The Wife He Buried, the Son I Saved

When I was seven months pregnant, I found an expired asset transfer agreement in a hidden compartment in Nathan Cole’s study. Twenty percent of Cole Group’s shares, worth billions, along with three overseas estates and a private island. All of it was to be given, free of charge, to my stepsister, Sophie Bennett. But when Nathan married me, all he handed me was a prenup. “It’s a business marriage. Just a formality,” he’d said casually. “Sign it.” I signed, entering the Cole family with nothing. After ten years of marriage, I didn’t even know the PIN to his bank card. “Who gave you permission to come into my study?” Nathan’s voice came from the doorway, cold as ice. I turned to face the man I had loved for fifteen years. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I simply said, “Nathan, let’s get a divorce.” He strode over, snatched the agreement from my hands, and flung it across the floor. “You’re making a scene over ancient history?” He didn’t offer another word of explanation. He just angrily told me to get out. He was right about one thing. This was a business marriage. And it was time for me to leave. I quietly scheduled an abortion at the hospital. As I stared at the appointment on my screen, my abdomen began cramping uncontrollably. Bracing myself against the bedroom wall, I slowly sank to the floor and fought back tears as I messaged my lawyer. He called immediately. “Mrs. Cole, are you absolutely sure you want to waive all claims to marital assets and walk away with nothing?” “Under family law, a pregnant spouse may be entitled to—” Marital assets? I couldn’t help letting out a bitter laugh. What marital assets? The shares Nathan had acquired over the years were held under other people’s names. Every asset in his name had been legally protected before our marriage. My name had never appeared on the list of beneficiaries of the family trust. On the day we got engaged, he’d casually told me he wouldn’t marry a woman who expected handouts. He wasn’t about to give away everything he had fought so hard to earn just because he was getting married. Back then, I thought he was simply resentful that my father had pressured him into marrying me. I also knew how hard he’d fought against his father’s other sons to take control of Cole Group. So I obediently signed my name over and over on a thick stack of documents waiving my financial rights. I thought that one day, he would finally let go of his resentment and truly see me. It wasn’t until I saw that asset transfer agreement that I understood what a fool I had been. Every item listed in it matched something he had once made me sign away. It wasn’t that he refused to share what he owned. I simply wasn’t the wife he wanted to share it with. “Mr. Parker,” I interrupted, “please draw up the divorce papers. I just want to leave.” My hands were still shaking when I hung up. Not from doubt. From anger. Ten years of marriage had been one long con, and I had willingly played the fool. The code to the hidden compartment in Nathan’s study was Sophie’s birthday. He was willing to share everything he had with her, yet the spending limit on my supplementary credit card never exceeded five hundred dollars a month. Even when I was seven months pregnant and vomiting until I could barely stand, he was helping Sophie host a private art exhibition. And the most ridiculous part? I had designed their love nest myself. Three months earlier, Nathan had brought me a set of blueprints and forced me to work despite my severe pregnancy symptoms. “A friend bought a villa for his girlfriend. Put together a top-of-the-line design as quickly as you can.” Looking back, that “friend” was Nathan himself. And the sweeping “SB” on the resident’s signature line clearly stood for Sophie Bennett. The divorce papers arrived that evening. My lawyer made one final attempt to persuade me. “Mrs. Cole, at least keep the portion you earned yourself…” I shook my head. Nathan hadn’t contributed a cent to our household expenses over the years. Everything I earned had already gone into maintaining our home. Now I wondered if that was why Nathan thought so little of me. As I signed, the baby kicked fiercely, as though protesting—or trying to comfort me. In the end, I couldn’t hold it back. I cried.With Mr. Parker’s help, I rented an apartment that same afternoon. I didn’t care about the neighborhood or the layout. I just wanted to move out as soon as possible. It was eight that evening by the time I returned to the Cole mansion. Pregnancy fatigue had left me barely able to straighten my back, but I still made one last dinner. Four dishes and a soup. All Nathan’s favorites. After ten years, I knew every one of his tastes and preferences better than I knew my own. Whatever our ending might be, I had loved him for fifteen years. I wanted us to part on decent terms. But Nathan didn’t come home until one in the morning. He smelled of Sophie’s favorite perfume, and