Five years of marriage, and Elliot Sanchez pulled the plug on our dying son's ventilator just to force me to sign the divorce papers.

He drove my mother into such deep depression that she threw herself off a building.

I didn't take it lying down. I leaked confidential company files and bankrupted him. Then I grabbed a knife, ready to take us both out.

The first slash caught his left shoulder. The second aimed straight for his chest, but his little secretary threw herself in the way.

The police hauled me off. One year behind bars for aggravated assault.

By the time I saw him again, he'd clawed his way back to the top.

One arm around his secretary. The other around their son. A picture-perfect family of three, dripping with sweetness.

And me? I was wearing a servant's uniform, scrubbing floors.

Elliot Sanchez spotted me in my sorry state, and a sneer split his face. His voice dripped with mockery.

"A woman who's done prison time—what gives you the right to show your face here? I bet the Farleys have no idea about your little stint behind bars. If they did, you wouldn't even be fit to polish their shoes."

Me? Not fit?

I had never been to prison. Today wasn't just the day my husband, Dudley Farley, was being inaugurated as CEO of Farley Group. It was also my son's first birthday celebration.

I had more right to be here than anyone.

——

When I said nothing, Elliot only got bolder.

He brought his secretary right up to block my path.

"Imogen Henson, I have to say—a year in prison and your skin's still this smooth. You must have been bribing the guards left and right. But then again, you were flat broke back then. A woman with nothing to her name... what could she possibly use to bribe anyone? Unless it was—"

He dragged out the last syllable, his gaze crawling over me from head to toe.

The implication was unmistakable.

After all these years, his mouth was still just as filthy.

I reached over casually and picked up a fruit knife from the table beside me. Gladys Fox, standing at Elliot's side, went rigid with alarm.

She flung her arms wide, planting herself squarely in front of him.

Just like she had back then.

"Imogen, sweetie, I know my showing up in your life made you bitter. If you're angry, take it out on me! Leave Elliot out of this!"

I turned the fruit knife over in my hand, then reached for a pear and began peeling it, slow and deliberate, one long spiral at a time.

Once upon a time, Elliot and I had dated for four years before walking down the aisle.

My family and I had poured every dollar and every ounce of effort into propping him up, launching his career to heights he never could have reached alone.

Then, on our fourth wedding anniversary, a new secretary joined his company.

Gladys Fox.

From that point on, he came home later and later. Midnight became three in the morning, and three in the morning became not at all.

My son and I huddled together in that empty house, clinging to each other. Until the day my boy was diagnosed with leukemia.

Throughout all those rounds of chemotherapy at the hospital, Elliot never visited. Not once.

The only time he showed up was while I was overseas on business. He walked into that hospital room and pulled the plug on our son's ventilator.

I rushed back from abroad, desperate, frantic, but I didn't even get to see my child's body. All that was left for me was a handful of ashes that scattered the moment the wind touched them.

And Elliot—the devoted husband in everyone else's eyes—had spent the day of our son's funeral in a hotel room with his secretary.

The memory surged through me. I looked down at the pear in my hand, saw Elliot's face, and drove the knife straight into it.

If today weren't such a special occasion, I would have buried that blade in the bastard's chest without a second thought. Without mercy.

Elliot watched me seething in silence, and he laughed again. In his eyes, I was nothing but a Farley household servant. Even if I wanted to lay a hand on him, I wouldn't dare.

I turned to leave. My plan was to wait until the gala wrapped up, then settle the score with this disgusting pair properly.

But before I could take a step, a little boy came running at me and hurled something straight in my direction.

"You evil woman! What are you trying to do to my mommy and daddy!"

Something sharp sliced across my neck. I felt a thin line of cold, and when I reached up to touch it, my fingers came away red. Blood.

Elliot and Gladys's kid stood in front of me with his hands on his hips, chin jutted out in that insufferable way that was a carbon copy of his father.

Something clattered to the floor. I looked down and finally saw what it was: a small pair of scissors.

They weren't big, and a child didn't have much strength behind them, but they'd absolutely broken the skin on my neck.

I walked over, picked up the scissors, and threw them right back without hesitation. Elliot moved fast, lunging forward to shield the kid.

The scissors didn't touch his skin, though. Neither of them had so much as a scratch.

"Imogen! Have you lost your mind? He's a child!"

Gladys let out an ear-splitting shriek, throwing herself into Elliot's arms as she screamed.

"Elliot, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She looked him over from head to toe, then dropped to her knees to inspect the kid.

Once she'd confirmed they were both fine, she stormed over to me and slapped me across the face.

I didn't see it coming. She actually landed it.

But I wasn't someone who took a hit lying down. I slapped her right back.

Elliot clearly hadn't expected that a woman reduced to working as a servant would still have the nerve to fight back. He swung his arm and shoved me to the ground.

"You psycho! What the hell do you want? I get it now. You knew I'd be at the Farley gala tonight, so you planted yourself here on purpose, waiting to hurt my child and my wife!"

Gladys's screaming had already drawn a crowd. Now, with this new commotion, people closed in around us, whispering among themselves.

"Isn't that Mr. Sanchez? Why is he getting physical with a servant?"

