The clock struck one in the morning.

Amy Sinclair scrolled through her phone, her fingers freezing when she landed on Victoria Langley's Instagram post.

"Thank you, Alexander and sweet Liam, for these beautiful gifts. Liam even painted this mug himself!"

Amy tapped the photo. A delicate silver necklace and a handmade ceramic mug filled the screen. She squinted—barely visible on the mug were the words, Happy Birthday, Mom.

Her gaze drifted to the dining table. The untouched dinner had long gone cold. The birthday cake sat untouched, its candles still unlit. A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

Earlier that day, a news alert had buzzed on her phone: Exclusive: Reclusive billionaire Alexander Blackwood secretly married with a five-year-old son!

The accompanying photo showed a striking man in a tailored suit, his arm around a slender woman, their hands linked with a bright-eyed little boy between them. Victoria had rested her palm on Liam's head, while Alexander looked at her with a tenderness Amy had never seen directed at herself.

A perfect family.

Today was supposed to be her day. Her birthday. Her fifth wedding anniversary. Yet, Victoria was the one celebrating.

Her husband. Her son. Both had spent the day with another woman, gifting her what should have been Amy's.

She wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Victoria was Alexander’s first love. Diagnosed with a terminal illness, she had mere months left. Her dying wish? To see him one last time.

Alexander had been adamant—he wanted to make her final days meaningful. He’d asked Amy to understand. And though it shattered her, she’d relented. It was the first time he’d ever spoken to her with such conviction.

The hollow ache in her chest deepened. She sat in the dark, the silence pressing in, until the front door creaked open.

Alexander stepped inside, Liam trailing behind him.

He paused when he saw her at the table, his expression flickering with something close to confusion. "You're still up?"

Amy met his gaze, her voice steady. "We need to talk."

Alexander frowned, glancing down at Liam. "Go upstairs and get ready for bed."

Liam rubbed his eyes, yawning as he passed Amy. Then, as if remembering, he stopped. "Oh. Happy Birthday, Mom."

His eyes—so much like Alexander’s—peered up at her.

"Dad and I didn’t forget. We just… Victoria doesn’t have much time left. You understand, right?"

Which hurt more? Being forgotten—or being remembered, yet still coming second?

The moment Liam disappeared upstairs, silence settled again.

Alexander exhaled. "What did you want to discuss?"

He stood there, immaculate in his white shirt and black trousers, his sharp features as unreadable as ever.

Amy took a slow breath. "Alexander. I want a divorce."

For the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes—like a ripple across still water. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.