Well look—the loyal little wifey come to fetch her man!” “Missed your hubby’s attention that much?” Rich boys—Anna’s pack, Andrew’s buddies— Always blamed me for stealing Anna’s spot. Seeing Andrew silent, Anna’s die-hard simp lunged up:”MILFs are my jam! C’mere sugar!” His paw grabbed my wrist—dragging me toward couch. My kick hit something. Screech—Anna’s shriek froze the room— Red wine bled down her white dress. Andrew moved like lightning to Shield Anna and shove me down. Glass shards bit my palm. Pain came second, his slap coming first. “Apologize. NOW.” His eyes were black fire. Three years as his wife… less than spilled wine. “Let me handle her, Andrew! Hard mouth? We’ll play a game.” The simp whipped off his belt, lassshing my ankles raw. My dress tore. “Damn— married women do have a diferent weight to them!” His sandpaper fingers found my ankles, inching upward. Bile rose. “Andrew! I’m carrying your child!” His turned a stoney back. Anna’s eyes gloated: “Worth it.” Beer bottles clanked. Wolf whistles pierced. My begging turned to howls— Their laughs got louder. When my blouse tore, the man in front of me let out a cry of surprise. “Pregnant women are choice—” THUD! The simp flew like a broken toy—crashed against the glass table. Andrew hauled me up, wrapping me in his jacket. Carried me out. “Andrew…” Anna’s face bleached white. Andrew drove me all the way back to the villa. He dumped me in the bathroom. Feral. Tore my clothes. Scrubbed me raw with the showerhead. Every spot touched tonight was rubbed raw by him. This man, a stranger now, scarlet-rimmed eyes, anger within. But why the fury? He let them do this to me. Outside thunder cracked. Knock knock knock. Nanny’s voice shook: “Master… Miss Anna’s here.” He threw a towel at me. “Clean up. Wait for me.” First time he left Anna at the door. Rain pounded the windows. The rain outside was very loud, but the silence inside the villa enabled me to clearly hear their conversation. “Andrew, what’s wrong? Can’t let her go?” “I didn’t say that.” “You promised to marry me. Still?” “Give me time.” Anna’s voice shook: “I’m freezing… hold me?” Before, he’d have cradled her till dawn. But tonight:”Driver’s taking you home.” Anna looked like she was beside herself with anger and slammed the door hard. But this time, Andrew didn’t chase her. He stalked back into the bathroom. Hands braced on tub edges, he trapped my gaze:”Satisfied, Louise? Your vicious game worked.” I nearly choked on rage:”Your mess with Anna—my fault?” “The whole banquet knows you’re pregnant!” His reply was off the point, “Divorce now? Anna branded mistress forever! I won’t feed your scheme!” “Mr. Wilson, who shoved her into mistres’ skin? You.” “Shut it!” He yanked me from water and threw me onto bed. First time in three years, he slid in beside me. The thick reek of spirits hung in the air. When his heat pressed my spine, I jolted like shocked deer. “Hate sharing beds.” “I’m your husband. Father of that accident inside you.” “So? Need relief? Call Anna.” Something snapped. He yanked my arm and forced me to meet his eyes directly:”You schemed to marry me! Why occupy my wife’s place… Refuse the duty?!” “Duty?”I spat the word, “Anna’s serviced your ‘duty’ for years! Or…” My smile cut deep. “…suddenly fall in love with your ‘wife’?” He crushed my mouth. No kiss—a punishment. The more I fought, the deeper he invaded. Burning. Also fury. Just as breath failed— BRRRRT! BRRRRT! His ringtone shattered the haze. He killed the call—it raged back louder. Until nanny’s wail pierced the walls:”Master! Miss Anna—she’s slashed her wrists!” Anna’s fake suicide blew up online. Overnight, hashtags painted two characters: me—the :witchy ex-wife” who’d driven her to despair—and Anna, the tragic “love victim.”
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