a glaring lipstick mark stained his collar. I watched quietly as he loosened his tie. That was when I noticed his bare ring finger. At some point, without my even realizing it, he had stopped wearing his wedding ring. He glanced at the untouched food on the table, now obviously cold, and frowned out of habit. There was no warmth in his eyes. Only unmistakable irritation. “What is this, another guilt trip? You think this will make me give in?” He took off his jacket, tossed it onto the couch, and headed for the stairs without another glance at me. “Nathan.” My voice was so calm it surprised even me. “The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them.” He stopped. When he turned around, his eyes were full of contempt. “Over one expired, invalid agreement? Claire, when did you become this unreasonable?” “Your father used the fact that you saved my life to pressure me into marrying you. What choice did I have?” “Sophie has a heart condition. I just wanted to give her something to wish her well. It was a gesture!” A wish. A gesture. How ridiculous. Two careless words, enough for him to dismiss all my pain and struggle. Suddenly, I understood. There had never been some great obstacle standing between us. He simply had never loved me. Fifteen years ago, on a rainy night, his half brothers had been hunting him down. I hid him in a storage room for three whole days. I secretly brought him food and medicine every day. Those men nearly beat me to death, too. He had held my hand and said, “Claire, once I take control of the Cole family, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve.” Later, he seized control of the family with ruthless efficiency. And the grand wedding he had promised me came with a cold, calculating prenup. “Nathan.” I supported my belly as I slowly stood. “So you do remember that you owe me your life.” He froze, then sneered. “Oh, so now you want to keep score? Fine. Name your price. How much?” Name your price. I gave a bitter smile. The last warm corner of my heart finally went cold. “There’s no need. Nathan, I really am ending this.” “I want the signed divorce papers on the living room table by nine tomorrow morning.” It took every ounce of strength I had to keep my voice steady. Then I turned and went upstairs without looking at his face. Behind me came the crash of something shattering and his furious roar. “Claire Bennett! You’d better not regret this!” Regret? What I regretted most was opening that storage room door on that rainy night fifteen years ago.When I went downstairs the next morning, the living room was empty. The divorce papers had been torn to shreds and scattered across the expensive handmade rug. My heart clenched at the sight, then settled back into numb silence. Apparently, this was Nathan’s answer. He couldn’t be bothered to explain, but he wouldn’t let me go. My phone lit up with a new message. From Sophie. A little over a month earlier, she had suddenly added me on Snapchat again. Her first message had been: “Claire, long time no see. I’m back. Nathan picked me up at the airport. He hasn’t changed a bit.” After that, my phone had become a window into her happy little life. Nathan accompanying her to art exhibitions. Nathan serving her food. A photo taken inside Nathan’s car, with her bare leg deliberately in the frame… And yesterday, she had sent me a voice message. In the background, I could clearly hear Nathan impatiently ending a call. “Claire? Ignore her. She’s always making a big deal out of nothing. Just enjoy the paintings.” The latest message had arrived ten minutes earlier. A photo. Nathan was asleep in her bed, his face peaceful against the familiar star-patterned bedding in her room. The caption read: “Claire, I heard you went through Nathan’s things in his study and upset him?” “That agreement was something he gave me ages ago to cheer me up when I was sick. It’s been invalid for years. Don’t get the wrong idea.” “But you really do look like I used to. Especially your eyes. Nathan said that was the first thing he noticed when he met you.” “Oh, and how’s the baby? Nathan says he hopes the baby has my eyes.” A cold wave of nausea rose in my throat. I rushed into the bathroom and began retching violently. Nothing in my pregnancy had made me feel this sick. I gripped the sink and stared at my pale face and red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. These eyes… Was that why? Because they looked like hers? Fifteen years of first love. Ten years of marriage. All of it had begun with a man longing for a different woman. And I was nothing more than a poor substitute. His second choice. Tears finally spilled down my face. With trembling hands, I replied to Sophie. “You’ve always liked picking up things I no longer want. Keep them. Nathan included.” The message went through. Almost immediately, Nathan called. I didn’t answer. I hung up and blocked his number. The world fell silent. I held my tightening belly