"Divorcing?" Trevor asked. His voice was dangerously quiet. "What do you mean, divorcing me? Who were you talking to?"

Panic flared in my chest, hot and sharp. Had he heard the part about the assets? Had he heard me authorize the transfer?

I forced myself to breathe.

"You humiliated me," I sobbed, the tears coming easily now. "In the hospital. In front of everyone. You blamed me for losing our baby. You said I was incompetent. You said I couldn't be a mother."

"Baby," he said, taking a step into the room. "Please. I was upset. I was grieving too."

"By blaming me?"

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, dropping to his knees in front of me. He looked up with those blue eyes, the same ones that had fooled me for five years. They were wet with unshed tears. It was a masterclass in manipulation. "I am so, so sorry. I love you. I was out of my mind with grief. Please, don't leave me. Not now. Not when we need each other the most."

I looked down at him. I saw the desperation. It wasn't love; it was fear of losing his cash cow.

"You hurt me, Trevor," I whispered. "You really hurt me."

"I know," he said, kissing my hands. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just... don't do this. Don't throw us away because of one bad day. Let me fix it. Let me take care of you."

"Okay," I said softly. "I... I can't just forget it. But I don't want to be alone right now."

"You won't be," Trevor said, standing up and pulling me into a hug. His grip was tight, possessive. "I'm right here. How about we go out? Just us. A quiet dinner. Get out of this house for a bit. We can talk properly."

"Okay," I nodded against his chest. "I'll forgive you. For now."

"Great," Trevor exhaled, the tension leaving his body. He pulled back and smiled, that charming, boyish smile. "Go get changed. I'll make a reservation at Le Jardin. Your favorite."

"Do you love me?" I asked, looking him directly in the eyes.

"More than anything in the world," he lied without blinking.

"Okay," I said, forcing a weak smile. "I'll get ready."

He kissed my forehead and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, my smile vanished.

When I went downstairs, Caroline was waiting in the foyer. She rushed over to me, her face a picture of concern.

"Amber!" she cried, pulling me into a hug. "Trevor told me what happened. Oh my god, are you okay?"

I stiffened in her arms. I could smell her perfume. It was the same scent that had been lingering on Trevor’s shirt for months.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling away. "Just... tired."

"Don't be harsh on him," Caroline said, wiping a fake tear from her cheek. "He's really torn up about the baby, Amber. He loves you so much. Men just... they handle grief differently. You have to forgive him."

It took every ounce of my willpower not to slap her.

"I know," I said. "We're going to dinner to talk things through. Actually..." I paused, an idea forming. If I wanted to torture them, I needed to play their game. "Why don't you come with us?"

Caroline blinked. "Me? Oh, I couldn't. It's a date night."

"Please," I insisted, grabbing her hand. "I need my best friend. It will help keep things calm. Trevor won't mind. He loves having you around."

"Okay," she said, squeezing my hand. "If you're sure. I'll come."

The dinner was a farce.

We sat at a corner table. Trevor sat next to me, his hand on my thigh under the table. Caroline sat across from us, sipping her wine and watching us with a tight smile.

I played the part of the devoted wife perfectly. I leaned into Trevor. I laughed at his jokes. I fed him a bite of my dessert. I kissed him on the cheek, lingering, whispering that I loved him.

Every time I touched him, I saw Caroline’s eye twitch. Every time I laughed, her grip on her wine glass tightened. She was jealous. She was furious that the "broken" wife was suddenly reclaiming her territory.

"I need to use the powder room," Caroline announced abruptly, standing up. She didn't look at me. She looked at Trevor, her eyes burning.

"I'll join you," I said, standing up as well.

I followed Caroline to the restroom. It was empty, thankfully. As soon as the door closed, Caroline spun around to face me.

"You are being too much," she snapped. "Honestly, Amber. Your husband is grieving and you're practically climbing into his lap in public. It's desperate."

"Desperate?" I asked, leaning against the sink. "I'm just loving my husband, Caroline. Is that a problem?"

