Chapter 1The Richest Husband in New York Was Drugged

My husband, Damien Hawthorne, the wealthiest man in New York, was drugged. He slept with a college student.

The moment he came to his senses, he called me. His voice was a raw, panicked rasp.

"Elara, I was drugged. I made a mistake. But I paid her off. She won't be a problem."

After eight years of a storybook marriage, I chose to believe it was just a terrible accident.

Six months later, Damien was on a business trip to the southern coast when a massive earthquake hit. The news was everywhere.

By the time I reached the hospital, Damien was standing outside a private room, his face a mask of conflict.

The doctor explained that the young woman, Chloe, was three months pregnant. She had dug him out of the rubble with her bare hands, her fingers torn to bloody ribbons.

Damien gripped my hand, his voice a low, pleading whisper. "Three months ago... her family died, and she came to me for help. I'd been drinking... I never thought it would just... happen."

He squeezed my hand tighter. "Don't worry, she'll never set foot in our home. She'll never, ever threaten your place as my wife."

Just then, Chloe burst out of the room and collapsed to her knees before me, sobbing. "Mrs. Hawthorne, please, I'm begging you, let my baby live!"

Damien looked at me, his eyes pleading. "Elara, you've always been the reasonable one. The baby is innocent..."

I stared at him, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face.

"Damien, you have two choices."

"Either we divorce."

"Or you make her disappear."

"I won't divorce you!" he cried, his eyes turning red as he grabbed my arms. "But I have to take responsibility for her!"

In the end, Chloe gave birth to twins. The Hawthorne estate was drowned in celebration.

I twisted the wedding band from my ring finger and dialed a number I’d hoped never to use. "That offer you made," I said. "I accept."

A low chuckle answered from the other end of the line.

"Mrs. Hawthorne. A pleasure doing business with you."

I stood at the door to the hospital room, my fingers clenched into a fist.

Through the crack in the door, I could see Damien's parents, each cradling an infant, their faces glowing with joy.

Even Damien, a man who wore a mask of cool composure in public, was gazing down at the baby in his arms with a tenderness I had never seen before, a gentle, doting smile playing on his lips.

How ironic. They looked like a perfect, happy family. And I was the intruder.

Damien looked up and saw me. His smile froze. "Elara, you're back..."

I said nothing.

His mother shot me a sideways glance, her voice as sharp and cold as ice. "So, you finally decided to come back? Had enough of your little soul-searching retreat in the mountains?"

"It's good that you're back," his father said, playing peacemaker, though his eyes never left the grandchild in his arms. "Just in time for the one-month celebration. As Mrs. Hawthorne, you should at least make an appearance."

His mother's expression softened slightly. "The children still need proper names. You and Damien should think of some. And don't you worry, as long as you play your part, your position as the lady of the Hawthorne family is secure."

I looked at them, my face a numb mask, and nodded. "Fine."

Once his parents had left, Damien’s phone rang. He glanced at me, then stepped into the hallway to take the call.

Now, it was just me and Chloe.

Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow, her hair shining with a luster that spoke of expensive care. The Hawthornes had clearly spared no expense on her these past months.

"Elara," she began, her voice a timid whisper. "If I've done anything wrong, you can hit me, you can scream at me... just please, don't fight with Damien anymore. You know you're the only one he loves. He had your rooms cleaned every single day you were gone."

"Chloe," I said, my gaze cutting through her charade. "You can drop the act. The money he gave you the first time was enough to set you up for life. You could have taken it and disappeared. But you came back, didn't you? You sought him out. And now you have these children."

"I know exactly what you're playing at," I finished.

Her face flushed, then paled.

Suddenly, she snatched one of the infants from the bassinet and thrust the baby into my arms.

The warm, milky scent of the tiny bundle made me freeze.

But in the next heartbeat, the baby slipped from my grasp. A sickening thud echoed through the room, followed by a piercing, heartbreaking wail.

The sound shattered the quiet. Damien burst back into the room and shoved me aside.

I stumbled back, watching as he scooped up the crying infant, his face etched with pain and terror.

He looked at me, his eyes a swirling vortex of emotions. He didn't say a word, but his silence screamed his condemnation.

Chloe was already sobbing beside him. "Damien, I just wanted her to hold the baby... I don't know how she could..."