Chapter 1 One

Nymera Lancaster POV:

Two years of slogging as a junior lawyer, drafting contracts, carrying files, doing everyone else’s grunt work, and finally, finally, my supervising partner has given me something with benefit. A case that mattered. Finally, a case that could put my name on the board as more than a glorified secretary, and I would be seen by the attorneys, and perhaps, a promotion.

A high-profile divorce case. Messy, expensive, and the city's spotlight. Especially for someone prestigious. Exactly the kind of case that would prove me worthy.

But the moment I saw the name at the top of the file, my stomach tightened.

“Robert Christian?”

My husband's name.

For a moment, my brain refused to process it. Of course it couldn't be him. What was I thinking? Robert wasn't an uncommon name, and Christian wasn't exactly rare either. People shared names all the time. In two years at this firm, I had never stumbled across it, but the law was full of coincidences.

Still, my fingers tapped on the paper too long, and my pulse started to beat a little harder for so many reasons.

‘Keep it professional, Mera. You got this. Remember, this is your only chance.”

I adjusted my glasses, straightened my posture, and forced my hand to turn the page - and that was when the door opened, and she walked in.

Mrs. Angel Christian.

Her beauty was beautiful and sharp, and it made other women who aren't fit and confident look down on themselves when she passed. Her heels clicked eloquently as she swayed her hair backwards. When her eyes fell on me, her gaze slid downward to the swell of my stomach.

To my pregnant tummy.

“Oh,” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It wasn't a friendly one. It was amusing. Condescending. “I see you're heavily pregnant. How ironic.”

Sarcasm. I smelt sarcasm in the air.

Automatically, my hand went to my belly, protective, instinctive. I could feel the heat crawling up in my body, but I smoothed it down, forcing myself to stay composed. I can't be an anxious lawyer. I needed the promotion. I needed it.

No complaints.

“Yes,” I replied tightly, forcing out a smile. “Now, let's get to the matter at hand.”

She sat, crossing her legs with elegance and disgust. “The matter is simple. I want a divorce.”

I leaned forward immediately interested, with my legal pad fixed on my hand. “May I ask on what grounds?”

“My husband is unfaithful,” she said without hesitation. No tears, like some others would have done. Everything was dry—her words, her eyes, and her heart. Everything.

“I see. And do you have proof?”

She replied simply and directly. “I do.”

She reached into her bag, withdrew a photo, and slid it across the desk. My hand reached for it, calmly at first, then it started trembling as soon as my eyes caught the image.

No.

It was him.Robert.

My Robert.

I closed my eyes, gulping in the lumps that had already formed in my throat. I suddenly couldn't breathe anymore as the pen in my hand clattered to the floor.

I blinked once, twice, thrice, desperately hoping my eyes were betraying me. But there was no mistake. His face. The way he smiles at me. The mark on his arm and the way his arms were wrapped around her waist in a photo too intimate to be anything other than husband and wife.

And at that moment—even with the air conditioner working perfectly—I was sweating, and my hands were trembling. I could feel my tummy tumbling upside down.

No, no.

“Wh…how…how many years?” My voice broke as I tried to calm down even when things weren't going that way.

I suddenly needed water. My throat was dry. I wanted to drink water.

Her lips curled into a sharp smile, like she expected everything that was happening. “It's in the file. But I didn't expect a junior lawyer to be so incompetent.”

My hands trembled as I turned to the papers that started to look like gibberish with my turning stomach.

Five years. Married five years. Longer…longer than I had ever known him.

“And,” she added, her voice calm—too calm, “I'm suing the side woman. You.”

My vision became blurry. My heart was beating rapidly and aching.

No. She couldn't mean….

But the file said it. The marriage certificate said it. The timelines overlapped in ways that made me want to scream out. I had known Robert for two years. We had been married for two. And all this time…all this time. I have been the side woman.

I stood too quickly, the room spinning. “Excuse me.”

I barely made it to the bathroom before my knees nearly buckled. I gripped the sink, staring at my reflection. I was already pale, my makeup looking all ruined due to the position I was in. My trembling hands pressed against my belly as though to remind myself that I wasn't alone, that my baby was still here, and that I had to stay upright for both of us.

But even the woman's first word as she entered rang in my ears in several ways.

‘I see you're heavily pregnant. How ironic?”

I fumbled for my phone, dialing my best friend, Gab, as I could feel my eyes swelling up with tears.

No answers. I called again and again. Still nothing but voice mail.

My chest tightened heavily, tears burning through my eyes while I forced them back.

“Calm. Calm down. Calm down, Nymera. You have this under control.”

I tried to calm myself down even when it all seemed like a lie. This has to be a lie. It has to be.

When I returned. Angel was smirking like she had been waiting for the cracks to show me, to see me break down.

“What's your motive?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “Why bring this to me? You knew my name was in that file. You knew my husband's name.”

“Oh, darling,” she said, and her voice was almost feeling pitiful—almost. “You don't believe me, do you? That he's married to me. That we have three children together.”

My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear, and my whole body trembled. “Three…three children?” I stuttered with wide eyes.

“Two years before our marriage,” she said casually, “one the year we married, and another three years later. Our youngest is barely out of diapers.”

“No.” The word escaped my lips like a whisper as I shook my head. “No.”

My heart. It was aching really bad. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't breathe.

She slipped photos across the desk. Children with Robert's eyes. Roberts smiles.

My hands tightened.

“Here,” she said, dialing her phone. “Maybe hearing it will make it real.”

The line clicked, and his voice came through, warm and intimate. “Baby, I will be home soon from the business trip.”

That voice—it shattered me into pieces. The same tone he used for me this morning talking about a business trip.

The phone slid from her fingers to the desk, and my whole body went cold instantly.

I gathered the photos with shaking hands, stuffed them into my bag, and sprinted towards my office door but her voice halted me to a stop. “Will you drop the case, then? Lose your promotion? Take the pictures, counselor. Evidence always helps.”