"It's fake," she hissed. "You were screaming about divorce an hour ago. Now you're all over him? It's pathetic."

"I'm trying to save my marriage," I said calmly. "Unlike some people, I don't give up when things get hard. Trevor needs me. He loves me."

"He feels sorry for you!" Caroline shouted. Her mask was slipping. "He's only with you because he pities you!"

"Is that what you think?" I stepped closer to her. "Or are you just jealous because you're alone, Caroline? You've always been jealous of me. My clothes, my house, my life. And now, you're jealous of my husband."

"I am not jealous!" she shrieked. "I'm your best friend! I'm trying to help you see reality!"

"The reality is," I said, my voice dropping to a cold whisper, "that you are a leech. You've been living off my generosity for years. And frankly, I'm tired of it."

Caroline stared at me, her mouth open. Tears of rage were welling up in her eyes. "How dare you? After everything I've done for you?"

"Done for me?" I laughed. "You mean taking my hand-me-downs? Eating my food? Living in my guest house rent-free?"

Caroline burst into tears. Real, ugly tears of frustration. She stormed out of the bathroom.

I waited a beat, checked my reflection, and followed her.

Back at the table, Caroline was grabbing her purse. Trevor was standing up, looking panicked.

"What the hell is wrong?" Trevor demanded, his voice rising. "Are you picking a fight with your best friend? Now? After everything today?"

"Yes," I said, sitting down and picking up my wine glass. I took a slow sip.

"Why?" Trevor asked, looking at Caroline who was sobbing into a napkin.

"Because she's toxic," I said simply. "And I'm also firing her from the company."

Trevor froze. "What?"

"She's incompetent," I said, shrugging. "She's been mishandling the PR accounts for months. I've been meaning to do it, but today just clarified things. I don't need negative energy in my life, Trevor. And neither do you."

"You can't do that," Trevor stammered. "She's... she's family."

"No," I said, setting the glass down. "She's an employee. And she's fired."

I sat in the dark of my walk-in closet, the glow of my tablet illuminating my face. On the screen, a grainy black-and-white video played. It was a live feed from the hidden camera I had installed in Trevor's study.

"I can't believe she fired me!" Caroline shrieked. "After everything I've done! I've been covering for you for years, Trevor! I've been feeding you inside information! And she just... cuts me off like a dead limb?"

"Calm down," Trevor said, pouring himself a drink. "She's unstable. The miscarriage messed with her head more than we thought. It's just a tantrum."

"A tantrum?" Caroline laughed. “She locked me out of the server, Trevor! She revoked my access card! I can't even get into the building to delete the files! If she finds the dummy accounts… and what if she already knows about us?”

"She won't," Trevor assured her, walking over to wrap his arms around her. "If she does, surely she will not sit tight, and confront me.”

"I want her dead," Caroline sobbed into his chest. "I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of pretending to be her friend. I want her gone, Trevor. Now."

"It's okay, baby," Trevor cooed, stroking her hair. "We're close.”

"When?" Caroline demanded, pulling back to look at him.

"The Charity Gala," Trevor said. "Next Friday. It's the perfect stage. She'll be surrounded by the board, the press, the elite. I've already planted the seeds about her mental instability. We'll stage a breakdown. A public, undeniable psychotic break. I'll have the doctors ready to commit her that night. Once she's in the facility, I get power of attorney by default."

"And then," Trevor kissed her forehead, "she'll be ruined. And I'll get everything. The company, the house, the money. And you."

They kissed. It was hungry and desperate, a celebration of my impending destruction.

I turned off the tablet, my hand trembling slightly.

My phone buzzed in my lap. It was Arthur.

"Everything is ready, Madam," Arthur's gravelly voice came through. "The offshore accounts are active. The domestic assets have been liquidated and transferred. The house deed has been moved to the trust. The divorce papers are drafted and ready for filing."

"Good," I breathed. "And the forensic accounting on Caroline's department?"

