Chapter 3

After finally consoling my mother-in-law and sending her home, a mutual friend texted me saying Summer wanted to see me.

Summer. The girl who had saved my husband and taken him to the ER. Now that she was pregnant, the last thing I wanted was to meet her—if anything happened to her or the baby, I'd take the blame. I turned down the invitation without a second thought. But the friend insisted Summer was desperate to speak with me; she was already waiting at a downtown café and swore she wouldn't leave until I showed up.

These two were truly the banes of my existence. Cursing under my breath, I hailed a cab and headed over. The moment I walked through the doors, I spotted Summer sitting by the window.

To be fair, I didn't actually hate Summer.

Some of our friends called her a homewrecker, but I always maintained that the fault lay entirely with Ethan.

Summer was, in a way, caught in the crossfire. She had done a good deed by saving an injured man, only to have him fall madly in love with her at first sight.

And I knew Ethan. I knew the lengths he would go to when he pursued someone. He had wealth, looks, and status, while Summer was just a fresh college graduate. Bombarded by sweet words, grand romantic gestures, and relentless devotion, even a heart of stone would have melted.

Summer wore a soft, pastel dress. Her loose curls caught the afternoon sunlight, making her look tender and sweet, though her face was noticeably pale.

"Chloe, thank you for coming," she said, her voice as delicate as her appearance.

Everyone who knew both of us said Summer and I were polar opposites. She was an art major—gentle, soft-spoken, looking like the romantic lead of an old indie music video.

I, on the other hand, had been a field botanist trekking through deep wilderness before I met Ethan. Leading expeditions at a young age had forged me into a tough, uncompromising person. Back then, Ethan hadn't fully taken over the family conglomerate yet; he was just an adrenaline-seeking rich boy who spent a fortune to tag along on our research trek. Along the way, I gave the spoiled heir endless hell for his total lack of survival skills.

When he first pursued me, I turned him down flat. I loved the thrill of exploring remote rainforests and rugged mountains. Being a trophy wife might be someone else's dream, but it was never mine.

Yet Ethan knew how to play on human vulnerabilities. He offered me what I had never experienced: the warmth of a loving family. His parents were wonderful people who truly treated me like a daughter. And he promised me that marriage would never clip my wings; he swore he would be my steadfast anchor, supporting my work.

It was all a lie. When we first married, I kept working in the field. But when he started begging for children, I considered stepping back and transferring to a quiet lab. Just as the transfer paperwork was being processed, the accident happened. He lost his memory.

My marital vows wouldn't allow me to abandon an injured partner, so I stayed in that lab, continuing my research while weathering three years of his relentless divorce demands.

Looking back, it was high time to let go. I genuinely missed the life I had before tying myself down.