We had been divorced for four years when I ran into Lucas Sterling at the hospital. I was there to pick up a pathology report. He was there to visit his newborn son. We stood in the elevator in silence, the air thick with unspoken history. Neither of us was willing to break the ice. But the moment I stepped out, he chased after me. "Elena," he called out, his voice laced with concern. "Are you sick? Do you need my help?" I shook my head, keeping my expression flat. "I’m not the patient. My child is." He froze. His eyes drifted to the waiting area, where a little girl in a floral dress sat quietly, swinging her legs. She looked up, her eyes wide and timid—eyes that were a mirror image of his own. Lucas’s pupils constricted violently. "Is that... is that our child?" To this day, he had never known he had a daughter. 1 Across the sterile, narrow hallway, Lucas stared at Clementine. She was a little over three years old, peeking curiously at the stranger. Her brow, her nose—she was his carbon copy. After a long silence, Lucas turned back to me, his voice trembling. "Is she... ours?" I nodded. There was no point in hiding it now. He frowned, a mix of confusion and anger rising on his face. "Why didn't you tell me?" I looked at him, and suddenly, the memory of the abortion clinic flooded my mind. Back then, Lucas was angry that I had confronted his mistress, Sophie. When he found out I was pregnant, he treated it like a punishment. He forced me into that clinic, demanding I get rid of the "problem." I didn't cry on the way there. But as the cold instruments pierced me, tears had rolled down my face from the sheer physical pain. I thought I would remember that pain forever. But looking back now, I answered him calmly. "I found out I was pregnant with Clementine a month after we separated. She was already almost four months along. I was terrified that if you knew, you’d force me to terminate her too." "At that stage, it would have been too dangerous. It would have cost me my life." Lucas looked stunned. "I... I didn't mean that. What's wrong with her? What illness does she have?" "Congenital heart valve defect." Lucas looked back at Clementine, his expression unreadable. "I’ll contact the best specialists in the country," he said urgently. "I don't care how much it costs. We will fix her..." "There's no need," I interrupted. "Clem had her surgery last month. Today was just a check-up. The doctor says she's recovering perfectly." I ended the conversation. "If that's all, I'm leaving." But Lucas called out again. "The medical bills... are you okay for money?" "I mean, if you need anything, you can ask me." I took Clementine’s hand and turned toward the stairwell. "Not necessary." The rain had already stopped. Offering an umbrella now was meaningless. 2 In the stairwell, a group of nurses were chatting during a shift change. They were each holding a small box of gourmet chocolates. One nurse, who I knew well, handed Clementine a lollipop and whispered to me. "That’s Lucas Sterling, the CEO of Sterling Corp, upstairs in the VIP suite. His wife just gave birth to a son this morning. He’s so happy he’s handing out Godiva to the whole floor." I heard the others gossiping as they walked down. They said the Sterling baby was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. They said Lucas was so thrilled he donated five million dollars to the hospital wing on the spot. They said his wife was elegant and gentle, a perfect match for him. I listened calmly, feeling nothing. Until I heard this: "Actually, this is his second marriage. He had an ex-wife before." "I heard she was some psycho from the trailer park. She used to show up at his office screaming and hitting him." "He put up with it for three years before he finally divorced her." The nurses sighed in sympathy. "Poor Mr. Sterling. How did he end up with a crazy woman?" "That woman was an idiot. Imagine fumbling a bag like Lucas Sterling." "Well, he’s got his happy ending now." I let out a dry laugh. So that was the narrative. I had become the villain in his story. I didn't argue. I just patted Clementine’s head and kept walking. Suddenly, the stairwell went quiet. I looked up to see Lucas standing on the landing above us. His voice was cold, directed at the nurses. "My ex-wife wasn't like that. Please stop spreading rumors." "She... was actually a good person." He spoke to them, but his eyes were fixed on me. I didn't stop walking. Honestly, the nurses weren't entirely wrong. Towards the end of my marriage to Lucas, I did act like a crazy person. 3 Lucas wasn't born a Sterling. He was a foster kid who ended up in my small, rural town in the Rust Belt. The couple who fostered him were paid by the state, but they didn't care about him. Once they had their own biological son a year later, Lucas became invisible. In my memories, Lucas’s childhood was miserable. He worked endless chores, wore rags, and was always hungry. My Nana couldn't stand watching it. She’d call him over to our porch for dinner. We’d sit side-by-side on plastic stools, eating Nana’s stew. Whenever his foster dad beat him, he ran to us. Nana would apply ointment to his bruises, sighing. "This is no way to live." So, my Nana—a woman who had never left the county—took a bus three hours to the city to find records of his biological parents. Even Lucas had given up hope, but Nana was stubborn. And miraculously, she found them. The "Sterling" family from New York City. The day they came to get him was a spectacle. A convoy of black SUVs rolled down our dirt road. It was a scene I’d only seen in movies. When Lucas left, he took me with him. Nana waved goodbye from the porch, tears in her eyes. "Go get an education," she yelled. "See the world." We were both sixteen. For the next ten years, our lives intertwined. We went from best friends to lovers. He married me despite his wealthy family’s objections. I planned a dream wedding. I remember him lifting my veil, kissing me like I was the most precious thing in the world. I thought I was running toward a fairy tale. I didn't know that clouds scatter easily in the wind, and glass breaks at the slightest touch. I dressed up in my finest gown only to walk into a tragedy. 4 I had mentored a girl named Sophie. She was from a background like mine—poor, struggling, but bright. She got into the same university in the city where I lived. I picked her up from the train station, paid for her dorm essentials, and showed her the ropes. I promised to drive her to orientation, but the night before, I got a call from Nana’s neighbor. Nana had fallen and broken her hip. I booked the first flight home. Since Sophie had so much luggage, I asked Lucas to help her move in. That was my mistake. I let the wolf into the fold. Nana’s injury was severe. I spent months shuttling between the city and my hometown, too distracted to notice the changes in Lucas. On Lucas’s 28th birthday, he called to say he was stuck at a business dinner. I went down to the garage to check something in the car and saw them. Lucas was in the driver’s seat. Sophie was straddling him, her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him. The window was halfway down. I saw Lucas’s eyes—usually so calm—filled with raw, animal lust. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I smashed my purse against the window. Sophie flinched like a frightened deer, burying her face in his chest. But Lucas didn't look panicked. He just held her tighter, protecting her from me. "I pursued her, Elena. Don't blame her." "She grew up poor, just like you. Just like me. I saw myself in her." "Maybe what we had wasn't love. It was just family loyalty. Meeting Sophie made me realize what passion actually feels like." So, the time he climbed a snowy mountain to write my name in the snow wasn't passion? The vows we made on a windy beach weren't love? That day, I learned their affair had been going on for six months. While I was working, the girl I mentored was wearing my silk pajamas, sleeping in my bed, and laughing with my husband. Sophie looked at me with wide, teary eyes. "Elena, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to take anything from you. I just... I love Lucas so much." "You’ve helped me for so long. Please, help me one last time. Let him go." Unlike my disheveled state, she was draped in Lucas’s suit jacket, holding his hand. And on her finger was a blue diamond ring. It matched his wedding band better than my white diamond ever did. Drained of all energy, I leaned against a concrete pillar. "Let's divorce." I thought he would agree. After all, he had found "true love." To my surprise, Lucas refused.
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