Chapter 1

The morning I found out I was pregnant, my husband was photographed carrying his "business partner" out of a hotel at 3 AM.

The headline read: "Colton Steel, NYC's youngest billionaire, and supermodel Reign Carter — a love story three years in the making."

Three years.

That's exactly how long I'd been married to him.

I set my phone on the bathroom counter, next to the pregnancy test with its two unmistakable pink lines.

Two pink lines. One satisfying headline. Zero missed calls from my husband.

It was supposed to be our anniversary today.

I had made reservations at Eleven Madison Park — the restaurant where he proposed. I'd bought a new dress, the emerald one he once said made my eyes look like sea glass.

I had planned to tell him about the baby over dessert.

Instead, I was sitting on the cold tile floor of our penthouse bathroom, reading comments from strangers.

"They look so good together."

"Who's his wife again? Some nobody?"

"She should just step aside gracefully."

My phone buzzed. Finally, a text from Colton.

「Running late. Don't wait up. Business dinner.」

Business dinner.

I almost laughed.

I pulled up the article again and zoomed in on the photo. His hand was on her waist. Her head was on his shoulder. His jacket was draped over her like she was something precious.

He never draped his jacket over me.

In three years of marriage, Colton Steel had given me a penthouse I wasn't allowed to redecorate, a black credit card I was told to use "reasonably," and a contract that said our marriage would last five years — or until he decided otherwise.

I was the contract wife. The placeholder. The girl from nowhere who got lucky.

That's what his mother told me at our wedding reception, her smile sharp as a blade.

"Don't get too comfortable, dear. Colton has always loved Reign. You're just... convenient timing."

I didn't believe her then.

I believed her now.

I picked up the pregnancy test, wrapped it in tissue, and placed it in the drawer beside my bed.

Then I opened my laptop and searched: "Best divorce attorneys in Manhattan."

The first result had a five-star rating and a tagline that read: "We don't just end marriages. We end eras."

I scheduled a consultation for 9 AM.

Then I took off the emerald dress, hung it back in the closet, and went to bed.

Alone.

Like every other anniversary.

At 2 AM, I heard the front door open. The heavy footsteps, the clink of keys on the marble counter, the sigh of a man who thought his wife was asleep.

Then his phone rang.

He answered on the first ring — something he never did for me.

"Hey." His voice was soft. Tender. A voice I hadn't heard directed at me in over a year. "Yeah, I'm home. She's asleep."

A pause.

"I know. I'll handle it. Just give me a little more time."

Another pause. Then, quieter:

"You know you're the only one, Reign. You've always been the only one."

The bedroom door was cracked open just enough for every word to reach me.

I lay perfectly still, eyes wide open in the dark.

My hand drifted to my stomach.

You've always been the only one.

Then what am I?

What are we?