I tossed the last love letter into the flames and watched as the fire devoured the final word. Only then did I speak, voice light and indifferent.

“Nothing important—just some useless things.”

He stared at the burning papers, watching familiar handwriting curls and blacken in the heat. Something about it felt wrong to him, and he opened his mouth to ask.

But Cassidy tugged on his sleeve first. “Brother-in-law, the children are getting sleepy.”

Joaquin cleared his throat awkwardly, his voice a little strained. “I plan to have the children stay in the nursery downstairs.”

“That nursery was for my baby!” The words burst from me before I could stop them—sharp and louder than I ever expected.

I looked down and saw my hand resting on my now-flat stomach.

Of course. That nursery was meant for my child.

“They are my children,” Joaquin said firmly, unmoved.

I scoffed and said nothing more. After tonight, none of this would have anything to do with me anyway.

He sighed and crouched beside me, lowering his voice. “Allison, if you’re willing, they can be your children too.”

Scoffing, I spat coldly, “I don’t want anything that comes with that kind of price.”

Behind us, Cassidy let out a soft, pitiful sob—just loud enough for the twins to start crying too. Joaquin immediately turned and rushed to comfort them.

I didn’t bother stopping him.

As soon as I closed my bedroom door, my phone buzzed with dozens of videos and photos—courtesy of Cassidy.

Every one of them was a record of her intimacy with Joaquin.

I scrolled through three years’ worth of passionate embraces, stolen kisses, hotel bookings. I thought I’d feel something—rage, heartbreak, nausea.

But no.

It was like watching a stranger’s drama unfold. Detached, numb, almost analytical.

I could even sense the fake joy Cassidy tried to display at times.

Then the barrage of text messages came next. She detailed every luxury Joaquin had spent on her.

The private ski chalet in Switzerland.

The penthouse apartment in Paris.

The seaside resort in Hawaii.

[Sis, did you like the perfume I sent? It’s been a while since someone gave you a gift, hasn’t it? That was a freebie from when your husband bought me new jewelry. I figured you’d appreciate it.]

[You thought marrying Joaquin made you better than me? I’m the mother of his children. To the world, you’re just the pathetic secretary who kept throwing herself at him.]

I turned off my screen and climbed into bed. Soon, none of this would matter anymore.

The room was dark when Joaquin returned.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching me.

“Allison, you’ve crossed the line lately. That’s why I had to punish you a little. But if you just apologize to Cassidy and the kids, we can move on from this.”

He paused, then added, “Besides, isn’t your father’s company still waiting on funding from Davies Group?”

I let out a tired sigh. “What’s between us has nothing to do with business.”

In truth, that company was built by my mother—her blood, sweat, and tears. I couldn’t let her life’s work be threatened.

His eyes lit up at my words. He eagerly grabbed my hand.

“As long as you apologize, our two families can continue working together.”

Before I could answer, his phone lit up.

A new message from Cassidy.

I glanced at the screen.

It was a sultry video of her dressed in a tiny uniform skirt, performing a provocative pole dance.

I saw his body tense immediately.

He stood up in a rush, his voice husky with desire. “I’ve got something to handle. Think things over while I’m gone.”

And with that, he turned and left.

Three minutes later, I received another video from Cassidy.

On the screen, Joaquin was holding her in his arms.

Her long red nails trailed across his muscular back, leaving scratches that burned into my eyes like fresh wounds.

I blinked away the sting, but sleep dragged me under.

By morning, I was jolted awake by the overwhelming scent of gardenias.

Joaquin sat by the bed. When he saw me stir, he cleared his throat.

“Allison, just apologize to Cassidy and the kids. Then we can move on.”

I shook my head, saying nothing.

He glanced at me and sighed again. His expression was so absurd, I almost laughed out loud.

Why should I, the one who’s been hurt, apologize to the people who hurt me?

How could I apologize for something I didn’t even do?

When I stepped outside the room, I found Cassidy already seated at the dining table, directing the nanny to feed the twins.

“Sis, come join us. Brother-in-law and I prepared your favorite breakfast,” she said sweetly, eyes flashing with ill intent.

I ignored her and turned to leave, but Joaquin grabbed my arm and pulled me to the table.

“Auntie! I want Auntie to feed me!”

“Auntie! Auntie!”

The twins suddenly began shouting. Joaquin laughed and set them on his lap before pushing them toward me.

“They like you. Come on, feed them.”

I stared at the bowl of mango puree in my hand, and my skin instantly prickled.

I’m allergic to mango.

But at that moment, I had no way out.

Forcing myself, I gave each child a spoonful.

They both spat it out immediately.

“I don’t want it! I want Auntie to eat it! Auntie eat it!”

Joaquin remained oddly patient. “Allison, just eat a little. They really like you.”

“I can’t eat it. I—”

“Boohoo! Auntie’s being mean again! Bad Auntie!”

Their cries cut me off. Joaquin’s face darkened.

“Allison, how much do you hate these kids? Why do you keep hurting them?”

“Exactly,” Cassidy chimed in sweetly. “They’re only doing this because they like you. You’ll scar them for life if you keep acting this way.”

The children wailed louder, and I snapped. “I can’t eat it! I’m allergic to mango!”

Cassidy’s voice slithered like a venomous snake. “Sis, please don’t raise your voice. You’ll frighten the kids. They’ve been through so much lately.”

