"Something came up at work. I can't make it for Annie's birthday tonight."

I calmly closed the chat window with my husband. Then I opened my social media feed and saw the photo he'd just been tagged in: Ethan, my husband, holding another woman's son, both of them beaming with joy.

My five-year-old daughter leaned against me, her voice a small whisper.

"Mommy, my birthday wish this year is… to never see Daddy again."

So, even a child could see it. The man who was always "too busy" for her school events was the same man who would move heaven and earth for someone else's kid.

1.

It was two in the morning when Ethan finally came home. The sudden glare of the headlights slicing through the window made me instinctively cover my daughter’s eyes.

He leaned against the bedroom doorframe. "Honey, I'm home. Why don't you wake Annie up? We can still celebrate her birthday."

I used to be obsessed with these family rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, even the smallest school function—I'd insist Ethan be there. I didn't want Annie to grow up like I did, knowing her father only through a phone screen.

But now—

I smoothed the blanket over my daughter, my voice flat. "Don't bother."

A flash of annoyance crossed Ethan's face. "Chloe, I was just putting Leo to bed. That's it. Don't read into it. This is exactly why I can't be honest with you, because you're always so suspicious."

I wasn't reading into it. And from now on, I wouldn't be suspicious either.

"If you're done, please go to your own room. Don't wake Annie. She has school in the morning."

He let out a cold laugh. "Fine. But don't come crying to me later, saying I'm an absent father."

I turned away and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of my daughter, who had stirred from the noise.

Absent? It didn't matter anymore. After all, Annie's birthday wish was to never see him again.

The next morning, Ethan didn't leave immediately after breakfast as he usually did. He sat at the table, watching the morning news. Just as we were about to leave, he stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked over to us, ruffling Annie's hair.

"Daddy's taking you to school today."

He was speaking to our daughter, but his eyes were fixed on me.

Two years ago, when Annie first started preschool, Ethan drove her every single day. But after Stella arrived, he started leaving earlier and earlier, claiming his morning meetings had been moved up. I believed him, right up until three months ago, when I was at Annie's new school and saw him. The man who was supposed to be in a board meeting was leaning over to lift a little boy out of the backseat of his car.

It wasn't that he didn't have time to take his daughter to school. It was just that he had something more important to do.

We had a terrible fight that night. The next day, Annie stopped asking for him to take her.

Even though I had already decided on a divorce, he was still her father. I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. A small, triumphant smile touched his lips as he scooped Annie into his arms.

When he opened the car door, I froze.

The backseat was a mess of someone else's life. A Spider-Man water bottle, a toy bow and arrow set, a woman's shawl tossed carelessly on the leather. Tucked into the seatback pocket was a framed "family photo."

He followed my gaze, and his expression soured. "Stella put that there. She said it makes Leo happy." He shot me a warning look. "Don't start. It's not a big deal."

The old me would have shattered the frame, would have screamed and cried and demanded to know where Annie and I stood in his heart.

But the new me just nodded. "It's a nice picture."

He stared at me, confused. "You're not angry?"

Angry? Maybe I should have been. But all I felt was a vast, hollow emptiness. It was almost funny. How could a man as sharp as Ethan not see through such a clumsy, transparently manipulative tactic?

The answer was simple. He saw it. He just didn't care.

"We should go," I said. "Annie's going to be late."

His lips tightened, but he said nothing, just opened the driver's side door. As I was about to lift Annie into her car seat, his phone rang. The ringtone was a cheesy children's song.

"My dad is the best dad, the best dad in the world..."

A little boy's frantic sobs filled the air. "Daddy! Daddy! Where did you go? Don't you want me and Mommy anymore?"

Ethan hung up and, without a single glance in our direction, slid into the driver's seat. "Leo's asking for me. I'll have the driver take you today."

The black Maybach sped away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I knelt down, worried about Annie. "Daddy had an emergency, sweetheart. Next time he's free, we'll all go together, okay?"

Annie looked at me, her expression startlingly mature for a five-year-old. "Daddy's never free, Mommy. All his time is for Leo and his mommy."

2.

That evening, Ethan called. "Chloe, I'm going to be late tonight. Leo's sick..."

"Okay."

My response was so quick that his excuses died in his throat. He must have thought I was being difficult, because his tone sharpened with annoyance. "Chloe, don't be like this."

Then he hung up.

Ten minutes later, a series of texts came through.

[I'm so sorry, Chloe. Leo has been so clingy with his dad lately.]

[But honestly, he shouldn't have just abandoned you and Annie the moment I called.]

[I'll have a word with him. Don't be mad.]

