### Chapter 1 In the dimly lit sanctuary of Crest Villa, shadows danced across the walls, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Brandon Watson's heart. As he leaned closer to Millie Bennett, brushing his lips against the small beauty mark nestled on her chest, an inexplicable calmness enveloped them. But this tranquility dissolved as he whispered words that shattered their fragile peace: “Let’s get a divorce.” Millie, still panting from their intimate rendezvous, turned to him, disbelief etched across her features. A year of marriage had woven their lives together, and now, he was unraveling the very fabric of their existence with a single, chilling declaration. “What do you mean?” she questioned, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear. Brandon's gaze hardened as he lit a cigarette. The smoke spiraled upwards, twisting in the air like the confusion clouding Millie’s mind. “She has stomach cancer,” he stated bluntly, his voice cold and detached. “Only six months left to live.” He inhaled deeply, exhaling a cloud as if to mask the gravity of his next words. “Her final wish is to be my wife.” Millie was left gaping, her breath catching in her throat. The silence that followed was a dense fog, heavy enough to suffocate, as the dim bedside lamp flickered, casting elongated shadows that distorted reality. In that moment, the distance between them felt insurmountable. Brandon flicked his ash, his expression a mixture of frustration and impatience. “It’s only to comfort her,” he explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “We’ll remarry after six months. She won’t be here long, Millie.” The finality of his words crushed her spirit, forcing her to confront the unrelenting truth: their love had always been one-sided, a lopsided equation where she had been the constant, pouring her heart into a relationship that had flickered with indifference. For seven relentless years, Millie had stood as his steadfast ally, a lighthouse in storms that often threatened to pull them apart. She recalled the time she had faced her stepfather’s wrath and how bravely Brandon had stood between them, wielding nothing more than a splintered stick, his fierce resolve promising her safety amid her fears. That moment had carved itself into her heart, igniting a devotion that never ceased, even as he started to drift away into his own world. However, after their wedding day, that spark began to dim. The warmth of their once-vibrant connection had turned to icy indifference. Millie found herself questioning her worth, the weight of Brandon's dismissive glances sending ripples of doubt through her soul. “Does it have to be like this?” she dared to venture, her voice soft yet resolute. He turned away, seemingly uninterested in her pain, refocusing the conversation on his new fiancée’s plight. “What about me?” Millie’s heart clenched at the desperation woven into her question, searching his dark eyes for any trace of the affection that once lit their lives like a beacon. Brandon’s unwavering gaze bore into her, but no flicker of sympathy met her pleading. Instead, he laid bare his twisted rationale. “Millie, she’s dying. Maybe you don’t understand, but she’s in love with me. Because we were married, she didn’t want to hurt you, so she never let things go too far between us. I tried to make it right, yet she never allowed me—she’s a good person. Please, let her have this. Don’t force me to think you’re heartless.” His calm demeanor struck her deeper than a thunderous shout. In his world, a woman loving a married man was a saint, while the wife yearning for her husband's heart was the villain. Millie’s gaze bore into Brandon’s face—the face she had loved deeply, with its intense eyes and sculpted features. When had it all started to unravel? Perhaps it was the day she became aware of the other woman lurking in Brandon’s life. “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, steadying her voice despite the chaos inside. Brandon’s lips pursed, indecision momentarily flickering across his features. But as he opened his mouth to affirm his intentions, she cut him off mid-sentence. “Alright.” Surprise flashed across his face, quickly overshadowed by a frown. “Millie, you’re getting clever,” he remarked, irritation creeping into his tone. “You know I need your consent to go through with it. Are you trying to play games with me?” Millie remained silent, her focus diverted to the stark white wall, her mind a tempest of emotions. Brandon extinguished his cigarette, hastily dressing before storming out, his departure like a sudden gust of wind that dismantled the fragile structure of her heart. He didn’t linger to consider the humiliation or anguish his request had wrought, utterly confident in his belief that she could never truly leave him. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the emptiness, leaving Millie alone in the dim light. She sat frozen beside the bed, staring at the door as if willing it to open again. The familiar buzz of her phone jolted her back to reality. Picking it up, she noticed a message illuminating the screen from a number she recognized all too well. "He came to see me again." A photo accompanied the text, displaying Brandon’s face reflected in a glass door, a warm, soft smile gracing his lips—an expression she had never been fortunate enough to receive. Frozen in shock, she scrolled back through the previous messages, each one slicing deeper into her already wounded heart. “He said he has feelings for me.” “Rainy nights aren’t lonely for me because he’s here with me. What about you? The one who isn’t loved is truly the other woman. Millie, you were never his first choice; you were just the one he settled for. He sees beauty the way I do, shares my taste in things, and he loves me.” The messages continued in this cruel manner, reinforcing Brandon’s betrayal. Millie’s heart sank as she read those words, realizing the man who had treated her with such cold distance had seemingly mastered the art of tenderness for someone else. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled to the first message: “You should know who I am. Do you like the flowers in your living room today? I sent them. He said they were beautiful.” Of course, she knew who it was—Vivian Simpson, the renowned floral designer known for gracing the lavish villas of the wealthy with her artistic arrangements. Millie had shown Brandon the messages before, but he had brushed them off, dismissing them as unsubstantiated whispers. He had suggested that perhaps she was spinning tales to stir trouble. Most of the messages lacked solid proof, but today’s was irrefutable. As she contemplated confronting him with the damning photograph, her gaze drifted to the bedside drawer. She reached down, pulling it open to reveal the pregnancy test result—the news that would change everything. She was pregnant with Brandon’s child, caught in the worst possible moment. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the ink as they fell onto the paper, yet the emotional weight felt almost moot. Brandon’s heart had wandered long before this revelation. Millie wiped her tears away and picked up the lighter Brandon had forgotten, a sense of resolve igniting within her. The flames flickered as she held the test result to the fire, watching it curl and burn. He had no idea that agreeing to the divorce would be the final act of love she would ever render to him. She had returned what she owed—not in currency, but in the seven full years of her life she had devoted to their union. Millie vowed in that moment that she would never love him again.