Chapter 1On the anniversary, I turned our bedroom into an escape room while my fiancé slept.
"Say your true love's name to get out."
I was dying to hear Dashiell—Mr. Never Say 'I Love You'—finally confess.
Instead, he woke up, checked his phone and shouted:
"My true love is Brielle."
"She's in labor—LET ME OUT!"
Brielle.
His fucking SECRETARY.
I stood frozen, remote still in my hand.
The next slide?
My 5-week ultrasound—the surprise I was going to share with him.
Turns out the man I loved TEN YEARS has been rawdogging his secretary the whole time.
His anniversary gift was secretary's bastard baby?!
Cute.
Mine? Cancel our baby—and say yes to his RIVAL'S ring.
...
After Dashiell said that, he bolted for the door.
In his rush, he knocked over a ceramic vase on the shelf.
Shards scattered everywhere.
One hit my leg, and I cried out in pain.
He didn't even turn around. Just kept sweet-talking whoever was on the phone.
That vase—we made it together.
The bottom said "Dashiell will love Isla forever."
My mind went blank.
I only snapped out of it when a shard sliced my finger.
I left everything on the floor and ran after him.
---
The second I got to the hospital, I heard Dashiell's voice.
"I'm her husband. Where do I sign?"
I froze.
Just a few hours ago, he'd promised me a huge wedding.
When he saw me, he didn't acknowledge me at all.
Not until the doctor came out.
"Mother and baby are doing great."
That's when he finally spoke to me.
"Brielle's having my kid. I can't let her be a single mom."
Sensing my anger, he said flatly.
"We've been married a year, Isla. YOU'RE the mistress."
Chapter 2
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
Ten years together—from campus to the real world.
And now I WAS the homewrecker.
No wonder last year on our anniversary, I couldn't reach Dashiell no matter how many times I called.
He eventually blocked me entirely.
He was marrying HER.
Back then, I'd stayed up all night thinking something happened to him.
I laughed and pulled off the jade bracelet he gave me.
"Since you're married, take this back."
Dashiell glanced at it briefly. "No need. I'll buy her something better."
Seeing my expression darken, he added:
"Look, Isla—just don't piss off Brielle and we can keep this going."
The man in front of me was a stranger.
Since he was married, there was nothing left to say.
"We should—" BREAK UP.
"Babe."
Brielle's weak voice cut me off.
Dashiell shoved past me and rushed into her room without hesitation.
I slammed into the wall. Pain shot through me.
Dazed, I suddenly remembered when I had appendicitis—nearly passed out.
But that night, Dashiell left me on the street because Brielle had cramps.
He went to bring her pills.
Later, right before I got discharged, he finally explained.
"She's my secretary. If she's sick, it affects the whole company."
That excuse was pathetic.
And I was even more pathetic for believing it.
A stranger saw how pale I looked.
"You okay?"
I was in too much pain to answer.
From inside the ward came Brielle's sobbing.
Then footsteps.
Dashiell pushed the stranger aside. "She's fine."
He grabbed my wrist and dragged me inside.
At her bedside, he waved his hand.
A bodyguard stepped forward immediately.
SLAP.
A sharp strike landed across my face.
"There, baby. Feel better now? Stop crying or you'll tear your stitches."
"I know you didn't wanna see her today. Want me to make her kneel?"
I was too tired to even be angry.
I just stared at them, holding each other.
I knew exactly why Brielle didn't want to see me today.
Three years ago, I brought a gift to his office.
Just as I was about to ask Brielle when his meeting would end, she burst into the office crying.
That day, I waited until nightfall and never saw him.
And Brielle never came out of that office either.
Back then, I didn't get it.
Now I did.
I was exhausted.
"Let's break up, Dashiell Kane."
I quietly finished the sentence he had interrupted earlier.
The room went still.
I didn't look at them again. Turned and left.
Dashiell said something behind me.
But I no longer wanted to hear it.
I didn't go home.
Under the strange looks of strangers, I went straight to book an abortion.
The anniversary gift I'd prepared—he didn't need to know anymore.
Chapter 3
By the time I left the hospital, it was dark outside.
I went back to the apartment, cramping the whole way up.
As I was sorting through my luggage, heavy footsteps suddenly thundered at the door.
Before I could react, bodyguards stormed in.
I looked up.
Dashiell.
"Brielle wants your chicken soup. Make it now so she can have it tomorrow morning."
He saw the red mark still on my cheek.
His eyelid twitched.
"Does it hurt?"
He reached out like he was going to touch my face.
But I turned my head.
His expression instantly cooled.
He snapped his fingers. The guards carried groceries into the kitchen and stood there watching me.
Making sure I didn't "slack off."
They weren't leaving until the soup was done.
I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the kitchen without looking at him.
All I wanted was to finish quickly, pack up, and leave forever.
I grabbed the chicken and dropped it straight into the pot.
A guard stopped me.
"Mr. Kane said Miss Sinclair doesn't like the smell."
"You need to rinse it under cold water first. Multiple times."
"I can't touch cold water right now."
The guard looked conflicted.
Then Dashiell's voice came from the doorway.
"Ignore her. She's faking it."
He walked in, his tone ice-cold.
"You touched cold water on your period before. What's different now?"
I didn't answer.
Just grabbed the chicken and shoved it under the tap.
What he was referring to was a company retreat, when Brielle pushed me into a river.
February water. It felt like ice picks stabbing into my skin.
I was sick for two weeks.
I told him back then—Brielle pushed me. I didn't jump in for fun.
But he never believed me.
And I didn't want to cause problems between him and his secretary, so I never brought it up again.
By the time the soup was done, it was morning.
Dashiell looked at my pale face.
For once, he seemed concerned.
"Look at you. Can't even take care of yourself and you wanna break up with me?"
"Just stop accusing Brielle of things and stop being jealous. Then we're fine."
"Go get some sleep. Good girl."
They all finally left.
The second the door closed, I ran to the bathroom.
His words made me sick.
I hadn't eaten all day. Nothing came up.
My suitcase was still sitting on the floor.
Either he didn't notice, or he did—and just thought I was putting on a show to compete with Brielle.
Right as I finished packing, someone knocked again.
I opened the door.
A delivery guy held expensive supplements Dashiell sent over.
My phone buzzed.
The contact name on my screen: "Dashiell ❤️."
I blocked him immediately.
Then I took the supplements and threw them straight into the trash.
He'd pulled this move before—hurt me, then send gifts.
Back then, I was stupid enough to think it meant he loved me.
This time, I grabbed my suitcase and left the apartment I'd lived in for five years without looking back.
