The CEO's Ex-wife Has Multiple Identities

The sterile white walls of the hospital room became Anna's prison for a month, each night a torment of dreams.

In those fragile illusions, Ethan was a devoted figure, perpetually at her bedside, his face lit with a smile as he listened for the phantom stirrings of their unborn child.

Each awakening was a brutal return to reality, marked by the scalding tracks of tears.

The baby...

...was gone.

And Ethan? He remained conspicuously absent.

His excuse was a business trip, a convenient alibi. Instead, he dispatched Oscar Paul, his assistant, with two deliveries: pink roses, their fragrance a cruel mockery, and payment for her medical expenses.

Anna wrestled with the urge to gift the flowers to the nurses, but the words caught in her throat. She'd rather endure the constant sneezing.

The physical toll of the abortion, at only two months, was minimal. But the instinct to cradle her belly, a newly formed habit, persisted.

The thought of the extinguished life within sparked a familiar ache behind her eyes.

Her first child.

The union of her flesh and blood with the man she had poured a decade of love into.

Vanished...just like that.

Anna's nightly grief stalled her recovery, but the hospital, as hospitals do, needed the bed. The eviction notice was inevitable.

Amidst the sterile emptiness of her packing, a stranger materialized in the doorway.

A woman sculpted with delicate features and framed by meticulous makeup, adorned in a Barbie-pink velvet halter dress and a statement necklace –

A necklace Anna recognized all too well: the limited-edition pink diamond piece from FY, the one Riley Gilbert had so ostentatiously paraded on social media.

"Hello, I'm Becca Drew, Ethan's classmate from high school."

The woman's introduction hung in the air, prompting a bitter reflection on the name: Becca Drew...BD. An undeniable connection.

Seeing Becca extend a manicured hand, Anna forced herself to reciprocate the handshake.

"Hello, I'm Anna, Ethan Smith's wife. You can call me Mrs. Smith."

Becca's practiced smile flickered, betraying a momentary loss of composure.

But her poise was quickly regained, her expression smoothing back into place. "I came to offer my sincere apologies."

Becca lowered her gaze, striking a pose of contrived remorse that seemed almost rehearsed. "I had no idea you were in the hospital because... you were pregnant. If I had known, I would never have let Ethan accompany me to the FY press conference. And then I drank too much that night; it's really all Riley's fault, she insisted on calling Ethan. I certainly didn't expect him to actually come and get me...and that it would lead to...this. It's all my fault..."

Becca, oozing contrition, presented Anna with a fruit basket. "This is a small gesture of apology...please accept it. I'll feel awful if you don't."

Anna couldn't suppress a bitter laugh at the performance unfolding before her. "Why wouldn't I accept a five-hundred-dollar fruit basket? You're hardly offering me *the* necklace as compensation."

Becca's carefully constructed facade showed a hairline crack. She cleared her throat. "I heard you're being discharged today?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps...it would be better if you stayed a little longer. Seeing you will only upset Ethan, reminding him of our...your loss. He's been so distraught this past month, and I've been trying my best to support him. We even took a trip abroad...yachts, fishing, sunrises, sunsets..."

Watching Becca's carefully crafted display of elation, Anna couldn't care less whether the details were true or embellished.

"Yes, my husband is a generous man, devoted to his friends. He's always taken such good care of his high school acquaintances, treating them to yacht trips every week. He even gifted my best friend a ten-million-dollar diamond necklace once!" Anna hated lies, but if a few pointed words could shatter the composure of a mistress, she was more than willing to indulge.

Becca's fists clenched almost imperceptibly. "If you're so understanding, I'm relieved..."

She turned to leave, then paused at the doorway, pivoting back. "Oh, one more thing. Ethan won't be able to pick you up from the hospital. He's utterly exhausted and is catching up on sleep... at my place."

With that final, pointed barb, Becca vanished.

Anna felt a strange detachment, a hollowness devoid of anger, replaced by a profound sense of disillusionment.

She contacted Oscar, confirming that Ethan was, in fact, at the office.

Becca had lied.

Refusing to accept the mistress's warped narrative, Anna resolved to seek the truth from Ethan himself.

Before leaving the hospital, she made a detour to the Traditional Medicine Department, collecting a fresh supply of herbs.

Ethan suffered from a sensitive stomach, and his mother had a deep-seated distrust of tablets. Anna had always personally brewed his remedies, knowing the precise dosages, proportions, and simmering times by heart.

The family's stock was dwindling. If not for the recent tragedy, Anna would have replenished it long ago.

Clutching the heavy bag of the medicine, Anna arrived at the Smith Group headquarters.

The receptionist recognized her from previous meal deliveries to Ethan - a time when she was mistaken for a nanny.

"Miss Anna, President Smith is in a meeting. You can leave the medicine with Assistant Oscar; he's in the assistant's office."

"Okay."

Anna refrained from correcting the receptionist, from clarifying that she wasn't "Miss Anna," but "Mrs. Smith."

Reaching the executive floor, Anna bypassed Oscar's office, heading directly for the general manager's door.

The frosted glass wasn't fully closed. Through the narrow gap, Anna saw Ethan and Riley standing inside.

"Ethan, you claim you can't bear to let go of your wife, yet you had the heart to murder your own child..."

Anna, her hand raised to knock, froze, petrified in place.

"Becca had nothing to do with it..."

"Whether she returns or not, I can never have a child with Anna."

"Why?"

"Human energy is finite. A child would change her. Besides, right now, it's just Grandpa's appreciation and Mom's approval. Once a baby arrives, it won't be so simple." Ethan casually exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke, his calculated smile striking Anna with the force of a physical blow.

"And...I knew she was pregnant. So I deliberately...wasn't careful, damaging her uterus. The doctor says she can't have any more children."

His voice, coolly detached, made the admission with chilling ease.

On the other side of the door, Anna was already slick with cold sweat.

"Ethan, if you've treated that shrew so harshly, who will carry on the Smith family name? It will have to be my best friend!"

Ethan offered no response to Riley's suggestive remark.

Finishing his cigarette and his conversation with Riley, he began to leave the office. He spotted something Riley didn't notice.

A bag of herbs.

Emerald Nursing Home.

Anna had practically fled here, running from Ethan's office, from Ethan's company, unable to endure another moment.

She felt consumed by nausea.

His every word was a vile poison.

This was the man she had loved for a decade.

He'd pursued and married her out of spite, as revenge against another woman.

He'd murdered their child with his own hands, again, for another woman.

Ten years of devotion, three years of marriage-a complete and utter sham.

Anna furiously wiped away her tears and walked into the nursing home.

Since her marriage to Ethan, her mother had been moved here from the hospital.

Her mother, whose health had always been fragile, had succumbed to Alzheimer's during a global pandemic.

Even though she no longer recognized her, there were things she needed to confess.

Her mother's greatest wish was to see her happily married.

So Anna had to tell her mother...

...she was a failure as a daughter.

That evening, Anna left the nursing home and went to a nearby law firm.

As darkness descended, the lights of New York City flickered to life, illuminating the vibrant pulse of the city. When Ethan arrived home, he found

the lights were off. He flipped them on, illuminating the medicine and a bouquet of pink roses in his hands.

In the silent, empty house, there was no hot, fragrant meal.

And no Anna Hendrick.