Chapter 4

The next morning, Jake was in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast. It was awkward, clumsy.

"Was your phone off last night, Elara? I tried calling." A blatant lie. My call log was empty of his name.

He slid a plate of burnt toast towards me. "There's a prestigious industry awards gala tonight. The 'Apex Achievement Awards.' You should come. We need to present a united front."

As he spoke, a calendar notification popped up on his phone, visible on the kitchen island display: "10th Anniversary - Met J."

Ten years since I met Jake. Not our wedding anniversary, but the day we met. He' d always made a big deal of it.

A massive delivery of roses arrived, filling the foyer. The card, in his handwriting, read: "To many more decades, my love."

I looked at the flowers, then at him.

"I can't," I said. "I have a prior engagement."

I walked out, leaving him with the wilting roses and his burnt toast.

That evening, at the gala, Chloe was a vision.

She was wearing a stunning, avant-garde custom gown.

My gown.

I had designed it years ago, a passion project. Jake had claimed it was "lost in a move."

He' d also said, "It's too avant-garde for company functions, Elara. Too much."

Now, Chloe wore it, and Jake, in a coordinating tuxedo, beamed at her side.

The event host, a smarmy industry type, called them to the stage.

"And now, let's hear from Apex's dynamic duo, CEO Jake Shen and his rising star, Ms. Chloe Wen! We all saw those incredible pictures from Napa!"

Laughter and applause.

Jake took the microphone, his arm around Chloe' s waist.

"I've always wanted to give Elara the world," he began, his eyes scanning the room, looking for me. He hadn't seen me yet, tucked away at a side table.

Suddenly, Chloe swayed, her hand flying to her stomach. She leaned heavily against Jake.

"Oh," she whispered, loud enough for the microphone to catch. "I feel a bit dizzy. It must be... you know." She gave a coy look.

The implication was clear. Pregnancy.

Jake rushed to her side, all concern. "Are you okay, darling?"

Flashback: A client event, years ago. Jake, pressuring me to drink champagne. "Just one glass, Elara, don't be a spoilsport."

He knew champagne triggered severe migraines for me.

The stress, the alcohol, led to an early miscarriage. Our first attempt at a family.

He' d dismissed it. "You're being overly dramatic, Elara. These things happen."

He never knew how much it broke me.