I wanted to stay home.

My whole body felt heavy and hollow. The doctor’s words would not stop ringing in my head. It felt like my eyes were burning with tiredness.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lucian turning away from me after hearing the doctor’s words…

Earlier that day, Lucian’s assistant had sent me a reminder:

“Your presence is required at the Dhark Foundation Gala.”

In other words, I had to go to the event, with or without Lucian.

My whole life, I’ve been taught that the good wife shows up. So I dressed up, put on faint makeup, and I showed up.

But I regretted coming to the Gala as soon as I stepped in.

The photographers barely glanced in my direction as I stepped out of the car. Their cameras swung past me, settling instead on a woman in a red dress. They screamed her name and the camera lights flickered endlessly.

It was just Claire Moreau after all. If Lucian had accompanied me, it would have been a completely different story.

Inside the ballroom, golden chandeliers dripped light, casting the room in a warm glow. People laughed, champagne glasses clinked, violins hummed softly.

On any other night, it would have felt beautiful, but tonight, it felt suffocating.

“Claire, darling!” Mrs. Halberg called, walking up to me and kissing the air beside my cheek. “Good to see you.”

“That’s a lovely dress, Mrs. Dhark,” another woman chimed, though her eyes darted past me, searching for someone more interesting.

“Oh, is Lucian not accompanying you?” Mrs. Halberg asked.

The question stung like a hundred bees.

“He had a late meeting,” I replied, forcing a smile.

Technically, I had told the truth.

I drifted toward a quiet corner, clutching my single glass of water, with the doctor’s words repeating in my head over and over again.

“Extensive scar tissue.” “Extremely unlikely.”

My stomach twisted and twisted.

What kind of wife could not even give her husband a child? I had always imagined that the birth of a child would make Lucian happy. Maybe even make him love me again…

Two younger women walked by, wearing flashy sequined gowns.

“Claire, right?” one asked brightly.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I love your…minimalist look,” she said politely, though her eyes scanned my simple gown with disapproval. “It’s very simple, very… safe.” She added.

Her friend nodded with sympathy in her eyes. “It must be hard dressing for these events when you’re coming alone.”

They left before I could respond. And even if they hadn’t, what could I possibly say? It felt like my insides were crumbling.

Before I could gather myself, a sudden eruption of noise and excited screams swept through the room, grabbing my attention.

The clicking of cameras.

The murmurs and gasps.

The energy shifted as though something extraordinary had arrived.

I turned towards the noise there she was: Eva Sterling.

She walked into the ballroom like she owned it, in a gold gown that hugged her gorgeous body. Her honey-blonde hair flowed in soft curls, framing a face that cameras loved and the world admired.

Eva didn’t just enter the room; She claimed it.

Cameras began firing so fast the air glittered with flashing lights. People stepped aside as she walked, creating a clear path for her as if she were royalty. In a sense, Eva Sterling was national and international royalty.

People flocked to her in an instant.

“Eva! Over here!”

“You look so stunning!” Someone shouted excitedly.

“I loved your last film! Mind blowing!”

“Oh my God, it’s really her!”

“She’s even prettier in real life!”

I had seen photos of Eva, read articles about her, knew she was Lucian’s ex. But nothing prepared me for the real woman in front of me: she was breathtaking and sensational in a way that made me feel invisible.

She was confident, radiant _ everything I wasn’t.

I could still remember the first time I had ever heard her name, years ago. I remembered sitting in my bed late at night, typing ‘Eva Sterling’ into G****e.

It hit me like a bomb: her red carpet pictures, her acting awards, her glamorous life.

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