On our tenth wedding anniversary, I caught my husband, Gu Yanshen, entangled with his mistress in a fitting room.
During our argument, she shoved me down the stairs. “It’s time you gave the position of Mrs. Gu back to me!”
Lying in a pool of blood, I saw Gu Yanshen turning his wedding ring in his fingers as he told the doctor, “Save the baby.”
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night they had schemed to make me a surrogate.
This time, I tore off my necklace and hit the alarm. “Mr. Gu, your fiancée is right next door.”
Half a year later, I made a grand finale appearance at Milan Fashion Week, pushing a stroller.
Under the flashbulbs, Gu Yanshen shattered his wineglass. “The paternity test says this is my child.”
I smiled and scooped up the baby. “Mr. Gu, you’re two years too late to inspect the goods.” A slender hand suddenly reached out from behind me.
“Need a lawyer to help you fight for custody, my former fiancée’s sister-in-law?”
