When the internet leaked the news that I was just one of thirty-eight mistresses kept by Silas Sterling—a "Fake Mrs. Sterling"—I was eight months pregnant, busy managing the PR crisis involving him and a young model’s bed photos. Everyone said I was the most dedicated PR Queen in the Manhattan elite circle. My husband’s scandals flew ahead, and I followed behind, cleaning up the mess with a straight face. I had handled over a hundred crises for Silas and issued non-disclosure agreements and hush money to countless women he had slept with. I never expected that one day, I would become the subject of the PR myself. When I found Silas, he was lying naked with Chloe Vance in the nursery I had prepared for our baby. Condoms were scattered across the floor. Seeing me, the usually lethargic man shushed me. "Talk outside. Chloe is a light sleeper." I didn't explode. I only asked calmly, "Does today’s news need a statement?" Thinking of the photoshopped marriage certificate Chloe had posted, Silas smirked. "Good girl, Elena. Chloe is sensitive. Don't expose her." I nodded. "Understood." I turned around and posted a public statement on social media: [I am indeed not in a marital relationship with Mr. Sterling. I would like to congratulate Mr. Sterling on his new marriage.] A wave of mockery erupted online, but Silas grabbed my hand, satisfied. "Once you have the baby, we'll have a proper wedding." I didn't answer. He didn't know that once this child was born, my debt to the Sterling family would be paid in full. And someone else had been waiting ten years for me. A wedding was already prepared—just not by him. The man on the other end of the phone was ecstatic. "Elena! You finally said yes." "Wait for me! I’m flying back to marry you right now!" I hung up, only to find Silas standing behind me. "Did you talk to the reporters? Is it handled?" I looked down at my contact list; it was almost entirely journalists. I curled my lip. I had revolved around him for so long that I had no friends left to call. No wonder he assumed I was working. Seeing my silence, Silas narrowed his eyes and leaned in. "What are you looking at?" I clicked the screen off. "Nothing." Behind him, movers were bringing in mountains of luxury goods. Brands I had coveted for years but could never justify buying. Seeing the smirk on his face, I reminded him, "I’m about to give birth. I won't fit into those..." Before I could finish, Silas was excitedly directing the men. "Turn the nursery into a walk-in closet. Move everything in there." Then, he held out his hand for my keys. "Chloe is packing her bags. She loves this place. Elena, you need to move out for now." I froze. "What did you say?" Silas smiled carelessly, leaning close to my face. He handed me a deed to a different property. "Consider this your bonus for the hard work." I watched the maids tear down the curtains I had carefully chosen. The sunlight streaming in was blinding. I remembered the first time Silas brought me here. He had pressed the keys into my palm and said, "Elena, this is your home. No one can ever kick you out." I had once told him my mother and I were evicted when I was young. He knew I wanted a home that could weather any storm. He gave it to me, and that security kept me by his side for ten years. Through every night he didn't come home. Through every provocation from other women. Through the mockery of high society. Now, he wanted the keys back. Ten years later, I was being evicted again. "Fine," I said. I handed him the keys, took the new deed, and turned to leave. Silas looked surprised that I didn't cause a scene. Usually, I wasn't the "calm and collected" wife the tabloids described. Every time he cheated, I fought like a lunatic. I even threatened to end it all. He would just pacify me with checks and jewelry. But this time, I was done. I was ready to settle for a quiet life for the sake of the baby, but Silas could sleep with anyone except Chloe Vance. Chloe was the living proof of my father’s betrayal. Chloe and her mother were the ones who drove my mother to jump from a thirty-second-story window. Silas grabbed my wrist. His fingers brushed against the faded scars on my arm, and he flinched, unable to hide his disgust. Then, a rare flash of guilt crossed his eyes. "I'll have the driver take you. The new place has great light. You'll like it." I nodded. Halfway there, the driver turned the car around. "The boss wants us back, ma'am." Inside the house, smoke filled the air. The servants stood trembling while Silas stared at a scorched pot. Seeing me, he dragged me into the kitchen. "Elena, that soup you always make... teach me how to do it." I watched him. I watched him sweat as he turned on the stove, overcoming his lifelong fear of fire just to make a pot of soup for the woman he loved. Chloe had posted on Instagram: "In this cold winter, if someone brought me a bowl of hot soup, I’d marry them on the spot!" So Silas, who had never touched a kitchen utensil in his life, was clumsily cooking because of a joke on social media. A few days ago, when I fell in the kitchen, Silas had watched from a distance as if I were a stranger. Later, he posted the security footage of me struggling to get up to a private circle of friends. His caption: "Like a fat pig rolling on the floor." I silently made the soup for him. He took notes on his phone. When it rang, he answered immediately. I saw the contact name: "Wife." I felt a hollow chill. If Chloe was his wife, who was I? As he stepped onto the balcony to talk to her, I called his number. It went straight to a busy signal. He had blocked me. I laughed at myself and left. Silas’s mother was waiting for me at the family estate. She sighed. "Elena, I thought you decided to stay for the baby..." I placed the divorce papers on the table. "According to our deal, if I provide an heir, the medical bills the Sterlings paid for my mother are settled. I'm three days from my due date. Let me go." Ten years ago, Silas was the playboy prince and I was a dishwasher at a bar. He chased me for eighteen months. When his mother found me, my mother was in critical condition. She told me I was the only woman Silas couldn't forget. She wanted me to manage him and give the family an heir. In exchange, they would pay for my mother's life support. I didn't hesitate. "It’s Silas's loss," his mother said, nodding. "I'll arrange your departure after the birth."
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