Who Is My Husband's True Love

In my fifth year of marriage to New York business titan Julian Blackwood, he ordered me to care for his pregnant mistress.

He threatened me with the destruction of my entire family. If anything went wrong, my entire world would be turned to ash.

This was my third time trapped in this cycle of death.

In my first life, all of New York high society whispered that his affections for the socialite Scarlett Monroe were something special.

And just as they said, she became pregnant. I assembled the finest medical team to care for her.

I waited on her hand and foot until she gave birth. But before I could even tell Julian the news, his men dragged me away and had me committed to a mental asylum. After seven long years of torture, I died in endless despair and madness.

It was only right before I died that I learned Julian's true love was never Scarlett. The woman he truly loved, the one he'd neglected, had suffered a mental breakdown and been sent to a sanatorium in Switzerland.

In my second life, I chose to investigate personally.

I saw Julian place his favorite custom Patek Philippe on the wrist of actress Cynthia Rhodes.

I acted decisively, hiring an entire security firm for her protection and even becoming her private cook and housekeeper.

But on the day Cynthia gave birth, I was killed in a meticulously planned car crash.

His cold, merciless words still echoed in my ears.

"My love and child were almost killed. So you can go to hell!"

The memory of my two tragic deaths sent my head spinning, and I nearly collapsed.

He had called her "my love," so who else could it be but Cynthia?

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1

When I didn't answer immediately, Julian's thin patience snapped.

He didn't pull a gun, just tossed a file onto the table—forged financial records, enough to send my father to prison.

"Claire, don't forget your place. You're just a trophy I bought. If you can't even serve that one purpose, your family can disappear right along with you!"

Rage and panic churned inside me, but I was in no position to challenge him.

I had to swallow my pride, affecting a fragile vulnerability as I sidled up to him.

"Julian, don't be so cruel. I'm your wife. Of course I'm upset that your mistress is pregnant."

"Look, you're scaring me. My heart is pounding..."

I couldn't for the life of me guess who the woman was, so I had to switch tactics. I'd have to play the loving wife to coax any clues out of him.

I reached out, as if to smooth the worry from his brow, but the instant my fingertips grazed his skin, he swatted my hand away in disgust.

"Drop the act. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings?"

"If I weren't afraid my business rivals would use my private life against me, do you think I would have married you? You're the perfect cover."

"Save the performance for when we're in public. At home, try to have some self-respect!"

My eyes reddened, and tears welled on command.

I let my shawl slip, baring the smooth curve of my shoulder. I’d barely taken a step closer when he shoved me back so hard I stumbled into the cold wall.

"Get out! The sight of you disgusts me."

"Did you not hear me? I don't repeat myself!"

I cursed him under my breath. What a cold-blooded bastard. Playing nice is useless on an animal like him.

But I couldn't just directly ask him who he wanted me to take care of.

First, this penthouse was riddled with cameras. The man was paranoid. He'd never mention anyone he truly cared about here; he'd never expose a vulnerability at home.

Second, asking again would be admitting I wasn't listening, and that would just make him furious. Either way, I was screwed.

Wiping away my tears, I looked up with reddened eyes and said tentatively,

"Fine. I'll start by arranging for the best obstetrician and twenty bodyguards for Scarlett Monroe. That way, her safety is guaranteed, even if the paparazzi find her, and her private life remains undisturbed."

Julian idly toyed with the custom pen in his hand, his gaze fixed downward, a picture of indifference.

"Mm."

A prickle of doubt surfaced. Scarlett wasn't the one he wanted to protect.

So why did he agree?

The next second, he spoke again.

"And then?"

"And then... I'll assign four top-tier nurses to Cynthia Rhodes. As an actress, she's in the public eye constantly, which means greater risk. I'll put fifty bodyguards on her detail. How does that sound?"

He nodded, completely unconcerned.

"You handle it."

"But Scarlett is a public figure. We can't afford any mistakes with the press. Our resources are limited—allocate them where they matter most."

"And this stays between us. No one else finds out you're protecting her!"

His words were just as contradictory as they'd been in my past life. My composure nearly shattered.

He was so concerned about Scarlett's public image, yet she wasn't the one.

I was about to press him for clues about anyone new.

His phone suddenly rang.

When he saw the caller ID, a rare softness touched his perpetually cold features.

When he answered, Scarlett's sweet, delicate voice came through.

"Julian, am I interrupting? I have some amazing news!"

Julian smiled dotingly but said something that shocked me.

"I'm on an international conference call. We'll talk when I'm finished."

Scarlett was instantly displeased, her voice a pouty whine.

"Julian, how can you brush me off like that? You're not with some other woman, are you?"