My Child’s Death, His Total Ruin

Prologue:

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I received red roses from my husband Gabriel Harris.

The card had sweet words I hadn't heard in ages, inviting me to dinner at Cloudrest Dining.

That morning he'd called to say he had an emergency meeting tonight and wouldn't make it home.

Turns out the so-called overtime was meant to surprise me.

I happily brought the flowers to my nose, but the next second I couldn't control five sneezes in a row, my nose instantly itching and turning red. I'm severely allergic to roses—something I've told Gabriel countless times.

Rubbing my nose, I smiled awkwardly at the delivery guy: "Sorry, I'm allergic to roses. My husband probably forgot because he was busy."

The delivery guy froze, then hurriedly pulled out a cake and another bouquet of champagne roses from his insulated box: "I'm so sorry, ma'am. This one is actually yours. Two orders under the same number—I didn't look carefully just now."

One number, two orders.

I stood frozen, the blood in my body seeming to turn ice cold in an instant.

After closing the door, I dialed Cloudrest Dining with trembling hands, my voice shaking: "Hello, is Gabriel's usual table still available?"

"Sorry miss, Mr. Harris booked our top-floor viewing spot a week in advance. We're fully booked tonight."

A chill crept up my spine. I looked down at the stretch marks on my belly that still hadn't faded, my hand unconsciously moving to my abdomen—where our child was growing.

I grabbed my coat, slammed the door, and took a cab straight to Cloudrest Dining.

Gabriel, if you dare betray me, you can forget about that CEO position too!

1

"Miss, do you have a reservation? You can't enter without one."

The server at the restaurant entrance looked me up and down, a flash of undisguised contempt in their eyes.

I stopped in my tracks.

Right—this was the city's most exclusive reservation-only restaurant, with an average spend of over ten thousand dollars per person.

But I hadn't been here in five years.

Before marriage, I was the cherished daughter of the Rivers family. This was where my friends and I met monthly, and the owner would personally greet me.

But after marrying Gabriel, he said he'd grown up poor and hoped I could be frugal with him for our little family. I didn't hesitate to put away all my sharp edges.

I threw out my bags worth tens of thousands of dollars, put on twenty-dollar clothes, gave up afternoon tea and luxury goods, squeezed with him into a six-hundred-square-foot apartment, and compared prices at three stores even when grocery shopping.

Five years later, the servers here no longer recognized me.

I was awkwardly trying to explain when the server walked right past me, jogging up to a woman and bowing with a respectful smile:

"Miss Colins, you're here. Mr. Harris has already reserved your table. Please follow me."

I followed their gaze.

Walking toward me was a woman with exquisite makeup, wearing a haute couture dress, holding the bouquet of red roses that should have been mine.

She stopped in front of me, exchanged a knowing look with the server, a provocative smile playing at her lips, and called out loudly to the manager:

"Does your restaurant just let anyone in now?"

I instinctively clutched my faded coral fleece jacket and stepped back awkwardly.

The woman leaned against the reception desk, showing off the diamond bracelet on her wrist, glanced at her watch, and said sweetly to the approaching manager: "Never mind, he should be here soon. I'll just wait for him here."

The manager immediately smiled and agreed: "Mr. Harris specifically arranged to save you the best viewing spot, decorated with 999 red roses, just waiting for you."

The woman laughed shyly, stamping her foot in mock annoyance: "Oh, I told him it was just a casual dinner, no need to go to so much trouble. That's just how Gabriel is—he won't stop until he's completely spoiled me."

Gabriel.

That name was like two ice-cold knives stabbing into my heart.

So he hadn't forgotten our fifth anniversary—his tenderness and surprises just were never meant for me.

"Oh? Is that Mr. Harris now?"

I whipped my head around.

At the elevator, Gabriel wore a sharp dark gray suit, carrying several luxury shopping bags, striding over.

The moment he saw that woman, his face lit up with a bright, tender smile I'd never seen before.

"Sylvia, sorry I'm late. Just finished a meeting—those old guys wouldn't let me go."

He pulled the woman into his arms, planted a solid kiss on her lips, and shoved the shopping bags into her hands. "To make it up to you, I got you that bag you wanted most, and this latest jewelry piece—also your favorite."

I stared at the scene before me, my blood flowing backward in an instant.

That man with eyes full of laughter, so gentle and considerate—that was my husband Gabriel, who just this morning told me he had to work late and didn't even wish me a happy fifth anniversary.

The last shred of reason shattered in that moment. I couldn't take it anymore. I rushed out from the corner, snatched the red roses from the woman's arms, and smashed them hard into Gabriel's face.

"Gabriel! You actually betrayed me!"