Seven months pregnant. I found an expired asset transfer agreement in Julian's hidden safe in his study. Twenty percent of Vance Group's shares, worth billions. Plus three overseas estates and a private island. All gifted for free to my stepsister, Seraphina. But when Julian and I got married, he only handed me a prenuptial agreement. "A business alliance, just a formality," he had said casually back then. "Sign it." I signed it, entering the Vance family with absolutely nothing. Ten years of marriage, and I didn't even know his PIN code. "Who allowed you into my study?" Julian's voice came from the door, ice-cold. I turned to look at this man I had loved for fifteen years. No tears, no scene. I just said calmly, "Julian, let's get a divorce." He strode in, snatched the agreement from my hand, and threw it to the floor. "An old story from years ago, and you're making a scene over it?" He didn't even explain. He just angrily told me to get out. I calmly walked out of the study, pulled out my phone, and made a call. "Marcus, help me find a safe place. I want to move out immediately."
My stomach started cramping uncontrollably. I leaned against the bedroom wall, sliding down to the floor, fighting back tears as I texted my lawyer. My lawyer's call came back instantly. "Mrs. Vance, are you absolutely sure you want to waive all marital assets and leave with nothing?" "According to the law, a pregnant woman is entitled to at least" Marital assets? I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. There were no marital assets. All of Julian's stock appreciation over the years was held through nominees, and all his assets were notarized as pre-marital property. My name was never on the family trust's beneficiary list. On the day we got engaged, he had casually mentioned that he wouldn't marry a woman who lived off him. He wouldn't hand over what he worked so hard to get just because of a marriage. Back then, I thought he was just bitter because his father forced him to marry me to repay an old family debt. I knew how hard it was for him to inherit the Vance Group while fighting off a pack of ruthless half-brothers. So, like an obedient fool, I signed page after page of property waivers. I thought that one day, he would let his guard down and truly see me. But seeing that asset transfer agreement, I realized how pathetic I was. Every single asset on that list matched the exact items I had signed away at the notary office years ago. It wasn't that he was unwilling to share. It was just that the wife he wanted to share it with wasn't me. "Marcus," I interrupted him. "Please draft the divorce papers. I'm leaving with nothing." My hands were still shaking when I hung up. Not from hesitation, but from pure rage. Ten years of marriage felt like a long, elaborate scam, and I had willingly played the fool. The password to Julian's hidden safe was Seraphina's birthday. He was willing to give Seraphina everything, yet my monthly credit card limit was capped at five hundred dollars. Even when I was seven months pregnant, vomiting my guts out, he was busy accompanying Seraphina to her private art exhibition. And the most ridiculous part? I was the one who designed their love nest. Three months ago, Julian brought me a villa's blueprints, forcing me to work despite my severe morning sickness. "A friend is gifting a villa to his partner. Design it to the highest standard, as soon as possible." Now it clicked. That "friend" was himself. And the elegant signature on the owner's line read "S.S." Seraphina Sterling. The divorce papers arrived by evening. My lawyer made one last attempt to persuade me. "Mrs. Vance, at least keep the money you earned yourself..." I shook my head. Julian hadn't contributed a single dime to our household expenses over the years. All my income as a designer had gone into running this house. Looking back, I must have seemed incredibly cheap to him. As I signed, the baby kicked violently, as if protesting, or perhaps comforting me. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I broke down and cried.
