After I Freed My Husband for the Fake Heiress, His Whole Family Begged Me Back

### Chapter 2

I had just opened my mouth to ask about Melanie and the so-called kidney donation when the phone at his hip started ringing.

He glanced at the screen, and a smile pulled at his mouth before he could stop it.

I caught the contact name: "Silly Girl."

Melanie. The woman who stole twenty years of my life. From the moment I was brought home, she had been quietly tormenting me.

And now she had killed my child.

There was a time when Cyril knew every filthy thing she'd done to me, a time he couldn't stand her.

And somewhere along the way, she'd become his "silly girl."

It was almost funny enough to make me sick.

Her voice leaked out of the phone, sticky-sweet and cloying. "Cyril, my custom gown came in. Come with me for the fitting. The wedding's in five days. We can't afford to fall behind on anything."

"Sure, I'll be right there." He was already moving, tossing the excuse over his shoulder without looking. "Something urgent at the office. I have to go."

"Cyril."

I stopped him. My voice came out hard as iron. "Let's get a divorce."

His steps halted. His back went stiff for a second, and then he turned, slowly.

Against my calm gaze, his brow drew tighter and tighter, until it twisted into pure impatience.

"How long are you going to keep making a scene? I've told you, Melanie didn't do it on purpose."

"She had a high fever that day. She was out of it and grabbed the wrong medicine. No one blames herself more than she does. Can't you just be the bigger person?"

The bigger person.

I looked at him, and then I started to laugh, laughing until my whole body shook.

When I lay collapsed in a pool of blood, miscarrying, all he cared about was whether I had frightened her.

When they took my womb, when I lost the right to ever be a mother, he was in my bed working hard to "comfort" the mother of his child.

And now he wanted me to be the bigger person.

I stared into his eyes, searching for one flicker of guilt, one trace of love.

He studied my face too, hunting for the usual collapse, the crying, the hysterics.

But there was nothing in my eyes except cold, still water. Not even anger.

He sighed, came over, pulled me into his arms, and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

"I know losing the baby hurts you. I'll make it up to you."

"Anything you want. But not a divorce."

No.

Cyril, I can.

I'm grateful for that fake marriage license. It means I can walk out whenever I please.

But he was in a rush to go meet Melanie, and he didn't take the word divorce seriously at all. He turned and hurried off.

I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, turned, and opened the very back of the closet.

I drew out a yellowed agreement.

In five days, at their wedding, I would give him a gift he would remember for the rest of his life.

I woke the next morning to an empty bed beside me.

I was at the counter making coffee when one of Cyril's men walked in.

"Madam, flowers from Mr. Weiss."

He set 999 roses and an elegant food box in front of me, his face full of envy.

"Mr. Weiss really cares about you. He had a Michelin chef prepare a prenatal breakfast specially for you."

I looked at that breakfast, dripping with irony, and at the roses Melanie loved and I had always hated, and my heart felt like it was being scorched.

"Throw them out. I don't need them." I looked away, my voice flat.

In the six months I was pregnant, Cyril never once cared whether I had eaten, let alone arranged a special breakfast for me.

"Are you sure, Madam?"

While he hesitated, Melanie came out of the second-floor guest room.

"Oh, those are from Cyril. He says for the baby's health, he'll have a special breakfast made for me every day."

She came quickly down the stairs, scooped up the food box with delight, and let her eyes slide mockingly over my stomach.

"You'll never need anything for a pregnancy again, sis. Such a shame."

After the man left, I looked at her smiling eyes, baffled.

"Melanie, why are you doing this to me?"

"Whose fault is it that you came back to fight me for it all? That wealth, that life, it was always supposed to be mine."

"Cyril included. Just because you're the Hensons' real daughter, the second you showed up, his engagement got handed to you instead of me. By what right?"

My whole body was shaking. I screamed at her.

"Did I cause any of this? I never wanted to fight you for a single thing!"

The smile at the corner of her mouth turned so vicious it was cold. "So what? I'm going to take everything you have. Your husband, your name, and even your womb."

I clenched my teeth, knotted my fists, and growled low. "Then there's something you forgot. The one who saved Cyril was me, not you — so aren't you afraid of the day I tell them all the truth?"