Chapter 1Six miscarriages, and I'm finally pregnant—then I stumble on her post.
"Being the side chick >>> being the wife. I got the actual diamond ring. She's stuck with the cheap backup ??"
My blood runs cold.
"Didn't want kids, so he made sure she lost six babies. Now I'm ready? $300M penthouse for ME. She gets a dump by the fish market lmao"
I scroll—freeze. That hand. That ring. My husband's.
The door bangs open. "Babe! Got our baby a cute downtown spot—"
I flash my brightest smile.
"Lucas, you're the best."
You cocky son of a bitch.
I'm burning your whole world to the ground.
"Babe, I'm totally broke right now—this crappy apartment is all I can afford. Just give me some time, okay?"
Lucas kisses me all over, grinning like crazy, then rushes into the kitchen.
My nails dig into my palms until they bleed.
Her post keeps climbing. 50K likes. 100K. 200K.
Comments everywhere:
"Their first anniversary? He 'bought' her 9,999 roses lol. Those were leftovers from MY rooftop party. She posted them everywhere like he actually cared ?"
"That silk robe he 'designed' for her? I wore it first. Hundreds of times. He said my scent on it was the only way he could touch her ?"
"Her first baby? I showed him what to put in her vitamins. After that, one text from me and she'd 'accidentally' lose it ?♀️"
"If I could get pregnant, he'd leave her tomorrow. Gotta go—putting on new lingerie. He's coming over tonight to our lake house. Will post the $60M necklace he bought me soon ✨?"
My hands shake. Blood drops on my phone.
The dates match everything.
Year one: positive pregnancy test. We cried happy tears on the bathroom floor.
Three months later—constant bleeding. Doctors said "we don't know why." I collapsed at Target in blood.
Baby gone.
Lucas held me all night. "We'll try again. I promise."
Baby two: hiking trip. "You need fresh air," he said. Someone pushed me into a rock.
Right into my stomach.
Baby three, four, five, six...
I lost them all.
First I cried.
Then I went numb.
This baby—number seven—is all I have left.
Lucas canceled everything to stay with me. Always checking if I'm okay.
But every night at 11, his phone rings.
And he leaves.
I follow her account with shaking hands.
Lucas checks his phone—his face turns red. He sends a voice note: "Twenty minutes."
Looks at me. "Work emergency. Gotta go."
Grabs his jacket.
I grab his arm. "Stay tonight?"
He kisses my forehead and walks out.
I get in an Uber. "Follow that black Tesla."
Lucas and I grew up on the same street. When a dog attacked me, he jumped in front. It tore his shoulder open. Twenty stitches.
I thought he'd never hurt me.
His car passes his office, drives downtown toward the river. To that $30M glass house everyone knows about.
Through the windows, I see two people together.
My heart just stops beating.
Chapter 2
I can't do it. Can't storm in there and make a scene.
Instead, I'm out here on the sidewalk like some pathetic stalker, calling him nonstop. Maybe I followed the wrong Tesla. Maybe that's not even him.
Call one-twenty-seven. He finally answers.
"Babe." His voice drags. "Still dealing with this shit at work. Gonna pull an all-nighter. Get some rest, yeah?"
The line dies.
My legs fold under me. I hit the pavement hard, tears splashing down.
My phone buzzes.
"OMG this lingerie set is INSANE he literally couldn't stop ? five times in a row I can't even walk rn ?"
Each word weighs nothing.
But I can't breathe.
There's a photo. Guy's back—scratches everywhere. That gnarly scar on his left shoulder from when he saved me from that rabid dog back in elementary school.
I've traced that scar with my lips more times than I can count.
That's Lucas.
I sit by the river all night, freezing my ass off, ugly-crying and replaying our entire relationship like some masochistic slideshow I can't turn off.
By sunrise, I splash cold water on my face and dial the clinic.
"First available termination appointment. I need it ASAP."
"Mrs. Grant, after six miscarriages, terminating now means you'll likely never conceive again. You understand that?"
"Book it."
I get home before he does. Print the divorce papers.
Lucas drags himself in around noon, shirt a disaster, bourbon fumes rolling off him. He pulls me close.
"That client was a nightmare. Drank till dawn just to close the damn deal. But I did it—for you and the baby. So we can finally move somewhere decent."
He digs in his pocket. Pulls out this cheap pink teardrop necklace.
"Saw it in some shop window. Made me think of you. Sorry about last night."
That pink makes my stomach flip.
Because she just posted.
A sixty-million-dollar pink diamond set.
"LOL the freebie with this set is some sad little teardrop necklace ? wifey's gonna think it's soooo special ? girl doesn't even know my clasp costs more than her whole gift"
"UPDATE: GUYS I'M PREGNANT ?✨ his swimmers are literally supernatural lmaooo even my busted uterus couldn't resist. Tomorrow I'm getting that 100 mil emerald from Sotheby's as my baby gift ??"
Lucas notices I'm not reacting. He starts touching my forehead, checking my pulse.
"You feeling okay? You look really off."
I pull up my phone. Show him her photos—the emerald, the glass mansion.
"Weirdest thing. I dreamed about these last night. The baby kept showing them to me." I look up with wide eyes. "Think you could get them?"
Chapter 3
Lucas's face goes white when he sees those photos.
"Come on, babe. That emerald's easily a hundred mil. We're barely keeping the lights on at the office. Just... give me some time?"
I shake my head. "No. Whatever you got Vivian Reed? I want that too. Not her hand-me-downs."
I tracked down her real name last night through some tech guy.
Lucas's face goes red, veins popping. "The hell is this about, Evelyn?"
"Vivian's just some kid I put through college. She does data entry for me now. I never bought her a damn thing. You need to get a grip!"
He slaps my phone out of my hand.
He looks exactly like that rabid dog from when we were kids.
That dog was huge—knocked me down, biting everywhere. Lucas had a sprained ankle but still threw himself at it, let it rip into his shoulder instead of me.
"Get out of here! Move!"
So much blood. The dog almost tore his shoulder off. He passed out in the ambulance, still telling them to help me first.
He was out for three days. I cried for three days.
He was my hero back then.
I close my eyes. One more chance.
"Just be honest with me. Did Vivian tell you to do it? All six times?"
Lucas laughs—this ugly, mean sound.
"Listen to yourself. Pregnancy brain hitting that hard? Vivian grew up in foster homes. Lived off scholarships. She answers phones at my firm and you're acting like she's some kind of—what? Baby killer?"
"You keep this shit up, you're going back to Clearwater. Don't test me."
He slams the door. Doesn't come back.
Clearwater.
That word drops me to the floor.
After baby six, I broke. Cried all day. Sat in the nursery holding baby clothes till morning, not talking.
Someone told Lucas I needed help. He sent me to Clearwater—this locked place on an island hours away.
No phone. No visitors. No Lucas.
I banged on that door till my hands got infected. Begged them to call him every day.
He came three months later.
My hands were wrapped in bloody bandages. He got on his knees, crying, saying sorry, promising to shut that place down.
I believed him.
I just looked through Vivian's Instagram from back then.
He was in Hawaii with her the whole time.
Three days pass. Lucas doesn't come home.
I text her.
"Hey Vivian, it's Evelyn. Up for meeting at the lake house?"
