chapter 3

During his illness, I stayed up with him through every night of whimpers and fretful tossing.

Just then, though, he favored his father—the man who’s never changed a diaper or soothed a fever—over me.

All because of another woman, he’s turned scornful eyes on the one who held him through every storm.

At parent-teacher meetings, he’d demand, "Why isn’t Dad here?"

When I said his father was working, he’d snap, "Then let Ms. Miller come. The way you dress is so embarrassing."

I’d stood there, staring at my faded jeans and cotton shirt—nothing like Emily’s designer dresses.

So he preferred her as his mother!

On the phone with his teacher, I said, "We’re divorcing. Lucas will likely live with his father. Please contact him directly from now on."Could you please pass the phone to Lucas? I need to talk to him."

When the teacher handed the phone to Lucas, my son barked, "Mom, stop causing trouble! Come back already, or Dad might disown you!"

I let out a cold chuckle. "Fine, then. Consider me gone.

"From now on, go to your father when you need something. After we divorce, you won't be staying with me anyway.

"Best to start getting used to that today."

With that, I hung up the phone.

Minutes later, Daniel called, his voice sharp.

"Luna, enough! You skipped the parent-teacher meeting—what kind of mother are you?"

I scoffed. "He’s your son too! If you’re too busy, send Emily. She’s dying to play mommy, isn’t she?"

"Don’t push it!" he snarled, but then Emily’s soft voice drifted in, "Daniel, don’t be hard on Luna. I’ll stay out of your way if she wants."

Daniel’s tone turned icy.

"Nope. I'd rather see how long she can keep this up.

”Luna, mark my words—you brought this on yourself. Don't come crawling back to me in tears."

He hung up abruptly, leaving me to laugh at the absurdity.

He’d forgotten he’d allowed Emily to pick up Lucas, to bribe our son with gifts and ice cream.

No wonder the boy saw me as irrelevant.

I’d confronted them before, but they’d brushed me off, saying I was overreacting.

Lucas grew to despise me, and I’d clung to a crumbling marriage, pretending not to see the cracks.

But then, I just didn't want to pretend anymore, that's all.

The divorce agreement from Daniel had been gathering dust, with no sign of movement.

In the end, I took matters into my own hands, hiring a lawyer to draft the documents, have them printed, and dispatched.

Desperate to untangle myself from the mess, I blocked Daniel’s number without a second thought—his calls had devolved into a relentless stream of blame and recrimination.

Just as I believed the ordeal was finally behind me, an unexpected call lit up my screen.

It was Daniel’s mother, Ariana Scott.

The moment I answered, her voice sliced through the line, dripping with the same condescension I’d always known.

"Heard you're filing for divorce from Daniel?

”I've always said—women like you were born to play second fiddle to my son.

”Be at the mansion tomorrow to settle the assets. The company is Daniel's, so keep your hands off what you didn't earn. And you'll apologize to Emily while you're there."

She delivered the edict like a monarch tossing crumbs to a beggar, cutting me off before I could draw breath.

In Ariana's world, acknowledging my existence was a stain on her aristocratic pedigree.

My brow knitted at the summons. The very idea of stepping foot in that gilded cage made my skin crawl.

However, the divorce settlements really should be discussed.

After all, the company was built up by the two of us working together.

I could choose not to have it, but it's not that they refused to give it to me.

I arrived at the Scott family's mansion to find Daniel, Lucas, and Emily laughing together in the living room.

Daniel looked up, startled. "Luna, what are you doing here?"

Lucas scowled. "This is Dad’s house. Why’d you come?"