"I saw the whole thing. That woman tried to hurt Mr. Sanchez's child!"

"Exactly. His wife got upset and tried to discipline her, and she actually had the gall to hit back!"

"Shameless. Just because she works for the Farleys, she thinks she's one of them? She's not even fit to shine Mr. Farley's shoes!"

I sat on the floor where Elliot had shoved me, listening to every word.

I thought of my own child. The one who was gone.

The bitterness and the absurdity of it nearly choked me. All I'd done was throw a pair of scissors back at Gladys's kid, and Elliot flew into a rage, putting his hands on me.

But my child, my own flesh and blood, had been lying in a hospital bed dying of a terminal illness, calling out for Daddy over and over again.

And he hadn't batted an eye.

I clenched my jaw. My fists tightened until my nails bit into my palms.

A few seconds later, I let go.

Let it go. Pick your battles.

I'd gone to the auction in secret, outbid everyone under a fake paddle number, and bought the Bloodstone Qilin that had been missing from the Farley collection for over a century. All for Dudley. All so I could surprise him tonight.

I wasn't about to let trash like this ruin it.

I got to my feet slowly. Glen had art class today. Dudley would've gone to pick him up by now and should be back any minute.

I needed to find somewhere to hide so I could surprise him and our son.

But the crowd kept running their mouths, each comment uglier than the last. Some called me shameless. Some called me a tramp. One man actually called me a homewrecker.

I genuinely didn't understand. Were these people blind? Where exactly did they get "homewrecker" from?

Did they just assume that when two women appeared near the same man, one of them had to be the other woman?

I shot a murderous glare at the man who'd called me a homewrecker.

He took one look at the venom on my face and shut his mouth.

But Elliot clearly wasn't done with me. Seeing the defiance still burning in my expression, he let out a cold laugh.

"He called you a homewrecker, and he wasn't wrong."

Elliot walked up to me and leaned in close, his voice pitched low enough for only the two of us to hear. "After all, the one who isn't loved is always the other woman."

Then he turned around and took Gladys's hand, raising it high for everyone to see.

"This is my wife. The only woman I will never betray."

The crowd erupted in cheers. People gushed about what a stand-up guy Elliot Sanchez was, what a responsible man.

I watched the spectacle and felt nothing but bitter amusement. On the day we graduated college, Elliot had said those exact same words to me.

Imogen, you're the only woman I'll ever marry. I will never love anyone else as long as I live.

During the years between our first date and our wedding, I'd believed every syllable. He'd given me no reason not to. He was attentive, responsive, present for me and for our child.

Then Gladys Fox appeared, and all of it crumbled to dust.

But if he could fall in love with Gladys while married to me, what guarantee did Gladys have that he wouldn't do the same to her?

A flicker of pity crossed my face before I could stop it. Elliot caught it, and for a second he looked thrown off, as though he assumed his words had wounded me.

He leaned in again, whispering against my ear. "I know things must have been rough for you since you got out of prison. How about this: I'll set you up with a place to stay. Every weekend, I'll come visit you. And if you behave yourself, maybe I'll stay a few extra days."

"Get lost."

I had no interest in entangling myself with Elliot Sanchez ever again. Dudley would be home any minute now.

All I wanted was to surprise my husband.

I turned and started walking away. But the moment I passed Gladys, her leg shot out.

Crack.

I hit the ground hard. The box in my pocket flew out and skidded across the floor.

I tried to push myself up, but the pain that tore through my knees was impossible to ignore.

Through the haze, I heard the whispers starting up again.

"That box looks awfully expensive. How would a servant have something like that? She probably stole it from the Farleys."

Elliot stared at the box, his expression calculating. He clearly believed them. In his mind, I'd stolen it from somewhere.

A second later, he walked over, picked it up, and opened the elegant case in front of everyone.

Nestled inside was the Bloodstone Qilin.

"Isn't that the Farley family's Bloodstone Qilin? The one that's been passed down for centuries?"

Gladys shrieked the moment she saw it.

The fact that the Bloodstone Qilin was a Farley heirloom was no secret in Crestfield. Most people knew it had been stolen over a hundred years ago.

I had spent months tracking down every lead, following every thread, until I finally discovered where the Bloodstone Qilin had ended up. Then I'd placed the winning bid at auction.

All so I could surprise Dudley today.

I never imagined the treasure I'd fought so hard to win would end up in someone else's hands.

I gritted my teeth against the searing pain and forced myself to my feet, reaching for what was mine. But Elliot's grip on the Bloodstone Qilin tightened like a vise, disbelief stamped across his face.

The people around us had recognized it too. Suspicion gleamed in every pair of eyes.

"So that's why you showed up at the Farley estate. For the Bloodstone Qilin."

"Stealing other women's husbands wasn't enough for you? Now you're stealing family heirlooms too?"

Gladys's words set the crowd ablaze. I lunged forward, ignoring the pain, but Elliot seized my arm and held me in place.

"This isn't the real Bloodstone Qilin. Anyone with eyes can see it's a fake." He scoffed. "She was just trying to use this knockoff to swindle the Farleys out of their money."