Chapter 1The Price of Your Devotion

When Ethan came home with my infertility diagnosis, he broke down and sobbed even harder than I did.

To help cover my medical treatments, he set up a GoFundMe overnight, tearfully describing our agonizing journey trying for a baby.

The moment the sixty thousand dollars in donations hit his account, Ethan held me in his arms, weeping uncontrollably and swearing that taking care of me was his sole duty in this life.

I believed him.

To return that deep devotion, I rushed to put the prime downtown townhouse left by my late parents on the market for an urgent sale.

Just as I was about to press my signature onto the closing agreement, Ethan's phone screen lit up on the counter.

A new text popped up on the lock screen:

"Babe, are the GoFundMe funds enough for the down payment on that Porsche yet?"

"Come home tonight so we can celebrate!"

The sender ID read: [Forever Yours, Chloe.]

For three whole years, I had dutifully swallowed those bitter herbal concoctions every single day.

It wasn't until this very moment that I finally realized—those foul medicines were never meant to help me conceive.

My hand holding the pen froze in midair, the tip just millimeters from the signature line.

"Babe, what's wrong? Sign it already! Mr. Miller has other places to be!" Ethan urged, hurrying out of the bathroom.

I looked up at him.

His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked worn, the spitting image of a devoted husband who had worried himself sick over his wife's health.

Yet, what was he truly hiding inside that chest of his?

"Babe?" Ethan called out again, his hand reaching across the table to grab mine and force it down onto the paper.

I yanked my hand back, clutched my stomach, and collapsed onto the couch.

"Ouch... it hurts..." My face contorted in agony, cold sweat beading on my forehead.

"My stomach hurts so bad... it feels like someone's twisting a knife in my gut... I can't... I can't sign right now..."

Ethan's face darkened, instantly flustered and irritable. "Why are you dropping the ball at such a crucial moment?! Mr. Miller's cash offer is top dollar! Once this deal is gone, it's gone!"

Standing nearby, bald-headed Mr. Miller frowned with obvious displeasure and stubbed out his cigarette in the tray.

"Look, Ethan, your wife has too much drama. Are you selling this place or not? If not, I'm out of here. My liquid cash won't wait around forever."

Panic gripped Ethan. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

"Babe, push through the pain! It's just a signature, takes two seconds! Once we sign, we'll have the cash for your treatments!"

Watching how desperate he was to forge my name himself, I wanted nothing more than to grab a kitchen knife and hack him to pieces!

"I really can't... my hands are shaking too much..." Trembling, I knocked the contract off the coffee table, deliberately tipping over the glass of water next to it. Water flooded across the hardwood floor, instantly soaking through the documents.

"Damn it! The contract!" Ethan shrieked, diving to scoop it up. The signature page was already smeared into an unreadable mess.

Bald Miller cursed under his breath, snatched his briefcase, and headed for the door.

"What a waste of my damn time! Call me tomorrow if you get your act together!"

"Wait! Mr. Miller! Don't leave! We can just print another copy!" Ethan scrambled after him into the hallway. The apartment fell dead silent.

My groans stopped instantly. I stared coldly toward the front door.

Ethan, you want to play dirty mind games? Fine. I'll play along until you drop.