Vivien hit the floor from the slap, clutching her face, staring up at me in disbelief.

“Kay Simmons, you've lost your mind!”

Bartholomew's expression darkened. He lunged forward and shoved me aside so hard

I slammed into the wall. Pain exploded through my spine and my vision went black at the edges.

He didn't spare me a single glance. Instead, he gathered Vivien into his arms, cradling her like she was made of glass,

“Vivien, are you hurt anywhere?”

I braced myself against the wall and steadied my legs. Watching him shield her, tears blurred everything, and something in my chest felt like it had been ripped clean out.

“I've lost my mind?”

Bartholomew frowned, his eyes full of nothing but disappointment,

“When did you become so vicious? So cruel? You don't act anything like a Vance wife should.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron, and laughed. A hollow, wretched sound.

Then Vivien's face drained of color. She clutched her stomach, whimpering softly,

“Bartholomew, my stomach hurts so much. Our baby……”

His eyes went wide. He scooped her up instantly and turned toward the door.

Her words detonated inside my skull.

I stepped in front of them. I stared, unable to process what I'd just heard, and a mouthful of blood rose in my throat and spilled past my lips.

“She's pregnant?”

Vivien peeked out from Bartholomew's arms, crying her delicate, pitiful tears,

“Kay, the baby is innocent……”

Bartholomew looked at me. Not a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. Vivien is pregnant. You can't conceive. The Vance family needs an heir.”

One sentence, and the cold sank into every bone in my body.

He resented me for not being able to carry a child.

But years ago, when a rival family came for his life, I was the one who threw myself in front of the blade meant for him.

I didn't even know I was pregnant until I was in the hospital. The baby didn't survive. The knife damaged my uterus, and the doctors said conceiving again would be close to impossible.

Still, I tried. Hundreds of fertility injections. Months of agony. All to give him a child.

Against every odd, I finally conceived. Everyone was overjoyed. And then Vivien's brother killed my baby.

Bartholomew knew all of this. Every last detail of my pain. And now he used the cruelest words he could find and drove them straight into my heart.

He kept talking, casual, offhand, as though he were bestowing some magnificent gift.

“I promised you the position of Mrs. Vance would always be yours. No one can replace you. I won't go back on my word.”

“Once the baby is born, it'll be registered under your name. You'll raise it. Consider the child your compensation. You'll still be the only mistress of the Vance household.”

I broke. Laughter tore out of me, ragged and unhinged, while tears poured down my face and my whole body shook beyond my control.

“Enough!”

Bartholomew's face twisted with impatience.

“We'll talk when you've calmed down.”

He didn't look at me again. He carried Vivien out and the door swung shut behind them.

“BANG.” The sound rattled through the empty room.

I collapsed onto the cold floor and sobbed until my lungs burned and my throat felt shredded.

I didn't know how long I lay there. Only that by the end, something inside me had gone completely still.

After a long time, I wiped my face dry and drove straight to the most prestigious law firm in the city.

“I want a divorce. Draft me a divorce agreement.”

I sat across the desk, my voice flat. Dead water.

Lottie Fox was a friend I'd met through work and a senior partner at the firm.

The second the words left my mouth, her pen froze mid-stroke. She stared at me.

“Divorce? Kay, what kind of joke is this? It's not April Fools'.”

“I'm not joking.”

I kept my eyes down. My voice was barely a whisper.

“Bartholomew cheated.”

Lottie went rigid. Her pen clattered onto the desk.

“Him? How could he cheat?”

I let out a bitter half-laugh. Every breath sent a fresh tremor through my fingertips, and the hollow ache behind my ribs wouldn't stop.

“Just get the agreement done as fast as you can.”

Lottie didn't push further. She typed up the document quickly and slid the divorce agreement across the desk.

“Based on the paperwork you brought, he leaves the marriage with nothing.”

I picked up the agreement. My fingers trembled.

When Bartholomew proposed, he'd written out that document himself, swearing to me with absolute solemnity.

“Kay, if I ever wrong you, I'll give you everything I have.”

He was so certain I would never leave. So confident that my love for him would never fade.

But he forgot. I was someone who loved fiercely and cut just as clean. The man I loved was the boy who once treated me like I was his whole world.

I blinked away the last of my tears, took the divorce agreement, and walked out of the firm.

Once I was in the car, I dialed the number of Bartholomew Vance's fiercest rival.

“Mr. Delgado. I have a business proposition. Interested?”

Irvin Delgado let out a low laugh, his tone lazy and unhurried,

“Is Mrs. Vance fishing for intel on her husband's behalf, or coming to negotiate a truce?”

“Neither.”

I stared out the window. My eyes were cold and lightless.

“I want you to destroy Bartholomew Vance.”

Silence on the other end.

I continued,

“The Southgate Project is in my hands. If you're willing to work together, I can convince the investors to give Delgado Group the contract.”