By that afternoon, with Marcus's help, I rented an apartment. I didn't care about the location or the layout. I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. It was 8:00 PM when I got back to the Vance estate. The exhaustion of pregnancy made my back ache intensely, but I still cooked one last dinner. All Julian's favorites. For ten years, I knew his tastes better than my own. Whatever the ending, I wanted a clean break for the sake of our fifteen-year history. But Julian didn't return until 1:00 AM. He smelled of the perfume Seraphina loved, with a glaring lipstick stain on his collar. I watched him loosen his tie. His ring finger was bare. At some point, he had stopped wearing his wedding band. He saw the cold, untouched food on the table, and his brow furrowed. There was no warmth in his eyes, only deep annoyance. "Playing the victim again? Do you really think this will make me back down?" He tossed his coat onto the sofa and headed upstairs without a second glance. "Julian," I called out, my voice surprisingly calm. "The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them." He froze, then turned around, his eyes dripping with sarcasm. "All because of an expired agreement? Luna, since when did you become so unreasonable?" "Your father forced me into this marriage by using a life-saving favor. I had no choice." "Seraphina has a weak heart. I just wanted to give her some security, a gesture of goodwill!" Security? A gesture? How laughable. Two simple phrases dismissed all my pain. I finally understood. For ten years, the obstacle between us wasn't anything elsehe simply never loved me. Fifteen years ago, on a rainy night, his half-brothers were hunting him down. I hid him in my family's pool house for three days. I secretly brought him food and medicine, nearly getting beaten to death myself by those thugs. He had held my hand and promised, "Luna, once I take control of the Vance family, I will marry you in style." He did take control, using ruthless corporate means. But he "married" me with nothing but a cold, calculating prenuptial agreement. "Julian," I said, holding my belly as I stood up. "So you do remember that you owe me your life." He paused, then sneered. "Oh, so you want to settle the score now? Fine. Name your price. How much do you want?" Name your price. I laughed bitterly. The last warm corner of my heart turned to ash. "No need, Julian. I'm truly done with this marriage." "I want to see the signed divorce papers on the living room table by 9:00 AM tomorrow." I squeezed out every ounce of strength to keep my voice steady. Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and went upstairs. Behind me, the sound of glass shattering echoed, followed by his furious, out-of-control roar: "Luna! You'd better not regret this!" Regret? My only regret was opening that pool house door fifteen years ago.
The next morning, the living room was empty. The divorce papers had been torn to shreds, scattered carelessly across the expensive rug. My heart clenched at the sight, but then quickly went numb. This was Julian's answer. He wouldn't explain, and he wouldn't let go. My phone lit up with a message from Seraphina on Snapchat. A month ago, she had suddenly added me. Her first message was: "Luna, long time no see. I'm back. Julian picked me up at the airport. He hasn't changed at all." Since then, my phone had become a front-row seat to her happiness. A photo of Julian's back as he walked with her at the art gallery, Julian putting food on her plate, her bare leg resting casually in Julian's car... And yesterday, she sent a voice note. In the background, I could clearly hear Julian hanging up a call impatiently. "Luna? Don't worry about her, she always makes a big deal out of nothing. Just focus on the paintings." The latest message was sent ten minutes ago. It was a photo. Julian was sleeping in her bed, looking peaceful, surrounded by the star-themed bedding I knew too well. The caption read: "Luna, I heard you touched Julian's things in his study and made him mad?" "Sigh, that agreement was just something he made to comfort me when I was sick years ago. It expired long ago. Don't misunderstand." "But Luna, you really look like my younger self, especially your eyes. Julian said that's the first thing he noticed when he met you." "Oh, by the way, how is the baby? Julian said he hopes the baby inherits my eyes." A wave of nausea hit my throat. I rushed into the bathroom and dry-heaved violently. My morning sickness had never been this intense. Leaning against the sink, I stared at my pale face and bloodshot eyes in the mirror. These eyes... I only had them because they looked like hers? Fifteen years of devotion, ten years of marriage, all because a man couldn't get the woman he truly wanted. And I was just a cheap, flawed substitute. Tears finally spilled over. With trembling hands, I replied to Seraphina. "You always love picking up my trash. Keep him. Keep Julian." I sent it. Almost instantly, Julian's name flashed on my screen. I didn't pick up. I declined the FaceTime call and blocked his number. The world went blissfully quiet. I held my tightening belly, took deep breaths, and forced myself to calm down. Now was not the time for grief. I called a moving company and began packing my things. My clothes, my design sketches, my simple kitchenware, and small appliances... Everything I bought myself was packed into boxes. As for the expensive jewelry, designer gowns, and luxury bags Julian bought to maintain the image of "Mrs. Vance," I didn't touch a single one. Even my wedding ring was left quietly on the vanity. The movers arrived quickly and loaded the boxes. Before leaving, I took one last look at the mansion I had lived in for ten years. Beautiful, cold, and a perfect golden cage. And now, my sentence was served. My new apartment was tiny, but it got plenty of sunlight. It took me a whole day to unpack. My body ached, and my lower abdomen felt heavy, but a strange sense of relief washed over me. That night, I received a text from an unknown number. It was Julian. "Luna, come home right now. We can pretend none of this happened." "Seraphina is in fragile health. Stop harassing and stressing her out." "And deliver the baby. A Vance heir cannot be born outside." Looking at the text, I laughed until tears came out. Even now, all he cared about was Seraphina's feelings and the Vance bloodline. Whether I lived or died, felt pain or sorrow, didn't matter to him at all. I didn't reply. I deleted the message and blocked the number.