It was Stella. The texts weren't an apology; they were a declaration of war.

I had no interest in fighting her for a man. I deleted the messages and blocked her number.

A moment later, my phone rang again. It was Ethan.

"Chloe, what the hell is your problem? Stella apologizes to you, and that's how you treat her?" In the background, I could hear the faint sound of a woman and child crying.

I said nothing. After a long silence, his voice came again, low and cold.

"I don't know who you've become, Chloe. I'm so disappointed in you."

Stella had started it, but the moment she cried, Ethan always made me the villain.

Back home, I started packing. While Ethan had been on the phone, I'd been consulting with my lawyer. Upon divorce, I was entitled to at least 30% of his company's shares. And in a custody battle, with our circumstances being similar, the mother is typically favored.

There was nothing left to hold me back.

I packed my clothes, my bags, my jewelry, and all of Annie's favorite toys. As I sealed the last box, my hands trembled. My eyes fell on a dusty, wax-sealed trunk I hadn't touched in years.

It was full of love letters.

From the Ethan who was seventeen, eighteen, all the way to twenty-two.

I broke the seal and opened the one on top.

It began: To the 27-year-old Chloe, from the 17-year-old Ethan.

This is the first love letter I've ever written you. As we agreed, we'll open this together in ten years. By then, we'll definitely be married. Maybe we'll even have a beautiful child.

My phone rang again. It was the 27-year-old Ethan.

"Chloe! Stella took Leo and ran away! Do you have any idea what you've done? If anything happens to them, I will never forgive you."

My eyes fell to the bottom of the letter I was holding.

It was signed: Forever yours, Ethan, who will always love his Chloe.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through my chest, as if something delicate and precious inside me had just shattered.

I hung up the phone and tossed the entire trunk of letters into the fireplace.

3.

Ethan didn't come home that night. I didn't frantically call him, didn't cry and promise to be nicer to Stella. Annie didn't ask about her father either. She just silently took the framed photo of her and Ethan from her bedside table while I was packing.

We fell into a cold war. A week later, Annie's school sent home a permission slip for a field trip that required a parent's facial recognition signature.

I tried to call Ethan, only to find he had blocked my number.

Left with no choice, I drove to his office. I didn't have to wait long before I saw a familiar figure slip into his office.

The assistant, pouring a glass of water, looked at me guiltily. "Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Hayes gave instructions that Stella can enter his office whenever she likes."

That "privilege" was my fault, in a way. I used to bring Ethan lunch every day. We'd eat and talk for an hour. One day, Stella came to see him and was stopped by the assistant. By the time Ethan walked me out, Stella and Leo were shivering in the hallway, their lips blue with cold.

That was the first time Ethan had ever truly lost his temper with me. He yelled that my daily visits were a waste of his time. He fired the assistant who had stopped Stella. From that day on, everyone at the company knew who was the most important woman in Ethan Hayes's life.

I never came back to the office again.

I gave the new assistant a small smile and walked straight toward his office.

Ethan was in a meeting. He looked surprised to see me. "What are you doing here?"

Stella was perched on the arm of his chair, their bodies so close they were almost touching. He saw me looking and started to stammer. "Chloe, don't get the wrong idea. Stella just happens to know a little about this project, so..."

I nodded and handed him the tablet. "Annie's field trip. It needs your signature."

"You came all this way just for that?"

"Why else would I be here?"

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. I knew Ethan well enough to know that he was in a very bad mood.

Stella scoffed. "Honestly, what's so important about a signature? Ethan, she's just looking for an excuse to make up with you. You've been staying at my place for days. It's probably time you went home to see Annie."

Ethan's brow smoothed, and a smug, playful smile appeared on his face. He tossed the tablet onto the coffee table. "Chloe, now you're using our daughter as an excuse. Apologize to Stella. Otherwise, I'm not signing anything."

Hearing those words used to infuriate me. I'd be furious that he cared so little for his own daughter, and even more furious that he was doing it for Stella.

But now, I felt nothing. My only thought was that without his signature, Annie couldn't go on the trip, and she would be disappointed. I looked at him, then at Stella, still perched on his chair like a queen on her throne. Without another word, I turned and walked out. I'd just tell the school Annie didn't have a father.

I'd only taken a few steps when a clear, cool voice stopped me.

"If you don't mind, Miss, perhaps I could be of assistance."

It was the other man from the meeting. "After all, I've been an unwilling audience to your family drama for a while now."

I finally got a good look at him. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his features cool and aristocratic. He radiated an aura of wealth and power. I simply handed him the tablet. The authorization went through instantly. On the screen, a bold, elegant signature appeared:

Julian Prescott.