“You know whoever lands it becomes untouchable in this city. In the entire industry.”

Irvin's voice carried a new edge of curiosity,

“A deal like that, and you'd hand it to me? Had a fight with Mr. Vance?”

My gaze hardened, every word precise,

“A man who cheats on me deserves everything that's coming to him.”

A few seconds of silence. When Irvin spoke again, there was genuine admiration in his voice,

“Ms. Simmons. I look forward to our partnership.”

I hung up and texted my private investigator.

【Look into Vivien Pruitt's brother for me.】

Between now and the day the divorce was final, I would find every last piece of evidence. And I would make him pay.

After everything was done, I went home. I stood in the place I'd lived for five years, looked at everything around me, and felt nothing but the absurdity of it all.

I didn't know how long I stood there before the door opened. Bartholomew walked toward me, frowning.

The jasmine perfume Vivien always wore reached me before he did.

“Have you come to your senses?”

He took off his jacket like nothing had happened, waiting for me to say I accepted them.

I let out a bitter laugh. Looking at this stranger wearing my husband's face sent a dull ache through my chest.

I didn't speak. I slipped the divorce agreement behind the gift registry and held it out to him.

His brow creased. He snatched it from me impatiently.

“What now? Who's that sour face for? If you want something, just say it. Bags, watches, jewelry. I can get you whatever you want.”

I lowered my head, a hollow smile pulling at my lips. In his eyes, every emotion I had was just me being difficult. Every wound could be paid off.

I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat and pushed the papers toward him, my voice eerily calm.

“Bartholomew, sign this. Consider it my compensation.”

He glanced down, assuming I was throwing a tantrum and needed gifts to settle me down.

After all, whenever he'd upset me in the past, it always took a pile of presents to coax me back. He figured now was no different.

He flipped to the first page. A full spread of luxury items. He didn't so much as blink before signing his name.

“Kay, stop being upset. You know you'll always be Mrs. Vance. The promises I made you will never change.”

He started to hand the signed pages back.

I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, the pain making my hands shake. I turned to the next page and pushed it in front of him again.

“Sign this one too.”

Confusion flickered across his face, and he was about to look more carefully when his phone rang.

It was Vivien. On the other end, her voice was choked with tears, saying she'd had a nightmare and was scared.

Bartholomew's composure cracked in an instant. He dropped the papers and turned to leave.

I stepped in front of him, my voice cold.

“It's just a signature. It won't keep you from running to her.”

Seeing I wouldn't budge, he scrawled his name and bolted out the door without even grabbing his coat.

I watched his retreating back, then looked down at his signature on the divorce agreement. The last trace of warmth in my chest went dark.

Everyone in our circle knew he'd treated me like a princess.

We'd walked from the innocence of our school days all the way to the altar.

Five years ago, the wedding that stopped the city. Millions spent. Fireworks filling the sky. He knelt before me and swore on his life that I would be the only one.

Now I knew how cheap his promises were, how short a shelf life his love carried.

I gathered the papers and gripped them until my knuckles went white.

Then I turned and walked upstairs to the bedroom to pack.

Some time later, noise rose from the first floor. I went downstairs.

Bartholomew had Vivien tucked against his chest, giving instructions to the household staff.

Vivien stood there with red-rimmed eyes, looking fragile enough to snap.

When she saw me, her body flinched. She dropped her gaze, her voice a teary, quivering whisper.

“Kay, I really didn't want to intrude. But I kept having nightmares, and Bartholomew was afraid something might happen to me, so he……”

“But I promise, I don't want a title. I don't want anything. I just want to carry this baby safely to term, and the moment it's born, I'll leave. I won't cause you any trouble.”

The more she spoke, the more agitated she became, pressing a hand to her chest as a violent cough overtook her.

Bartholomew's expression changed instantly. He pulled Vivien into his arms, then whipped his head toward me, his voice sharp with accusation.

“Vivien is your best friend. She belongs here. Stop giving her that cold look and scaring her.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. From start to finish, I hadn't said a single word. And somehow, I was the one at fault.

“Bartholomew, did I say one word?”

He froze for a few seconds. His jaw twitched, his mouth opening and closing before he managed to speak.

“Kay, stop being petty. Vivien is carrying my child. It's not safe for her out there. Starting today, she stays here. I give you my word, the moment the baby is born, I'll send her abroad.”

I stood rooted to the spot, watching the husband I had loved for years bring another woman into our home right in front of me.

Watching the best friend I'd once risked my life to save, the woman I'd treated like family, waltz through my front door to take everything that was mine.

I stared at the two of them, and the cold swallowed me whole.

I bit down on the soft flesh of my cheek to keep myself conscious, then turned and walked back to the bedroom, one step at a time.

From the living room drifted the low, tender murmur of their voices, and every syllable carved into me like a blade drawn slow across what was left of my heart.