The day before my scheduled check-up, I went to the hospital. In the ultrasound room, cold gel was applied to my stomach, and the transducer slid over it. The doctor pointed at the screen. "The baby is very healthy. Look, these are the tiny hands, and these are the feet..." The tiny figure was moving, and my heart clenched painfully. With a cracked voice, I asked, "Doctor... the baby's father is trying to force me to give up custody. What should I do?" The older female doctor adjusted her glasses, looking at me with a complicated expression. "At this stage, an induced labor or giving up the baby would be devastating to you. Besides... the baby can already feel pain." She placed her hand gently on my stomach. "This baby seems very lively." I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My steps were unsteady as I walked out of the clinic. But at the end of the long hallway, I saw the one person I dreaded meeting. Julian stood there in his bespoke suit, looking every bit the powerful CEO of the Vance Group. "Come back with me." He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it nearly crushed my bones. "Stop throwing tantrums." "A tantrum?" I looked up at him. "Julian, you think this is a tantrum?" "That agreement was expired and useless," he said impatiently. "Seraphina's heart is weak. I just wanted to give her some security" "So I'm just the stepping stone for your beautiful love story?" I wrenched my hand back. "Julian, do you remember the year we got married, when I had a hundred-and-four-degree fever? You said you were too busy to come home. Later, I saw Seraphina's Instagram post showing you two skiing in Switzerland." "On our third anniversary, you said you had a board meeting, but I saw your car in the background of Seraphina's selfie." "Every time I had a prenatal check-up, you were too busy. Yet you always had time to go to her art shows, buy her jewelry, and celebrate every single one of her birthdays." I listed them one by one, my voice as calm as if I were telling someone else's story. Julian's expression finally cracked. "You... you knew all along?" "Because I never said anything, I just kept telling myself to give you one more chance, to believe in you one more time." I smiled, but tears streamed down my face. "It was only when I saw that agreement that I realized what a fool I've been." He fell silent. For the first time, I saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. But it was too late. Way too late. "I will have this baby," I said softly. "But it has nothing to do with you." "From now on, the baby and I have absolutely nothing to do with Julian Vance." With that, I turned and walked away. He didn't chase after me. For the next few days, I shut off all communication and rested in my apartment. My lawyer told me Julian refused to sign the divorce papers. "Mrs. Vance, if you insist on a divorce, we'll have to go to court. But since you are pregnant, the court usually favors mediation first." "Furthermore, Mr. Vance made it clear that if you go to court, he has the resources to take full custody of the child." Marcus's voice sounded helpless. I held the phone, silent for a long time. I knew Julian could do it. He had endless wealth and power. I had nothing but the baby in my belly. "Marcus, how long would a contested divorce take?" "If he drags it out and uses his connections... it could take years." Years? I couldn't wait that long. My baby couldn't be born into this chaos. I had to make Julian agree to the divorce himself.
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