My family has a tradition: everyone, regardless of gender, must hide their identity and never reveal their family background. Only the first descendant to conceive a child earns the right to return home and take over the family business. I was the first in the entire family to get pregnant. The moment I found out, I was so excited I ran home without even putting on my coat. With this child, I could finally stop hiding our poverty from my husband, Ethan Moore. And his struggling little company wouldn't have to worry about next month's rent anymore. But when I got home and opened the door, I found my husband kissing another woman on the sofa. Ethan held the half-dressed woman and looked at me. "Blair's back. Let's get a divorce." I shoved the pregnancy test back into my pocket. What he didn't know was that his poor wife who'd suffered alongside him had a world behind her that he could never reach in his lifetime. Fine. I'll keep the child and leave the father. Goodbye forever. 0
"The divorce agreement is on the table. There's a pen next to it." Ethan's tone was flat. Blair slowly straightened her clothes, her neck covered with intense kiss marks. She sat in my usual spot, glanced at me, and curved her lips slightly without saying a word. As if she were the mistress of this house. I walked over and picked up the agreement. Three pages, densely written. The house goes to Ethan. Company shares go to Ethan. Savings go to Ethan. The car goes to Ethan. I get nothing. "I leave with nothing?" Ethan finally looked at me. "The agreement includes compensation. Thirty thousand dollars. That's not nothing." Thirty thousand. I'd been married to this man for three years. Ten thousand per year. Blair set down her teacup. "Vivian, with thirty thousand you can rent a nice studio apartment." I stared at her. "When did you get back?" "Yesterday." Blair tilted her head. "Ethan picked me up from the airport. He waited four hours—my flight was delayed." Yesterday. Yesterday Ethan told me he had to work late at the company. Blair stood up and walked to Ethan's side, naturally linking her arm through his. "Ethan said you're a good person and wouldn't make things difficult for me." Ethan didn't pull away from her touch. The phone in my pocket pressed against the pregnancy test, jabbing painfully into my thigh. I'd planned to come home and tell him—Ethan, we're having a baby. You won't have to lose sleep over rent anymore, won't have to grovel and drink with clients until you get stomach bleeding. I thought today would be our best day. "Where's the pen?" Ethan pointed to the coffee table. I crouched down to get the pen. From this angle, I could see Blair's hand resting on Ethan's waist. When I uncapped the pen, the pregnancy test nearly slipped out of my pocket. I quickly pressed it back in. "Sign on the last page. Date it today." Ethan's voice came from above. I signed my name. Vivian Stone. Put down the pen and stood up. "Fine. The agreement needs to be filed at the courthouse to take effect." "Tomorrow morning at nine. I'll come find you." After speaking, Ethan picked up his phone and unlocked it right in front of me, scrolling to his contacts. He changed my label from "My Darling Wife" to Vivian Stone. Then he closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. Blair leaned on his shoulder. "Ethan, I want to eat your spaghetti." "Alright, I'll make it right now." Ethan actually turned and went into the kitchen. Three years, and he'd never cooked for me once. I'd asked him if he could cook. He said no, said he couldn't even fry an egg without burning it. Now he tied his apron with more practiced ease than tying his shoelaces. Blair shrugged at me. "Vivian, don't just stand there. Hurry and take whatever you need. Tomorrow I'm having people come redecorate. I looked at your clothes—they're all pretty worn. Don't bother taking them. They're too shabby even for cleaning rags." I went back to the bedroom and grabbed my important documents and a cloth bag containing a few things I'd brought from home when I got married—things that had nothing to do with Ethan. When I came out and passed the kitchen, Ethan was cutting tomatoes. The knife thumped against the cutting board. He didn't look up. I changed my shoes at the door. Blair followed and leaned against the doorframe. "Vivian, I don't know if I should say this." "Go ahead." "When Ethan's with me, he never sighs. In these three years with you, I've heard him sigh so many times on the phone." She lowered her head, her voice soft. "Maybe you two really aren't compatible." I looked at her. Ethan sighed because of broken funding chains, clients backing out, the company nearly collapsing. Every crisis, I'd been the one supporting him from behind. After he sighed, the next day he'd wake up and the problem would be solved. He thought it was luck. "You're right," I bent down to tie my shoelaces. "We're not compatible." The moment the door closed, Blair's voice came from inside. "Ethan, let's change the door lock code. I want to set it to our anniversary." 0
