My husband's secretary deliberately ruined a painting I'd spent two years creating.

I was furious. As punishment, I made her work as a maid for three days—cleaning my exhibition.

Austin didn't say a word at first. He acted like nothing had happened.

But three months later, his company declared bankruptcy. He was thrown in prison.

To pay off millions in debt, I worked three jobs a day, running myself ragged.

For three years, I was cornered in alleyways by debt collectors who hurled insults at me. For a hundred dollars, I took a job as a "test sleeper" in haunted houses.

Then one night, while I was serving tables, I heard him—Austin Vance, the man who was supposed to be rotting in a cell—throwing a lavish birthday party for his precious secretary.

A friend asked, "Austin, you gave Kathy Barnes a million-dollar necklace, meanwhile your dear wife is sleeping in haunted houses for a hundred bucks. How do you live with yourself?"

Austin exhaled a plume of smoke, his laugh cold as ice.

"Pearl forced Kathy to be a maid. These three years? They're her punishment."

"Once it's over, I'll pretend I made a comeback."

"She'll still be Mrs. Vance."

My body swayed in the cold wind. I stood there like a broken puppet.

So this was it. Three years of living hell—all orchestrated by you.

Fine then. I'll pay you back double.

——

I felt like I'd plunged into a frozen abyss. And still, voices drifted out from inside—Bertram Walker was speaking.

"Austin, she's still your wife. Before you married her, she was a pampered heiress. Don't you think this is a bit... cruel?"

"Last time I saw Pearl, she looked awful. Gaunt. Hollow. She's probably at her breaking point."

Austin's voice was flat, indifferent.

"We agreed on three full years. Not a day less."

"Besides, there's only one month left. She's made it this far—what's a few more days?"

Bertram hesitated, then spoke again.

"She came to me a while back. Begging. She only wanted to borrow a few hundred dollars."

"The Pearl Sanchez I used to know—the golden girl, born with a silver spoon—I've never seen her that desperate."

Austin let out a cold snort. "You didn't lend it to her, did you?"

"Of course not. You made it clear—anyone who helps her is dead to you. I wouldn't dare."

Through the haze of smoke, Austin's lips curled into a frigid smile.

"Smart man."

"Pearl Sanchez is spoiled. Arrogant. Insufferable. Kathy accidentally damaged one painting, and Pearl made her grovel as a maid for three days."

"Someone that entitled needed to be taught a lesson. And look—three years of punishment, and it worked, didn't it?"

His voice dripped with pride. Satisfaction.

As if his little experiment had reformed me. Made me a better person.

Bertram sighed and swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.

There were things he hadn't told Austin.

That day, I had knelt.

I had unbuttoned my own blouse.

"Just five hundred dollars. Please. I'm begging you."

"Austin is sick in prison. He needs medical care. I'm five hundred short."

They had exchanged glances—then burst out laughing.

"Is this really the Pearl Sanchez we used to know?"

"You were so proud back then. Wouldn't wear shoes that cost less than a thousand. Now you're selling yourself for five hundred?"

I could only kneel there and take it. My face betrayed nothing.

What expression was I supposed to wear?

Every shred of pride, every ounce of dignity—ground into dust by reality.

"If you're willing to pay more..."

My voice broke.

"I'll pose however you want."

Their laughter only grew louder.

Finally, the man who had remained silent spoke. He sat sprawled on the sofa, exhaling a lazy plume of cigarette smoke.

"Leave."

"Even if you knelt here and kowtowed a hundred times, we wouldn't help you."

Because Austin had given them their orders long before.

Punishment was punishment.

For three full years, they were forbidden to show me an ounce of mercy or offer me the slightest convenience.

Only then could they properly avenge his precious secretary, Kathy Barnes.

So how did I scrape together that five hundred dollars?

I walked into a hospital and sold my blood.

Later, I took that money to the prison, only to be told Austin had already been released on medical parole.

The cash changed hands until it finally reached one of Austin's friends.

I was so desperate I nearly dropped to my knees.

"Please—please make sure this money gets to Austin. He can't get into any more trouble."

But at that very moment, Austin was with his little secretary at Disneyland, posing for photos like they didn't have a care in the world.

He tossed that five hundred dollars at a staff member like it was a crumpled receipt.

"Dirty money from god knows where. Disgusting."

Just like my heart—trampled without a second thought.