The next second, Joaquin slammed his hand on the table, grabbed the bowl from me, and forced the mango puree into my mouth.

It choked me so badly that juice sprayed out my nose.

And then everything spun. I collapsed, retching violently.

My throat burned like it had been seared by fire.

My vision blurred, my breathing weakened, and just before I passed out, I saw Joaquin’s panicked expression flicker across my eyes.

“Water... Help... Help me...”

—

When I opened my eyes again, the house was empty.

It was the last day.

I packed my things and went to the office to hand in my resignation.

But as soon as I entered, I noticed the strange looks from my coworkers—sympathetic, uncomfortable glances.

Given how wrecked I looked, I was surprised they hadn’t mistaken me for a homeless lunatic.

“Could you help me get to the top floor?” I asked the front desk receptionist with a faint smile.

She hesitated for a moment, then gently advised, “Miss Allison... maybe it’s better if you come back tomorrow.”

I shook my head. There was no more time.

She sighed and escorted me to the elevator. Only when I reached the top floor did I realize a major investment conference was happening.

No wonder she was hesitant—she probably thought my appearance was inappropriate for such a formal event.

Before she left, she looked at me seriously. “Miss Allison, I think you’re an amazing woman. Maybe... you don’t need a man or marriage to be happy.”

I wasn’t sure why she said it, but I smiled and nodded.

She was right. A woman’s happiness shouldn’t be tied to a man or a marriage.

I made my way to the Davies Group’s CEO office, familiar with every step.

I was here to submit my resignation.

But as soon as I opened the door, I felt everyone’s eyes on me.

“Well, well. Isn’t it Secretary Flores? What’s with the getup today?”

“She can barely walk and she’s still throwing herself at President Davies. His charm must be something else.”

“Didn’t she drink 99 shots for him at that party once? Shouldn’t she at least get a title by now?”

Their mocking laughter buzzed in my ears like flies. And suddenly, a terrible sense of foreboding washed over me.

Joaquin stood in the center of the lobby, his expression dark and unreadable.

"Hahaha, looks like Secretary Flores still doesn’t know what’s going on," someone sneered.

As soon as the words fell, the massive LED screen on the wall lit up.

Photos of Joaquin and me began looping on the screen. Some appeared intimate, but most captured me desperately clinging to him—kneeling to tie his shoelaces, shielding him from alcohol at business dinners, walking out of hotels looking disheveled while still carefully carrying his suit jacket.

I glanced at Joaquin. He said nothing as he stared at the images.

Of course he wouldn’t. To outsiders, I’d always been the clingy secretary trying to sleep her way to the top. A scheming woman chasing after the CEO.

But what they didn’t know—what no one expected—was that the “scheming secretary” was actually his wife. And judging from Joaquin’s silence, he had no intention of setting the record straight.

Still, none of that mattered to me anymore.

I just wanted to finalize my resignation and leave.

But just as I turned to go, a crisp child’s voice sliced through the chaos.

“Daddy!”

Cassidy, dressed in an elegant Dior couture outfit, strolled out from the elevator, a gentle smile on her face. She was holding hands with a pair of identical twins.

The three of them walked lovingly toward Joaquin.

He looked at them, then at me. In the end, he reached out and scooped up the children.

"President Davies, aren't you going to explain?" someone asked, laughing coldly.

"If Secretary Flores is no longer yours, then don’t blame your brothers for not holding back.”

Joaquin took a deep breath, holding the twins in his arms. His voice was calm but final.

“I will always choose my family.”

With that, he walked away.

Cassidy shot a look toward a few greasy middle-aged men nearby. Immediately, they surrounded me.

“Well, if it isn’t Secretary Flores. What happened to you?” sneered one bloated department manager, eyeing my wheelchair with a wicked grin.

“Always acting so pure and untouchable... Turns out you’re just trash behind closed doors,” chimed in a deputy general manager I’d rejected countless times before. His gaze slithered over my ruined legs and bruised face.

Their filthy words splashed over me like sewage.

“Look at her now. Pretending to be some chaste saint before—what a joke. She’s nothing but used goods.”

“Get away from me! Get away!” I screamed hoarsely, using every ounce of strength to fight them off.

One man reached out to touch my face. I jerked away, and my wheelchair tilted dangerously from the violent struggle. I could feel myself slipping. Only one thought raced through my mind—don’t let them touch me.

The moment before I fell, my hand instinctively reached into my pocket and brushed against my phone.

I didn’t even check the screen—I just shakily tapped the contact for Joaquin.

The call connected. His voice, tinged with impatience, came through.

“What is it?”

“Joaquin... help me... please... help me...” My voice trembled, broken by fear and desperation.

"Brother-in-law, is my sister throwing another tantrum again?" Cassidy’s sweet voice chimed in the background.

Then Joaquin spoke again, this time lowering his voice.

“Don’t mind her. Let her make a scene if she wants. I’m spending time with the kids right now.”

He hung up.

And in that moment, my world shattered completely.

My last hope—snuffed out by the very man I had once trusted most.

I looked around at the predatory faces closing in, their eyes gleaming with malice and lust. Their gaze wrapped around me like venomous snakes.

“No! Get away from me! Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing with the last remnants of strength.

My vision blurred, and darkness pulsed at the edges. In my mind, only one thought remained.

Jump. Just jump.

—

Three minutes later, Joaquin’s phone rang again.

“President Davies! Something terrible has happened—Secretary Flores... she jumped from the building!”