My Daughter and I Became the Obstacles to My Husband’s First LoveBlurb

The nineteenth time Ethan Foster had a fight with Vivian Moore, he came to Grace White to vent.

“If you and your daughter didn’t keep showing up in front of her, she wouldn’t be mad at me all the time.”

“So what should I do this time?”

“How about you go kneel and apologize to her?”

Grace looked at him quietly, no expression on her face.

She was used to this.

Every time Ethan and his white‑moonlight had a quarrel, he came to quarrel with Grace.

She had absolutely done nothing wrong, yet he wanted her to apologize to the other woman—his mistress.

That was exactly the kind of thing Ethan Foster would do.

She hadn’t been able to refuse before.

But now, she could.

Back then, if she didn’t do as he said, he would cut off her grandmother’s medical payments and freeze her bank cards.

Once, just to threaten her, he had deliberately fed mango juice to their daughter in swaddling clothes—knowing perfectly well the baby was allergic to mango. At that moment, whatever feeling she had left for him died completely.

But she had no choice. She had to treat Grandma, had to raise her daughter, and she was afraid he might hurt the baby. So, she compromised.

Last year, Grandma passed away and Grace had saved some money. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore. She only wanted to get rid of him.

Ethan saw her silence and was about to threaten her like before, but Grace calmly pulled out two copies of a divorce agreement.

“Kneeling is probably boring to her by now. How about… we get divorced?”

“If she sees our divorce certificates, she’ll definitely be thrilled.”

Ethan looked at her in surprise. “When did you get so considerate?” “Are you really trying to please me?”

Grace said nothing; the corners of her lips lifted slightly. She wasn’t trying to please him.

She simply didn’t want him anymore.

Her heart toward him was dead through and through.

Ethan didn’t hesitate and signed without even reading. “Whatever. Relax—once I’ve had enough fun, we’ll get remarried.”

He couldn’t wait to get the divorce certificate and use it to please Vivian Moore.

He pulled strings, and the very next day he had fresh divorce certificate in hand.

When the clerk handed over two divorce certificates, Grace accepted it with a calm face and felt a great weight lift from her chest. Ethan took his and froze for a second as—ignoring the eyes around them—Vivian Moore flung herself into his arms, overcome with excitement.

“Ethan, you actually divorced for me! Amazing! I love you so much.”

“From now on, I’ve decided to forgive all your mistakes.”

Her red lips pressed passionately to Ethan Foster’s. The two of them kissed and embraced right there in the civil office as if no one else existed, leaving the onlookers gaping.

Grace shook her head and let out a cold, mocking laugh.

Ever since Ethan’s white‑moonlight Vivian Moore had returned to the country with her daughter, he hadn’t looked Grace in the eye any more.

If they were so in love, why break up back then?

Grace turned to leave.

From this day forward, whether Ethan Foster lived or died had nothing to do with her.

In the evening, she returned to the old house to pack. She had barely stepped inside when she heard Ethan saying to Vivian, “Viv, look at the sky. Make sure you watch till the end.”

Against the deep‑blue canopy, countless drones rose like fireflies. They lifted into the darkening air, at first merging into a shimmering river of stars, then shifting into a huge, glowing red rose, its petals blazing against the night.

Finally, the lights flowed, scattered, and re‑formed into several enormous letters: “Vivian Moore, I love you!”

Brilliant radiance drenched the entire sky.

From behind her came a delighted squeal. “Ah! Ethan, I love it. I love you too!” “As long as you like it,” Ethan’s voice was warm with indulgence and pride.

Grace’s feet felt nailed to the floor; a sudden cold swept through her.

The year they married, Ethan had only just started his company, and all his money had gone into it.

Their wedding had been simple—just a certificate.

He bought her a bouquet of red roses and a pair of plain silver rings.

No ceremony, not even wedding photos.

With reddened eyes he had held her and choked out, “Grace, I’m sorry. I swear, what I owe you, I’ll repay a hundredfold, a thousandfold.”

“One day, I’ll let the whole world know I love you.”

Later, he made money hand over fist and grew richer and richer.

But the oath he swore—he forgot.

And now, all Grace could do was stand in an outdated house and watch him make his grand love declaration to someone else.

Love hadn’t vanished. It had simply transferred with perfect precision.

He gave all his tenderness and all his romance to another woman without reserve.

Silently, Grace returned to the old place.

She packed the essentials for herself and her daughter, dragged two huge suitcases back to the small studio apartment she’d had before marriage.

She had just arrived at the little apartment when— “Mommy!”

Sophie’s bright call melted the ice in Grace’s heart.

Letting go of the nanny’s hand, the little girl flew into her arms like a bird.

Tomorrow was her daughter’s birthday. Ethan Foster had once promised to take her to the amusement park.

But today he had just gotten together with Vivian Moore—chances were, he would break his promise again.