I moved into a studio apartment near the university that rented for three hundred dollars a month. Next door was a restaurant. Cooking oil fumes seeped in through the window cracks. I sat on the hard bed and stared at the pregnancy test for a long time. Two bright pink lines, piercingly clear. My phone rang. Ethan. "Vivian Stone, you still haven't canceled that company credit card." "I'll take care of it tomorrow when we go to the courthouse." "Fine." I was about to hang up when Blair's voice came from his end. "Ethan, does she still have the company access card? I saw it in her bag last time." Ethan paused. "Bring the access card too." "What else?" "That's it for now." He hung up. The phone screen glowed, showing three years of chat history with Ethan. His first message to me was: Miss Stone, thank you for helping me out today. That day he'd been negotiating with a client who suddenly raised the price. He was sweating profusely. I happened to be there and discreetly helped him reorganize the contract terms. The other party signed on the spot. Ethan didn't know that client was already connected to my family. He only knew his wife worked as a supermarket cashier making thirty-five hundred dollars a month. For three years of marriage, I'd maintained that persona. The next morning, Ethan's mother called. "Vivian, have you finished packing?" "I'm packing." "Don't bother with those clothes of yours—they're nothing special anyway. Also, those pickles you used to make, Blair said they're pretty good. She wants the recipe." I'd made pickles for three years. Ethan ate them every day. My mother-in-law had never praised them once. "I'm not giving it to her." "What kind of attitude is that?" Her mother-in-law immediately changed her tone. "You're already divorced and you're still being petty? Blair's family has real status. She's doing you a favor by asking for your pickle recipe." "What status?" "Blair's parents run an import-export company in New York. Not everyone's a supermarket cashier like you." Her mother-in-law lowered her voice. "Vivian, I'll be honest with you. I was never really satisfied when Ethan married you in the first place. You've been hardworking these three years, I'll give you that. But people move up in the world. Ethan's company is growing now. You can't keep up." "Blair and Ethan were college classmates. They're a perfect match. Now that she's back, don't stand in the way." Last year when Ethan nearly went bankrupt over a bad debt and couldn't even pay employee salaries, I used my family's connections to recover that bad debt. Ethan thought the debtor had a sudden attack of conscience and repaid voluntarily. He was so happy when he came home that day. He hugged me and said, "Honey, we're so lucky." "I'm not giving her the pickle recipe. Do you have anything else to ask?" My mother-in-law hung up angrily. Half an hour later, Ethan sent a message: My mom says you had a bad attitude. We're already divorced—don't make this uglier than it needs to be. I didn't reply. I turned my phone face-down on the bed and touched my stomach. In three months, I'd start showing. By then I'd return to the family as the only heir who'd successfully conceived, and take over everything. Ethan's company that he'd worked so hard to build was worth three million. In front of the Stone family, that wasn't even pocket change. That afternoon I went to the hospital to register for prenatal care. While waiting in the queue, my phone rang again. Blair, calling from Ethan's phone. "Vivian, sorry to bother you. I found a bottle of folic acid in your old bedroom. I wanted to ask if it's yours or if it was left by the previous tenants?" Folic acid. That was what I'd been taking while trying to conceive. I gripped my phone tightly. "Throw it away. It's expired." "Okay. By the way, Ethan asked me to ask you—when are you canceling the credit card?" "Tomorrow." "Great, bye then." She hung up. My hand was trembling. Not from anger, but from fear. Blair had found the folic acid. "Will she figure it out?" I stared at my phone, talking to myself. No one answered. 0
The day my prenatal test results came back, I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor in a daze. The doctor said everything was normal, the baby was healthy, and told me to watch my nutrition and rest. The baby is healthy. I repeated those words three times. "Vivian?" I looked up. Blair stood at the end of the corridor holding a bag of fruit. She smiled and walked over. "What a coincidence! You're at this hospital too?" "What are you doing here?" "Visiting a friend." She sat down next to me and casually glanced at my hands. I turned the test results face-down, but her eyes had already caught something. "Obstetrics?" Blair's tone changed, no longer that sweet enthusiasm. She stared straight at my face. "Vivian, you're not..." "It's none of your business." "Pregnant?" I stood up. "Blair, this isn't your concern." "Of course it's my concern." She stood up too. "If it's Ethan's child, then it is my business." People were passing back and forth in the corridor. She lowered her voice and moved closer. "Vivian, are you planning to hide this from everyone and have the baby? And then what, use the child to threaten Ethan?" "I don't need to threaten anyone." "But Ethan won't want this child." Blair's tone was certain. "He said his child should be born into a complete family. The family he's chosen doesn't include you." "He told you that?" "He tells me everything." Blair pulled out her phone and played a voice message. Ethan's