Grace Lockwood was dying, and her final wish was for her only daughter, Sophia, to have a child of her own.
To ease Grace’s worries, Jason Danish, my husband, agreed to fulfill her request.
But instead of showing any compassion, he started staying out all night and pushing me to sign the divorce papers.
After endless arguments, I activated the long-dormant Zenith Interface and whispered, “I want to leave this world.”
The system, wanting to spare me the pain of my last moments, extracted my core emotions.
I stopped fighting. I stopped caring. And strangely, that seemed to satisfy Jason. He rushed into marrying his foster sister, Sophia.
As time passed, Jason began to notice something shifting. My indifference grew, and I even started preparing baby clothes for the child Sophia was expecting.
That’s when Jason finally started to panic.
**Prelude ends**
Jason Danish and I had another fight.
The third one, always about his foster sister, Sophia Lockwood.
I grabbed his arm, desperate to stop him from leaving.
Jason shoved me away with frustration.
I stumbled, barely keeping my balance, clutching the edge of the table to steady myself.
His face darkened, irritation seeping through every word. “Chloe Hartwell, I’ve told you this a hundred times: it’s just for a child. A year from now, I’ll divorce her and come back to you. Why can’t you just be reasonable? Why are we fighting about this now?”
I stared him down, my chest heaving with emotion.
“She wants a child, but why does it have to be you? She knows you’re married. She’s destroying our family.”
“Chloe!” Jason’s voice dropped, low and dangerous, full of anger.
“Grace raised me. Without her, I wouldn’t even be alive. What family do I have if not her?”
“Tomorrow at the County Clerk’s Office,” he said coldly. “I’ll be waiting.”
With that, he slammed the door and stormed out of our apartment.
At the curb, a small figure emerged from a Bentley and rushed into his arms.
I clutched my chest, an ache spreading through me.
Seven years together, and this was how it ended.
I activated the Zenith Interface.
“System, I want to go home.”
Three years ago, I fought so hard to win Jason’s love. I should’ve walked away back then.
But Jason had told me, “Chloe, I finally have a home.”
I’d teased him, “You could’ve just bought a house. Isn’t that the same thing?”
Jason had shaken his head, serious for once. “It’s not about the house, it’s about having you. You’re my home.”
“Chloe, you are my home.”
In that moment, I felt like I was floating, weightless, like I was walking on air.
And because of those words, I stayed.
After all, I was an orphan. Where I lived didn’t really matter.
But just three years later, Jason shattered everything.
When Grace was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she clung to Jason, begging him to take care of Sophia.
Tears streamed down her face as she expressed her worries that Sophia, alone in the world, would be left vulnerable.
“If only Sophia could have a child,” she whispered. “But she refuses to marry. I know… it’s because she’s waiting for you, Jason. I don’t care about dying, but I can’t leave knowing she’ll be alone.”
To calm her, Jason promised to marry Sophia and give her the child she wanted.
I was there in the hospital room when he made that promise, each word slicing through me.
When we got home, Jason told me he wanted a divorce so he could marry Sophia.
I refused. We fought. And he ended it by slamming the door on me.
The Zenith Interface hesitated before responding. “Host, for the first three months of separation, your emotions will be extracted. You’ll become an empty shell. Leaving at that point will spare you most of the pain.”
I agreed. Anything to escape Jason Danish.
