Before Natalie came into our lives, James and I were truly happy—so happy that people often called us the most loving couple in the world.
I believed it with all my heart. I thought our love was real.
After the surgery, my father lived for several more years before he eventually passed away.
Even then, I remained deeply grateful to James. He was not only my benefactor—he was my husband.
I loved him enough to die for him.
But now, his cold words felt like a slap across my face. They snapped me out of my delusion.
Love at first sight? The most loving couple in the world?
It had all been a lie.
He never loved me. To him, I was nothing more than a stand-in for Natalie. And now, he was even shielding the woman who had killed his own son.
My heart broke into pieces. There was no hope left. No warmth.
I didn’t want a husband like this. I didn’t need him.
I heard footsteps approaching. James entered the room.
“Amy,” he said gently, “it’s time to get up and take your medicine.”
When I met his gaze—filled with concern—my chest tightened with dull pain. He looked at me like he truly cared.
“Does your body hurt a lot?” he asked, eyes soft.
If I hadn’t heard that heartless conversation earlier with my own ears, I might’ve thought I’d imagined it.
But the searing pain in my palm reminded me that it had been real.
For seven years, James had treated me as Natalie’s substitute. And now, even after our son’s murder, he still chose to protect her.
I fought to hold back the hatred rising in my chest.
He looked down at my injury, then said in a low voice, “I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you.”
My hand instinctively moved to my abdomen. An ugly scar stretched across it—stitched with more than fifty sutures.
It was the wound I received when I was stabbed by my son’s kidnapper… while James was out with his “sister,” happily trying on dresses and posting about it on social media.
I flinched away from his hand and stared at him, my eyes filled with burning resentment.
“It wasn’t just me you failed to protect,” I said coldly. “It was Samuel too.”
His expression froze for a moment. Guilt flickered in his eyes.
“Amy, I’m sorry,” he said again. “I know you’re heartbroken… but Samuel had a weak heart. The doctors said from the beginning that he wouldn’t live long. This was always going to be painful.”
“When you’re better, we can try again. We can have another child, okay?”
But if Natalie hadn’t appeared, Samuel would still be alive.
I had gone abroad, searched far and wide for experts—done everything I could to improve his condition. And I had succeeded. He had gotten stronger, healthier.
All of it was destroyed because of her.
Why did she do that to him? He was just a child.
I stared into James’s indifferent eyes and let out a hollow laugh. “Sure. Okay.”
He looked visibly relieved.
But I knew—there would be no future between us.
He stayed at the hospital with me that day. After he fell asleep, I quietly picked up his phone.
The password was my birthday.
A bitter lump rose in my throat.
Seven years of pretending to love me—all for a face that resembled someone else’s.
Even the password was a part of his performance.
Back when I didn’t know the truth, I might have been moved. Now, I knew better.
I wouldn’t be fooled again.
Ignoring the pain that pulsed from my abdomen, I opened his contacts. There it was: Natalie—saved under the name Baby Natalie.
I opened their chat history.
There were flirtatious messages. Photos.
Every time he claimed to be away on a business trip, he had been with her—booking hotel rooms, going on dates.
And over the past seven years, they had stayed in touch.
Every year on her birthday, he would travel overseas just to bring her a gift.
