Chapter 1
When Henry Foster found out I was pregnant, the disgust on his face was impossible to hide.
He had "picked me up" off the street.
Back then, I looked like a beggar. The only thing I had going for me was my face—it bore an uncanny, eight-out-of-ten resemblance to his first love, Claire Sullivan.
He had just broken up with Claire, so he brought me home without a second thought.
He made me wear Claire's clothes and style my hair the way she did.
I never resisted.
I was as obedient as a puppet.
Henry was pleased.
He was used to being in control. And when it came to a replacement, the more obedient, the better.
For three years, I played my part to perfection.
And somehow, I managed to carve out a place in his heart.
Later, he needed a wife to help him expand his social circle, so I naturally became Mrs. Foster.
Then came the news that Claire was returning to the country.
It was like a bomb detonating on the fragile illusion of love we had built.
"Henry… I don't want anything. I'm only asking you not to send me away."
I tilted my face up, putting on my most pitiful expression.
Usually, that was enough.
Henry would relax his brow, then slowly run his fingers over my features, tracing my brows and eyes again and again.
In the end, he would give me whatever I asked for.
But today, he looked away.
His voice was cold.
"Samantha, your greatest strength is knowing when to back off."
My heart sank.
The tears froze at the corners of my eyes.
"I can agree to it. But give me three days to pack my things. Once I leave the Foster family home, I'll sign."
Henry had no objections.
When he dropped me off at home, his gaze lingered on my lower abdomen for a few seconds.
There was something complicated in his eyes.
I couldn't read it.
But in the end, he still spoke.
"Get rid of it as soon as possible. Claire doesn't like it."
My hand instinctively covered my belly.
Before I could say a word, Henry's car had already disappeared into the night.
I knew exactly where he was headed.
He was going to the airport to pick up Claire.
If I hadn't been surrounded by reporters, he probably would have been waiting at the airport long ago.
Mr. Foster valued his time like money.
And apparently, Claire was the only person worth wasting it on.
A dull ache spread through my chest, but I forced myself not to care.
'If I couldn't have Henry's love, at least I could have his money. That's enough.'
Or so I told myself.
But the moment I stepped into the mansion and looked around at the place where we had lived together for three years, I still couldn't stop myself from biting down on my lower lip, trying to use the pain to hold back my tears.
"Miss Parker, would you like us to help you pack?"
The housekeeper's form of address caught me off guard.
It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me.
I hadn't even signed the divorce papers yet, and they had already changed the way they addressed me.
I had barely stepped through the door, and they were already eager to help me pack my bags.
'Henry Foster… Are you really that eager to make room for Claire?'
"Miss Parker?"
The housekeeper called my name again when I didn't respond.
I shook my head and forced a smile.
"No. I'll do it myself."
For the three years I lived with the Foster family, Henry and I had never shared a bedroom.
Whenever he wanted me, it felt like I was there to serve him.
I would shower, make myself presentable, and go to him.
Once he was done, I would return to my own room and sleep alone.
So my bedroom had always been the one at the very end of the second floor.
I didn't turn on the lights.
The evening breeze stirred the curtains.
Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the designer handbags and luxury goods filling the closet.
I gently rested a hand over my belly and murmured,
"Henry, your only strength is being generous."