"Complete. We have evidence of embezzlement, corporate espionage, and fraud. It's enough to send both of them to prison for twenty years."

"Hold onto it," I said. "I want to drop the hammer when it hurts the most."

"And your departure, Madam? When will you leave?"

"A few days," I said, glancing at the closed closet door. "Prepare the lake house. The one my parents gave me for my twenty-first birthday. It's off the grid. Trevor doesn't even know it exists."

"It will be ready. Be careful, Amber."

"I will."

I hung up and took a deep breath.

I walked downstairs. Trevor was in the living room, nursing a scotch. He looked up as I entered, his face instantly composing itself into a mask of concern.

"Hey," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I lied. "I'm sorry about dinner. I just... I snapped."

"It's okay," Trevor said, standing up. "But Amber... we need to talk about Caroline."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, walking past him to the kitchen. "She's fired."

"She has nowhere to go," Trevor pleaded, following me. "She's been living in the guest house because she can't afford rent in the city. Her salary was her only income. If you fire her and kick her out... she'll be on the street."

"She should have thought of that before she became incompetent," I said, pouring myself a glass of water.

"She's your best friend!" Trevor argued. "She's been there for you through everything! The funeral, the wedding... she loves you, Amber. You're punishing her for trying to help."

"I'm protecting my company," I shot back. "And frankly, Trevor, I don't care where she goes."

Trevor opened his mouth to argue, but his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned.

"It's the hospital," he said, answering it. "Hello? Yes, this is Trevor Black. Who? Caroline?"

I watched him. His face went pale. He looked at me with wide, accusing eyes.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "Is she... okay? We're on our way."

He hung up, his hand shaking.

"Caroline is in the ER," Trevor said, his voice trembling with manufactured outrage. "She tried to kill herself. She took a bottle of pills."

I felt a cold knot in my stomach. It was a move. A desperate, manipulative move to force my hand.

"This is on you," Trevor spat, pointing a finger at me. "You pushed her to this! You fired her, you humiliated her, and now she's lying in a hospital bed because she felt like she had nothing left!"

We drove to the hospital in silence. When we arrived, Caroline was awake, looking pale and fragile in the hospital bed. Her wrist was bandaged—a hesitation mark, I noted. Enough for attention, not enough for death.

"Amber," she croaked when she saw me. Tears filled her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

Trevor stood by her side, holding her hand. The nurses looked at me with thinly veiled judgment. I could hear the whispers in the hallway.

The narrative was already spinning. If I didn't act now, I would be the villain before the Gala even started.

"I'm so sorry, Caroline," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know you were struggling this much. I was just... I was projecting my own pain onto you."

"It's okay," Caroline sniffled. "I just want my friend back."

"You have her," I said, taking her other hand. "And you have a home. You can't stay in the guest house alone. It's too isolated."

Trevor looked up, surprised. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying she should move into the main house," I said, looking Trevor dead in the eye. "With us. Until she gets back on her feet. I'll reinstate her at the company, too. On probation."

"Really?" Caroline asked. "You'd do that?"

"Of course," I smiled. It was the warmest, most loving smile I could muster. "We're family, aren't we? Families stick together."

"Thank you, Amber," Trevor said, squeezing my shoulder. "You're doing the right thing."

"I know," I said.

But as I walked out of the hospital room to get some air my smile remained.

In just a few days, they will be ruined.

"Thank you so much, Amber! You have no idea what this means to me."

Caroline was practically vibrating with excitement. She stood in the center of the ballroom, directing the florists with a manic energy that bordered on frantic. The Charity Gala was her baby now. I had handed it over to her on a silver platter two days ago, citing my "fragile state" and need for rest.

"It's been my dream to host this," Caroline gushed. "I've always wanted to be the one on stage, welcoming everyone. You're the best, really."

"You deserve it," I said, forcing a weak smile. "You've worked so hard. And honestly, I don't think I could handle the crowd right now. The noise... it's too much."

"Don't worry about anything," Caroline said. "I'll make sure everything is perfect. You just focus on getting better."

