Chapter 1

Five months into my pregnancy, I was still working.

Just before signing a major contract, the new intern, Amber, handed me a cup of almond tea.

I have a severe almond allergy. I went into anaphylactic shock on the spot.

When I woke up, I had lost the $30 million contract and the baby I was carrying.

I never imagined my husband, Damien, the CEO, would only fine the intern $300, then turn to fire me:

“Celeste, Amber didn’t mean it. I’ve already fined her $300. You’ve had a miscarriage, you’re not fit for work. Go home and recover.”

“Is our child only worth $300?”

I sneered.

Then I noticed two fresh scratch marks on Damien’s backside, and it all clicked.

The moment he closed the bathroom door, I called his biggest rival, Devin.

When we first started the company, we were dirt poor. I worked myself so hard back then, doctors told me it would be difficult for me to conceive.

That’s why I was so careful after I got pregnant.

I had planned to take maternity leave right after this $30 million deal was signed.

But I never expected to miscarry.

I remembered telling everyone at a company gathering about my almond allergy. Amber was there.

But now, with tears in her eyes, she claimed:

“I truly had no idea you were allergic to almonds.”

Damien shielded her behind him.

“You can’t blame her entirely. Couldn’t you tell if there were almonds in the tea yourself? A $300 fine is enough.”

Amber continued to sob:

“Celeste, you have such a rich husband in Damien. $300 might be nothing to you. But for me, it’s a box of my father’s medicine. I have to work three days to save that much.”

With that, Amber burst into tears and ran out.

My husband, of course, chased after her.

I stood in the office, a bitter smile on my face.

I had taken pity on her during her interview and hired her, never imagining I had fostered a viper who was now sinking its fangs into me.

Just then, my phone chimed.

It was a SnapChat video from Amber.

The screen showed Damien tenderly kissing away her tears.

“It’s just $300, don’t cry. I’ll transfer three million to you later, okay?”

Amber, eyes red, playfully punched his chest.

“No! What do you mean by five million? Is this payment for making me your mistress? I’m not that cheap; I don’t want to be a mistress…”

Damien grabbed her hands, tossing her onto the bed before telling her:

“You’re not a mistress. You’re my lover.”

The screen then went black, leaving only their muffled moans.

A sharp pang shot through my heart.

Amber was his lover? What did that make me, his wife who’d stood by him for seven years, building his company from the ground up?

When we first got married, Damien’s engagement ring was an aluminum can tab. He knelt, promising me:

“Celeste, I’ll love and protect you for life. Once I’m rich, I’ll buy you the most beautiful ring.”

Now, he was successful, but his vows were long forgotten.

I choked back my tears, drafted the divorce papers, and signed them.