The next morning, I had barely made it downstairs when I saw Vivien lounging on my favorite spot on the couch, wearing the silk nightgown Bartholomew had given me for my birthday.

He was peeling cherries by hand, feeding them to her one by one, his fingertips brushing the juice from the corner of her lips with a tenderness that turned my stomach.

“Slow down. You're like a little kitten begging for treats.”

“Bartholomew, you're so good to me.”

I gave a mocking smile."Indeed, how about I divorce Bartholomew and the two of you get married?"

Vivien ducked her head, coy and blushing, but the moment she spotted me, she flinched like a startled rabbit. She scrambled to her feet, tripping over herself to apologize.

“Kay, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wear your clothes or sit in your spot……I'll go change right now.”

The tears spilled as she spoke, perfectly timed, perfectly pitiful.

Bartholomew pulled her back down immediately, his cold gaze cutting toward me like a blade.

“Kay, can you show a little class? Vivien is pregnant. She's fragile. It's a nightgown and a seat. Do you really have to make her feel this way?”

I stared at the scene in front of me, and all I felt was the absurdity of it.

My husband, in my home, hand-feeding another woman fruit.

My best friend, wrapped in my things, sitting in my place. And I was the one expected to be gracious about it.

Looking at her now, I started to wonder whether the girl I remembered had ever been real.

Back in school, when other kids picked on me, Vivien had grabbed a broom and charged in to shield me. ：“Anyone who touches Kay goes through me first.”

When my first boyfriend broke my heart, she stayed up with me until dawn, drinking and talking. ：“Forget him. Men are nothing. I'll always be here.”

After I donated my kidney for her, she had dragged herself out of her own hospital bed to collapse at the side of mine, sobbing until she passed out, gripping my hand.

“For the rest of my life, you will be the person closest to my heart.”

I had believed it then. I believed friendship outlasted love. I believed she was the light in my darkest hours.

But now she had taken my husband, was carrying his child, had moved into my home, and still had the nerve to play the victim.

“Bartholomew,” my voice trembled, but I forced it steady, “this is my home. What gives you the right?”

Vivien only cried harder.

“Kay, please don't say that……it's all my fault. You can yell at me, hit me, anything, just don't fight with Bartholomew. I just love him too much, and I can't give up this baby.”

“Enough!”

Bartholomew's voice cracked through the room like a whip.

“Kay, if you keep pushing Vivien, don't blame me for what happens next.”

I closed my eyes. There was nothing left to say. I turned and went back upstairs.

The moment I was back in my room, a message arrived with the driving records from the night of the accident, tracing Vivien's brother Neville's route.

I opened my laptop. The first thing that filled the screen was our photo, the three of us together.

Almost involuntarily, I clicked into an old folder. It was full of memories, all of us, from before.

I scrolled through the pictures one by one, and every swipe felt like a thousand needles driven into my chest.

I didn't understand how we had ended up here.

My thoughts were still churning when the door opened. Vivien walked in carrying a cup of warm water, an apologetic look painted on her face.

“Kay, I know you're upset. I made you some soup. Please don't let the anger make you sick.”

I didn't want to acknowledge her.

But she leaned in close, and her hand jerked. The entire bowl of soup tipped onto my arm. Scalding heat seared through my skin, and the breath hissed between my teeth.

I shoved her away on instinct. She stumbled backward, and the tears fell instantly.

“Kay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!”

As she spoke, she dropped to her knees in a show of panic, gathering the broken shards of the bowl, and dragged a piece of porcelain deliberately across her finger. A bead of blood welled up and rolled down.

My arm was swollen and angry red. I had no patience for her theatrics. I turned toward the bathroom to run cold water over the burn.

Before I could take a step, Bartholomew came rushing in, drawn by the commotion.

One look at the scene and his expression twisted.

“Kay, you!”

He went straight to Vivien, pulling her up from the floor, cradling her bleeding finger with exaggerated care while her eyes stayed swollen and red from crying.

She kept her head low, tears streaming down her face like rain on blossoms.

“Bartholomew, don't blame Kay. Maybe she didn't like the soup I made, so she knocked it over……I made a mess of her room, but please don't be angry with her. She didn't mean it.”

His face went dark. He didn't even glance at me. He seized my wrist and snarled in my face.

“Do you have any idea how long Vivien stood in that kitchen making soup for you? You couldn't even be grateful, and then you let her kneel on the floor picking up broken porcelain? How can you be this cruel? Apologize to her. Now.”

“She spilled it on me herself!”

The burn screamed against my skin, but I kept my voice cold and steady.

“Let go of me!”

I couldn't stand looking at either of their faces for another second. I just needed the pain to stop.

“And you still have the nerve to argue! Is this how you carry yourself as Mrs. Vance?”

My defiance sent him over the edge. He called the bodyguards and had them drag me out to the garden.

“Take her outside. She doesn't come back in until she apologizes to Vivien.”