Chapter 1 Love Dies With One Final Snap
Teresa Sullivan returned to Brocade Villa at 10 pm. The full moon marked her ovulation day, the 15th. Ever since her daughter Yolanda Logan was born, her in-laws had been pressuring her for another child.
Most women would have laughed it off, saying there was no throne to inherit. But the Logans were different. As Riverdale’s wealthiest family, their billion-dollar empire demanded a male heir.
When Teresa stepped into the bedroom, her husband, Charles Logan, was already showered and ready. No pleasantries, no small talk, they went straight to business.
Three minutes later, Charles went to the bathroom. When he returned, Teresa remained still in bed. He dressed with his back to her, tossing the words over his shoulder, “Test on schedule. Call me if it’s positive.”
For five years, he had always treated her with such bare minimum of speech. Their marriage existed only on paper, while Charles openly maintained his relationship with his mistress.
Teresa spent sleepless nights combing through his social media, tracing every digital footprint until she found the other woman’s profile. Since then, she checked it compulsively, like picking at a scab that would never heal.
Before the second-child plan, Teresa could hardly see Charles in person. She could only track her husband’s life through the other woman’s posts: lavish meals, exotic vacations, birthday celebrations. Now they met exactly once a month, like clockwork.
Knowing Charles was eager to leave, Teresa quickly stood up. “Wait,” she said, her voice catching. “We need to talk.” Her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at his back.
Charles slowly turned, his face a mask of cold indifference. “About what?” he asked, the words sharp as broken glass.
Teresa’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to make this work,” she pleaded, knowing deep down it was probably too late. But she had to try. She had fought too hard for this marriage, for their family. Their daughter deserved better than failed parents.
Charles showed no reaction. Teresa couldn’t tell if he hadn’t heard or was deliberately ignoring her. He finished buttoning his shirt, fastened his watch, and headed for the door without a word.
This time, Teresa stayed by the bed. No desperate hugs. No pleading for him to stay. The old habits had died quietly.
Just as Charles reached for the doorknob, Teresa’s composure shattered. “You only come to Brocade Villa once a month,” she cried, her voice cracking. “No calls. No meals together. We’re complete strangers. Tell me, Charles, what kind of marriage even is this?”
Charles stopped, turning just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes stayed dry as hers overflowed. “When you’re carrying my son,” he said flatly, “I’ll return.” The door clicked shut behind him. Teresa didn’t move. For the first time, she let him walk away.
She had poured her whole heart into this marriage. The birth of their daughter nearly killed her, with doctors issuing three critical warnings during her amniotic fluid embolism. Still, she had been willing to risk death again for a son. Now, standing alone in their empty bedroom, she started to wonder whether this sacrifice meant anything.
After her shower, Teresa automatically grabbed her phone and opened the video app. The “Frequently Viewed” list showed just one account named YatesDaily, with its cheerful profile picture.
A new post had gone up two minutes ago. The video displayed two shadowy figures under a streetlight, holding hands with matching bracelets. The caption read, [Two shadows under the light. One is mine. The other is also mine.]
Her heart wrenched a bit, but quietly now. Where there once was a hurricane, only ripples remained. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the feeling. These days, their meetings always ended the same way with Charles rushing off to see the other woman.
But when the emotion faded, she clung to one certainty. As long as Charles needed her to bear his heir, no one could replace her as Mrs. Logan. But this hollow marriage was a bitter pill she had to keep swallowing day after lonely day.
*****
A month later, on a chilly Tuesday evening, Teresa rushed into Brocade Villa, the still-warm pregnancy test report crumpled in her sweaty palm. Her heart pounded, not from running but from the two bold lines that changed everything. Tonight, she would finally have news worth celebrating.
As Teresa stepped into the living room, her mother-in-law’s sharp voice cut through the air, freezing her in the doorway. “Charles, you’re 32,” Roselyn Lockwood said. “Five years married and only one daughter. Meeting your wife once a month? How’s she supposed to get pregnant like that? If it’s really not working, let your mistress try. Any boy with Logan blood will do.”
Charles immediately rejected the idea, “That’s not acceptable.” Teresa stepped back, hiding in the shadows. For a brief moment, her heart fluttered, because Charles was standing up for her. After all, she remained his lawful wife, regardless of his affairs. But then his tone shifted, clinical and cold, “Remember her embolism during Yolanda’s birth?”
Roselyn’s face darkened. “And who brought this curse into our home? The Logans never had such shame before.” Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Other wives pop out babies like it’s nothing. But our precious Teresa? One birth and we’re the talk of the town for days. Humiliating!”
Charles completely ignored his mother’s complaints. Instead, he explained, “Childbirth is dangerous. Teresa has already been through it once. She can handle the risk. But Naomi is still young. I can’t let her take that chance.”
Teresa stood rooted outside the door, shock coursing through her like electricity. She felt sad, but the tears wouldn’t come.
Knowing Charles had betrayed her and that their marriage was broken, she still had clung to the naive hope that a second child might bind him to her and that the Logan name would protect her. Now reality struck, colder and harsher than she had ever dreamed.
It turned out, to Charles, she was just a womb for his heir. He had forgotten how she sank into darkness after Yolanda’s birth, how the sight of blood made her tremble, how doctors fought to keep her alive. He fretted over the other woman’s safety in childbirth, never realizing Teresa’s risk was far deadlier.
The voices inside the room gradually became distant echoes. Teresa’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. She had nearly died giving the Logans a daughter, yet Charles sowed his betrayals like seeds. Clutching the pregnancy report, she thought maybe it was time to end it all.
Today was their scheduled conception day, but the ritual now felt hollow. It turned out love died not with a slow fade, but with one final snap. At this moment, there was also no reason to keep the child in her belly. If no one else cared about her life, at least she should do that for herself.
As Teresa turned to leave, their housekeeper Barbara Davis noticed her, “Mrs. Logan, you’re back already?” Teresa forced a smile, thinking perhaps today was finally the day to mention divorce.