Later that evening, I sat in the library, staring blankly at a book I wasn't reading. Trevor came in, closing the door softly behind him.

"Hey," he said, sitting on the arm of my chair. "How are you feeling? You look pale."

"I'm... okay," I lied, letting my voice tremble. "Just tired. My head feels foggy."

"Is the medicine helping?" he asked, watching me closely. "Dr. Evans said it might take a few days to kick in fully."

"I think so," I said, rubbing my temples. "I just feel... heavy. Like I can't wake up."

"That's normal," Trevor soothed, stroking my hair. "It's the sedatives. They're supposed to help you sleep. You need rest, Amber. You've been through a trauma."

I leaned into his touch, suppressing the urge to recoil. I knew exactly what the "medicine" was. I had been chewing the pills every night and flushing them down the toilet. But I had to play the part. I had to be the broken, medicated wife who was slowly losing her grip on reality.

That night, as I lay in bed feigning sleep, I heard Trevor on the phone in the hallway.

"It doesn't seem to be working fast enough," he whispered. "She's still lucid. She's tired, yeah, but not... broken. We need to up the dosage before the Gala. I need her completely out of it when she signs the papers."

The next three days were a performance. I stumbled. I slurred my words. I "forgot" conversations we had just had. I spent hours staring at the wall, crying over nothing. Trevor and Caroline watched me with predatory satisfaction, convinced their plan was working.

On the morning of the Gala, I didn't get out of bed.

Trevor came in with a tray of breakfast and a stack of documents. He looked sharp in his tuxedo, ready for his big night.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, setting the tray down. "You need to eat something. And... I need you to sign these."

"What are they?" I mumbled, squinting at the papers.

"Just some routine authorizations for the Gala," Trevor said smoothly, uncapping a pen. "Vendor contracts, liability waivers. Nothing important. But we need your signature to release the funds for tonight."

I looked at the papers. Buried in the stack of invoices was the Power of Attorney transfer.

"Okay," I whispered. "I trust you."

I signed.

"Perfect," he said, kissing my forehead. "You're doing great, babe. Now, try to get some rest. I know you said you wanted to come later, but honestly... maybe you should just stay here. It's going to be overwhelming."

"I'll try," I said weakly. "But if I feel up to it... I want to see Caroline shine."

"We'll see," Trevor said, already backing out of the room. "I have to go help her set up. I'll call you later."

"Okay. Have fun."

The moment the front door closed and the sound of his car faded down the driveway, I threw off the covers.

I grabbed the duffel bag I had hidden under the bed days ago. Inside was cash, a burner phone, my passport, and the hard drive containing every piece of evidence Arthur and I had gathered.

I walked out of the house.

As I drove away from the estate, I felt a pang of sadness for the girl who had moved into that house full of hope, but it was quickly replaced by the cold resolve of the woman driving away.

I pulled over at a rest stop an hour later. I took out the tablet and connected to the Gala's live stream.

The ballroom was packed. And there, on the stage, stood Trevor and Caroline.

"Thank you all for coming," Trevor said into the microphone. "My wife, Amber, sends her deepest regrets. As many of you know, she has been struggling with... health issues recently. The loss of our child was devastating, and she is taking some much-needed time away to heal."

"But," he continued, brightening, "she insisted that the show must go on. And she wanted to share a special message with all of you tonight. A video tribute to the resilience of the human spirit, and to the future of the company.”

Caroline beamed beside him, clutching his arm.

"Please," Trevor gestured to the massive screen behind them. "Turn your attention to the screen."

I smirked.

I had swapped the file on the server ten minutes before I left the house. Arthur had given me the backdoor access codes. They hadn't even checked it. They were so arrogant, so sure of my incompetence, that they hadn't bothered to verify the file.

Now, it would ruin them.

I turned off the tablet.

I picked up my phone and typed a single message to Trevor's number.

Have a happy life without me, ex-husband.

I tossed the phone out the window and drove into the night.