My marriage to Fu Chenyan began with a cold contract.
He needed a shield, and I needed money to save my mother who was lying in the ICU.
For three years, I played Mrs. Fu dutifully and never questioned the lipstick mark on his shirt.
Until the white moonlight in his heart returned to China, I took the initiative to hand over the divorce agreement on our wedding anniversary.
"Mr. Fu, it's time for the substitute to leave. I wish you and Miss Lin a happy marriage."
Fu Chenyan sneered and tore up the agreement: "The contract says three years, not even one day less."
That night, a photo of him accompanying Bai Yueguang to choose a diamond ring made headlines.
I calmly made an appointment for an abortion, but he blocked me in the hospital corridor.
"Su Wan, do you dare to touch my child?"
"Mr. Fu," I waved the medical record, "didn't your Bai Yueguang tell you that she only left after receiving money?"
