Chapter 1Spilled Milk and Severed Ties

I was groomed to be the perfect daughter-in-law for the Vance family since I was a child. At twenty, I married Harrison Vance. At twenty-four, I gave birth to Ethan. Ethan is just like Harrison—always silent, reserved, and not particularly close to me. Every night in the past, I would bring a glass of warm milk to both father and son before they went to sleep. But on this day, Harrison accidentally knocked over his glass, and Ethan secretly poured his down the sink. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. The moment I handed the divorce papers to Harrison. He furrowed his brow, displeased, and asked, "Just because of that?" "Yes, just because of that."

* * *

"What about our son? "What do you plan to do about Ethan?" Harrison returned to his usual expressionless demeanor, asking me in a strictly business tone.

I sat across from him, like a client at his negotiation table, and spoke calmly. "I will give up custody of him. "The property in the East Suburbs will also be transferred to his name, as compensation in lieu of child support."

After all, the child carries the Vance surname. Compared to being with me, he and Harrison look like the real family.

Harrison lowered his gaze to look at me, his emotions barely visible, as if he couldn't understand what kind of tantrum I was throwing. "Lily," he softened his tone, "If you can't get over the milk incident, I apologize. You know I was drunk last night; I didn't mean to treat you that way."

He explained patiently, persistently believing the problem was just that glass of milk.

Last night, Harrison came back very late from a social engagement. I waited up half the night, only waking up when the cold air followed him through the door. I climbed off the sofa, seeing him take off his coat while rubbing his forehead in discomfort. I immediately went to the kitchen to bring him the milk I had kept warm for hours.

Usually, although our marital affection wasn't deep, we at least maintained a decent façade. But last night, I asked one extra question: "Did you see someone? The perfume on you smells familiar."

Harrison suddenly let go of the hand reaching for the milk. I didn't react in time. The glass slipped from our touching fingertips, shattering the silence of the room under the warm lights.

Harrison’s expression turned frosty, his aura radiating irritation. He looked at me coldly and warned, "Lily, you've crossed the line. "In the future, don't wait up for me at night, and there's no need to prepare milk for me anymore."

And my son, Ethan, after seeing his father's reaction, secretly poured his milk down the drain. When I caught him, he stood at the doorway, apologizing to me with the same lack of emotion: "I'm sorry, Mom. If Dad isn't drinking it, I don't want to drink it either."

Perhaps in the eyes of this father and son, this was such a trivial, insignificant matter. I couldn't, and shouldn't, make such a big fuss over it.