chapter 1

My live-in husband, Andrew Morton, has been living with diabetes for ten years.

For him, I spent years learning everything about nutrition, planning every balanced meal, and cooking three times a day with my own hands—every single day for 10 long years.

But at our daughter's birthday party, the man who'd avoided sugar for 10 years suddenly demanded a slice of watermelon.

When I tried to stop him, he snapped, saying I was controlling and should let him live his own life. Then he shouted that he wanted a divorce.

I signed the divorce agreement right away, then called my best friend and said, "I want him to walk away with nothing—penniless, ruined, and disgraced."

…

Our daughter, Juliet Morton, said, "Dad, Mom said you can't eat watermelon. You shouldn't."

"Your mom's just joking, Juliet. It's just one slice of watermelon—why can't I have it? Juliet, don't tell her, okay?"

I stood behind them and, at the right moment, said, "Andrew, you can't eat that."

Andrew turned immediately, his face shifting between ingratiating, embarrassed, and annoyed.

Within seconds, his expression shifted several times before settling into a tight, uneasy smile.

"Monica, it's just one small slice. Come on."

"No. This is my final word."

It was one of the rare times I had ever refused him so firmly. Andrew's strained smile finally disappeared, and he threw his fork onto the table.

The loud clatter drew the attention of my parents and the rest of our relatives.

"Monica, what are you doing? It's Juliet's birthday. Why ruin the mood over a slice of watermelon?" Mom said quickly, trying to smooth things over.

"Yeah, Monica, how bossy can you be? Andrew just wants one bite of watermelon, and you're making a scene!"

One of the relatives scoffed and smirked. "Come on, Monica, you're way too uptight. Let him have a bite. Poor Andrew, it must be hard living with her…"

"Monica, if people hear about this, what will they think of our family?"

The relatives all started talking at once—some mocking, some defending Andrew while scolding me, others just watching for the drama.

"Enough, Monica! Stop making a scene! My son-in-law works day and night for the company.

"He's the backbone of our business. What's wrong with eating a slice of watermelon?" In the end, Dad chimed in, and just as expected, he took Andrew's side.

To them, Andrew, the ambitious live-in son-in-law, was worth far more than their own biological daughter.

"Andrew, you have diabetes. They might not know, but you do," I said evenly, scanning the room before fixing my eyes on him.

"You and I both know you can't handle anything sweet. You've managed to resist everything else—so why not this slice of watermelon?"

"Well… It's just hot today. I know my body, Monica. One bite won't hurt."

His tone was edged with impatience, but underneath it was something uneasy, almost guilty—like he was trying, and failing, to hide something from me.

"Is that so? Is it really because it's hot—or because this watermelon just happens to be grown by your childhood sweetheart, Elise Alexander?"

I locked my eyes on his and caught it—that quick flash of panic in his gaze.