voice came from the phone: Blair, once I get through this busy period, we'll have a wedding ceremony. We'll deal with the future later. Just settle in for now. "Did you hear that? He's already planning our wedding. If you show up pregnant now, everyone will think you're being clingy and desperate." I took a deep breath. Blair watched my reaction, as if confirming something. "Vivian, I have a suggestion. Get rid of the baby, and we'll go our separate ways. I won't tell Ethan, and I won't tell anyone." "Or else?" "Or else I'll tell him. What do you think he'll do when he finds out?" She pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to me. "What's this?" "Open it." Inside the envelope was an ultrasound report with Blair's name at the top, dated two weeks ago. It clearly stated: Intrauterine early pregnancy, 7 weeks. "I'm pregnant too." Blair put away her smile and looked at me seriously. "Ethan already knows. He's thrilled. He bought a ton of pregnancy supplies." "So you understand now? His first child can only be born to me." I stared at that ultrasound report. Seven weeks pregnant. Blair had only returned to the country yesterday. Seven weeks ago she was abroad, but this ultrasound had the stamp of the city's maternal and child health hospital. The timeline didn't match. But I said nothing. Now wasn't the time to expose her. "Think about it." Blair patted my shoulder. "Before things get messy." She turned and left. I clutched that ultrasound report. You say you're pregnant too. Seven weeks ago you were abroad, but the ultrasound has this city's stamp. "Blair, what the hell are you?" 0
The next day at ten a.m., Ethan appeared at the door of my studio apartment. "I know." He stood outside, his expression complicated—not angry, more like a kind of patronizing helplessness. "Know what?" "That you're pregnant. Blair told me." She hadn't kept her promise after all. Ethan walked in and looked around the room—less than a hundred square feet—and frowned. "Vivian Stone, what are you planning to do with this child?" "Have it." "Have it and then what?" His voice rose slightly. "You make thirty-five hundred a month. You can barely support yourself." "You don't need to worry about me." "I'm worried about myself." Ethan sat on the only plastic chair, hands clasped. "Blair's pregnant too. You know that, right? She's further along than you—already seven weeks." "She showed me the ultrasound." "Right." Ethan nodded. "Let me be clear. My first child should be with Blair. Yours... isn't appropriate." "Ethan Moore, are you sure you want me to abort your child?" "We're already divorced. Even if you have this child, it'll be a single-parent family. That's not good for anyone." He stood up. "Get an abortion. I'll pay for the procedure and nutrition costs. Is fifty thousand enough?" The door was pushed open from outside. My mother-in-law. She walked in carrying a plastic bag and looked around. "This is where you're living?" My mother-in-law put the plastic bag on the table. "There's twenty thousand dollars in there for the abortion. Plus the thirty thousand from Ethan, that's fifty total. Enough for you to start over." "I told you, I'm keeping the child." My mother-in-law's face darkened. "Vivian, don't be ungrateful. You know what Blair's family is like. She's Ethan's legitimate wife. You're carrying a bastard..." "This isn't a bastard. It's Ethan Moore's child." "If my son doesn't acknowledge it, then it isn't." My mother-in-law's voice rose. "You think getting pregnant means you can latch onto our family?" "Vivian Stone, I'll say this one last time." Ethan didn't look up from his phone. "Get rid of the child and we'll part on good terms. If you don't, I'll go to court and apply for a paternity test and fight for custody. I have a house and a company. You have nothing. The court will award me the child." "And then I'll let Blair raise this child." Let Blair raise my child. That sentence was like a knife, stabbing precisely into me. My mother-in-law pushed me. "Did you hear? Don't think pregnancy gives you leverage. You're nothing in front of us." Ethan's phone screen lit up. A message from Blair popped up. I glimpsed a line of text: [Ethan, is it handled? I bought your favorite cheesecake.] Ethan replied, locked the screen, looked up at me, waiting for my answer. My mother-in-law stood beside him with her arms crossed, like a supervisor. I touched my stomach. This child was the Stone family heir, the child my entire family had waited over a decade for. Ethan wanted to fight for custody? He had no idea who he was challenging. I took out my phone and found a number I hadn't called in three years. I dialed. It was answered after one ring. "Dad, come pick me up. I'm pregnant." Ethan and my mother-in-law both looked at me. My father's voice came through the phone, very calm, but every word carried undeniable weight. "Give me twenty minutes." I hung up. Ethan frowned. "Who did you call?" "My father." My mother-in-law laughed mockingly. "Your father? Didn't you say your father was a farmer in the countryside? Calling some old farmer to back you up?" I put my phone back in my pocket. "Ethan Moore, you just said you want to fight for custody." "That's right." "Fine. Then wait."
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