Chapter 1

chapter1

“Congratulations, you are one month pregnant. Everything looks normal.”

Mia Bowen stared at the pregnancy test results as she walked back to her marital home, feeling as though she were in a trance. Was this real? Was she actually going to be a mother?

She summoned her courage and sent a text to her husband, Timothy Barrett: “Will you be coming home for dinner tonight?”

The wait felt like an eternity. Timothy had always detested being disturbed at work, and she feared her message would vanish into the void like so many before it. To her surprise, her phone buzzed almost immediately.

Timothy’s reply was curt: “Yeah. I have something to tell you.”

Mia rushed to the market, her heart light for the first time in years. She carefully prepared a feast. She placed the pregnancy results on the dining table, then hesitated and flipped the paper over—she didn’t want to be too obvious.

As evening fell, a black limousine swept into the courtyard. Timothy stepped out, his suit jacket draped casually over his arm. He was tall and strikingly handsome, but his expression was as cold as the marble in the foyer.

“Timothy, you’re back.” Mia hurried to meet him, reaching out to take his jacket. Instead, he handed her a thick envelope. A flicker of confusion crossed her face.

“Take a look at this. If you have any requests, let me know,” he said flatly.

Mia pulled the papers out. The heading at the top of the first page felt like a physical blow: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. The stark white paper seemed to burn her eyes.

Timothy loosened his tie, exhaustion etched into his features. He looked down at Mia, taking in her youthful face and the soft "baby fat" that made her look more like a student than a wife. He felt nothing for her. He had only married her because his grandmother adored her, and the marriage had served its purpose—his grandmother’s health had stabilized. To him, staying married now was simply a waste of Mia’s youth.

Mia placed a trembling hand over her stomach. “If—and this is just hypothetical—I told you I was pregnant, would you still go through with this?”

Timothy’s gaze dropped to her belly. He frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to take the morning-after pill after that night?”

That night—a month ago—had been the only accident in three years of separate bedrooms.

Mia pulled her hand away as if she had been burned. Timothy’s gaze darkened as he grabbed her wrist. “Are you actually pregnant?”

Mia’s breath hitched. “I asked you a question. If I were, would you want the baby?”

“No.”

Timothy sighed, his voice weary. There was no point in bringing a child into a loveless marriage. He had seen the damage that caused firsthand with his own parents.

Mia felt her heart hollow out. She watched him walk away toward the study, and she tilted her head back to force the tears to stay in her eyes. The food she had poured her soul into sat cooling on the table. Eventually, she stood up and scraped it all into the trash, the smell of the grease suddenly making her nauseous.

She rubbed her belly gently. “Your daddy may not want you,” she whispered to the empty room, “but I will protect you with everything I have.”

An orphan who had been discarded by her adoptive parents, Mia’s greatest wish was a family. She had tried to melt Timothy’s heart for three years, but a rock was still a rock. Now, she wouldn't be alone anymore.

She didn't bother reading the terms. She flipped to the final page and signed her name.

That night, she slept in the master bedroom while Timothy stayed in the study. It was just like the last three years—together, yet worlds apart.