and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. I called a moving company, then quietly began packing my belongings. My clothes. My design sketches. The basic kitchenware and small appliances I had bought… Everything I had purchased, everything that carried a piece of me, went into boxes. As for the expensive jewelry, gowns, and handbags, Nathan had bought most of them to make sure I looked the part of Mrs. Cole. I didn’t take a single one. Even my wedding ring lay quietly on the vanity after I took it off. The movers arrived soon and loaded more than a dozen boxes into their truck. Before leaving, I took one last look at the mansion where I had spent ten years. Beautiful. Cold. A carefully constructed prison. And I had served my sentence. My new apartment was small, but it was full of sunlight. It took me an entire day to put everything away. My body ached, and I felt a faint pressure low in my belly, but there was a strange lightness in my heart. That evening, I received a text from an unknown number. It was Nathan. “Claire, come home immediately. We can pretend none of this happened.” “Sophie isn’t well. Stop harassing and upsetting her.” “And you’re having that baby. A Cole child will not be raised outside this family.” I stared at the message, almost laughing through my tears. Even now, all he cared about was Sophie’s feelings and the Cole bloodline. Whether I was hurting or dying didn’t matter. I didn’t reply. I deleted the message and blocked that number, too.The day before my procedure, I went to the hospital for a final examination. In the ultrasound room, cold gel spread across my belly as the technician gently moved the probe. The doctor pointed at the screen. “Your baby is very healthy. Look, there’s a little hand. And there’s a foot…” The tiny figure on the screen moved, and something twisted painfully inside my chest. My voice caught. “Doctor, if I go through with the induction now, will the baby feel pain?” The older doctor adjusted her glasses and looked at me with a complicated expression. “At this stage, an induction can take a serious toll on your body. And… the baby can feel pain now.” She gently rested a hand on my belly. “Are you sure this is what you want? You have a very active little one.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My legs felt unsteady as I left the examination room. But at the end of the hospital corridor, I saw the last person I wanted to see. Nathan stood there in a tailored suit, still every inch the CEO who believed he controlled everything. “Come home.” He grabbed my wrist so hard I thought he might crush the bones. “Stop this.” “Stop this?” I looked up at him. “Nathan, do you think I’m playing games?” “That agreement expired years ago.” His voice was impatient. “Sophie has a heart condition. I only wanted to give her something to wish her well—” “So I’m supposed to be a stepping stone in your love story?” I wrenched my hand free. “Nathan, do you remember the year we got married, when I had a fever of a hundred and four? You said you were too busy to come home. Then I saw Sophie’s Snapchat story. You were skiing together in Switzerland.” “On our third wedding anniversary, you said you had a meeting. But your car was in one of Sophie’s selfies.” “Every time I had a prenatal appointment, you were too busy. Yet you had time to take her to exhibitions, buy her jewelry, and celebrate every birthday.” I listed them one by one, my voice so calm I could have been telling someone else’s story. Nathan’s expression finally changed. “You… knew all along?” “I never said anything. Every time, I just told myself to give you one more chance. To believe in you one more time.” I smiled, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “Until I saw that agreement. Then I finally understood what a joke I was.” He went silent. For the first time, I saw something resembling guilt in his eyes. But it was too late. Far too late. “I’m keeping the baby,” I said softly. “But it has nothing to do with you.” “From now on, neither my child nor I have anything to do with you, Nathan.” Then I turned and walked away. He didn’t follow. For the next few days, I shut out the world and rested in my apartment. My lawyer told me Nathan refused to agree to the divorce. “Mrs. Cole, if you want to proceed, we’ll have to take it to court. Given your pregnancy, the court may encourage mediation first.” “And Mr. Cole has made it clear that if you insist on litigation, he has ways of securing custody.” Mr. Parker sounded uncomfortable. I held the phone and stayed silent for a long time. I knew Nathan could do it. He had money and connections. And apart from the child in my belly, I had nothing left. “Mr. Parker, how long would a contested divorce take?” “If he fights it and uses his resources to delay things, it could drag on for years.” Years? I couldn’t wait that long. My baby couldn’t be born into that kind of uncertainty and endless conflict. I had to make Nathan agree to the divorce himself.