Losing Her was the Only Way to Find Me Again

In the office, my childhood buddy held the paternity test results. Worry was etched all over his face as he looked at me.

"Duncan, perhaps… you shouldn't look at this?" he suggested, almost hesitantly.

But deep down, I already knew what was coming, so I snatched both reports and compared them side by side.

The first one read: [0.00000001% chance of a biological relationship]

The second report: [99.99%]

It hit me like a ton of bricks—Ollie was Edmund's kid.

Looking at the report confirming I had no biological tie to the child I treated as my son felt like my heart was getting ripped right out of my chest.

I thought I was ready for this, but seeing it laid out like that made me tremble.

Honestly, I don't even recall how I made it home.

By the time I came to my senses, I found the floor littered with cigarette butts.

Ophelia walked in, coming back for some files, and her frown deepened at the sight.

"Ollie's still here. Don't smoke in the house," she scolded.

Seeing me in a daze, she shifted her tone, saying, "I've thought about it. Yesterday was my fault. I shouldn't have hit you."

"To make it up to you," she added, "I'll stay home tonight."

"Here, I bought you an apology gift," she offered, tossing a box at me.

I opened it up and found a tie clip, identical to the one Edmund had worn this morning.

A cheap freebie from when she picked up his shirt, I bet.

At that realization, bitterness surged through me.

Was this all I was worth to her?

Thinking about the damn reports made my hands shake again.

Once I got my breathing under control, I finally managed to spit out the words that had been clawing at my throat.

"Ophelia, let's get a divorce."

Her head snapped up, and her cold facade cracked. For a second, I could see her poised figure tremble.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" she blurted out. "You accepted my apology, and now you're talking about divorce?"

But just like that, she regained her composure, the arrogance creeping back in.

"Oh, is this your way of playing hard to get? Trying to make me chase after you?"

"I told you I'd stay home tonight to make things right."

"If that's not enough for you, stop bugging me. I've got work to do."

She tossed her bag aside, plopped down on the couch, and flipped open her laptop, burying herself in work.

The dim glow from the screen of the device cast a cold light on her face, making her look distant and detached—like snow on a mountain, untouchable.

For a moment, I found myself lost in thought, drifting back to our university days.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on Ophelia. It was a love at first sight.

She was a standout in the finance program, and I was a rising entrepreneur already running my business.

To win her over, I went all out, even chartering a plane to take her to meet the most prominent financial experts.

I poured all the resources I had into helping her chase her entrepreneurial dreams.

But right before our wedding, she told me she didn't want kids, which meant no intimacy for us.

Respecting her wishes, I held back for two years, leaving our bedroom cold and empty.

Then last year, she suddenly got passionate. She was crawling into bed with me at night, demanding my attention like I was her lifeline.

I was thrilled, thinking that after all these years, my devotion to her had finally touched her.

I doted on her even more, treating her like a queen.

Not long after, she dropped the news—she was pregnant.

I was over the moon and announced it to everyone that very night.

But looking back now, her sudden affection was just a ploy to legitimize the child she was carrying back then.

To her, I was nothing more than a walking bank account, and even talking to me was a favor.

Staring at the woman I once loved with all my heart, a wave of bitterness crashed over me.

Was this really the reward for all those years of my loyalty?