Marrying My Ultimate Dotting Husband

Since I was born, I've carried a secret I couldn't share. My parents, with their traditional preference for a son over a daughter, missed the optimal window for treating my condition — I was born without a fully developed reproductive system. This truth was kept from me, a secret buried for over a decade, until I reached adulthood. When I met Daniel Jones, I thought I had found a lifeline. He is the CEO of the Jones Group, handsome, wealthy, and incredibly gentle with me. The first time, in the hospital corridor, he held my hand tightly and said, "Susan, don't worry—I'll find the best doctors in the world." I believed him. Over the next six months, he turned down countless social engagements to accompany me to hospitals both at home and abroad. On the day of the surgery, he waited by the operating room door for eight hours. When I was awake, I heard him whisper softly, "Susan, once you get better, we'll get engaged." Tears welled up instantly; I felt all the suffering of the past twenty years was worth it. The recovery was long, and Daniel Jones came almost every day. He read financial news to me, brought my favorite strawberry cake, and gently patted my back when the pain kept me awake. I couldn't help but ask, "Daniel, why are you so good to me?" He lowered his head to kiss my forehead, his gaze as tender as water: "Because you are Susan Shaw, the one I want to spend my life with." I was lost in this tenderness, not noticing the fleeting confusion in his eyes now and then. On New Year's Eve, Daniel said he was going to hang out with his friends and told me to wait at home. I made the soup he loves, then went ahead to the private club he frequents. Just as I arrived at the private room's door, I heard Mike Young's voice: "Daniel, you're really too focused on Susan Shaw. Are you actually going to get engaged?" "Engaged to who?" Daniel's voice was laced with sarcasm, a stark contrast to usual: "She's nothing but a plaything." "A plaything? Is it really worth spending millions on doctors?" Mike Young pressed on. "Don't you think her smile is a lot like Ruby's? Especially her eyes." Daniel Jones chuckled softly. Ruby? Ruby Scott, his ex-girlfriend whom he loved for three years and who went abroad to study. The thermos clattered to the floor, spilling soup everywhere. The private room door was pulled open, and Daniel Jones and Mike Young looked over. Daniel's expression changed instantly; he hurried over, "Susan? What are you doing here?" He reached out to steady me, his eyes anxious. I stepped back, avoiding him, my voice trembling, "A plaything? A stand-in?" Daniel froze mid-motion, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he said nothing. Mike Young awkwardly turned and left, leaving just the two of us in the hallway. "It's not what you think, Susan—please, let me explain." Daniel Jones's voice softened as he tried to pull me closer. "Think what?" I looked up at him, feeling utterly estranged. "You spent millions on my treatment just because my eyes look like Ruby Scott's? You said you wanted to get engaged because I'm easy to deceive?" "I have feelings for you!" Daniel raised his voice. "Maybe at first it was because you reminded me of her, but later, I really liked you." "Like what about me? That I have her eyes, or that I'm someone you can easily manipulate?" I laughed until tears streamed down my face. He looked at my tears with a complex expression, unable to find words to respond. "Daniel Jones, what do you think I am? A stand-in for someone else?" "No, that's not it!" He stepped forward, trying to hug me. "Don't touch me." I pushed him away sharply; he staggered back. I turned and walked away, my heels nearly slipping on the soup stain. Daniel called my name anxiously from behind, but I didn't look back or stop. Back at the villa Daniel had prepared for me, the pink decorations that once delighted me now felt profoundly ironic. Is this because I like it, or is it because Ruby Scott likes it? I sat on the sofa until dawn. Daniel Jones hadn't come back, and my phone rang countless times—I didn't answer once. At dawn, I realized: some people's tenderness was a lie from the very start. I can't be a fool anymore.