Chapter 1 Heartbroken
Charlotte had crashed her car.
As she lay on the operating table, all she could think about was the photo she’d seen right before the accident.
The one of Arthur holding another woman, looking at her like she meant everything to him.
She couldn’t get it out of her head – how gently he held her, the way his eyes lit up.
She’d been so shocked looking at it, she didn’t even see the other car coming.
She might be his wife, but that woman was clearly the one he truly loved.
Five years of marriage, and he’d never once looked at Charlotte that way.
Just thinking about it made her chest
ache.
Now his first love was back in the picture, and Charlotte had to wonder if she even mattered to him anymore.
A thought suddenly crossed her mind. She needed to know if he still had feelings for
her at all.
When she opened her eyes, she was met with a stark white ceiling, and confusion washed over her.
“You’re awake,” a deep, cold voice said from beside her.
Charlotte turned to see a face set like
stone.
His features were sharp and chiseled, his expression impossible to read. Though his eyes seemed capable of warmth, they held none of it now as they stared at her.
Charlotte blinked, confused. “Who are you?”
She looked around, lost. “Where am I?”
Arthur frowned. Those steel–gray eyes of his seemed to pierce right through her.
Unable to bear the weight of his stare, Charlotte retreated behind a facade of
timidity. “W–why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice quivered, not entirely an act. Even now, after everything, his presence could unsettle her so easily.
Arthur looked away almost instantly, his voice as cold as ever. “Nothing. And… I’m just a friend of yours.”
The words hit her like physical blows. Each syllable carved new wounds into her heart, deeper than any knife could reach. Five years – five years of marriage, of carefully molding herself into what she thought he wanted.
All of it reduced to “friend” in a single
breath.
All those years of love and devotion had meant nothing.
Just then, the door opened, and a young boy who looked just like Arthur walked in.
It was Julius Harrison, their son.
He walked straight to Arthur without even looking at her. “Dad, let’s go. Sarah’s waiting for us to watch her show.”
Charlotte gripped the bedsheet tightly, his words hitting her hard.
She gave a bitter laugh. This was her own flesh and blood, the baby she’d carried for nine months. Yet here he was, refusing to even look at her while she lay injured in bed.
Like father, like son – both of them completely wrapped up in Sarah Miller.
People always said boys never really get their mothers. Now she felt the sting of what her own kid had become. Arthur had always been cold, and here was Julius, turning out just like him. At home, he barely acknowledged her, and in public,
heartbroken
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he acted like she was just some housewife
who didn’t matter.
Charlotte felt something inside her go
cold.