And now, here was Austin, personally overseeing every detail of Kathy's birthday gala. A blue-and-white porcelain vase worth hundreds of thousands of dollars sat on display as mere decoration.

Every detail had been planned to perfection.

But I couldn't bear to watch anymore.

I nearly lost control more than once. I wanted to storm up there, to slap him across the face so hard my palm would sting for days.

I wanted to demand answers. Why did you lie to me for three years? Just because I made Kathy work as a maid for three days?

I wanted to tear off my clothes and show him every scar, every wound I'd collected over these three years.

But in the end, I did nothing.

I watched the man who should have been behind bars for three more days. He stood there in a suit that cost more than everything I owned, looking every inch the ruthless tycoon.

He pulled Kathy—his little princess—into his arms, his face soft with adoration as he wished her a happy birthday.

Then I turned away, expressionless, and went back to my basement rental.

Dark. Damp. I'd lived here for three years.

The bathroom was right by the door. Mold crept across the walls in patches that had accumulated over months, years. The smell of rot drifted through the air without warning.

When I first moved in, I threw up every single day.

For the first twenty-five years of my life, I'd been pampered. The precious eldest daughter of the Sanchez family. I'd never known a day of hardship.

I was an internationally renowned painter. Awards lined my shelves—so many I'd lost count.

At the height of my success, Austin Vance—the golden heir of the Vance family—got down on one knee and proposed.

After we married, he spoiled me even more.

Just like that, I'd become the woman every girl dreamed of being. The media called me "life's winner."

Until Austin hired a timid, soft-spoken secretary named Kathy Barnes.

She was the daughter of my family's housekeeper, yet she competed with me at every turn.

Her clothes weren't as fine as mine, so she mocked me as a useless trophy wife.

Her skills couldn't match mine, so she whispered behind my back that I'd either been born lucky or slept my way to the top.

Worse still, she'd schemed her way into becoming Austin's secretary—and never missed a chance to poison him against me.

She told him I bullied her mother at home. That I ruined her clothes.

That I'd forced her to kneel and serve me like a maid.

I thought the truth would speak for itself. I never bothered to defend myself.

Until the day I finally finished the painting I'd worked on for two years.

I was about to have it framed. I stepped out for just a moment.

When I came back, it was covered in ink.

Kathy stood nearby, ink bottle in hand, looking insufferably pleased with herself.

"Two whole years you spent on that painting. Let's see how you'll show off in front of Austin now."

I was livid. My hand flew before I could think, cracking across her face.

"You're always spreading rumors that I make you work like a servant," I said coldly. "Fine. For the next three days, you'll actually be one. Clean up my gallery until it sparkles."

But the moment the words left my mouth, the door burst open.

Austin strode in, his brow furrowed. Without a word, he pulled Kathy behind him.

"Pearl, can you control that temper of yours for once?" His voice was ice. "Kathy tries so hard. Yes, she comes from a difficult background—but why do you insist on targeting her?"

My chest heaved with fury. "Austin, get your facts straight. She started—"

Before I could finish, Kathy threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

"Austin, it's all my fault! I was just trying to help Pearl clean her studio, and I accidentally ruined her painting. She said she'd sell me to the red-light district! She called my mother a whore and said the apple didn't fall far from the tree!"

Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face—the picture of wounded innocence.

"I can take being hit. I can take being yelled at. But why does she have to drag my mother into this?"

Austin didn't ask for my side. Didn't investigate. He simply believed her.

His gaze turned frigid. "Pearl, when did you become this person? I'm disappointed in you."

I wanted to scream.

Even with Austin defending her, I refused to back down. For three days, Kathy scrubbed and swept like the servant she'd pretended to be.

When it was over, Austin acted as if nothing had happened. He just sighed—light, dismissive.

"That temper of yours, Pearl. When will you learn to let things go? It was just a painting."

"You've had your revenge. Let's move on."

I was naive enough to believe we had.

A few days later, news broke that Austin's company had collapsed.

He was arrested shortly after, leaving me to deal with the wreckage.

At first, I wasn't worried. Even if the Vance family fell, I still had my parents.

I called them immediately.

Both numbers had been disconnected.

Panic clawed at my throat.

I rushed home, only to have Graham meet me at the door, his face ashen.

The day they heard about Austin's arrest, my parents had raced back to help. A landslide caught their car on the mountain road.

Neither survived.

In a single night, my world collapsed.

No husband. No parents. No one left to lean on.

I sold everything I owned and moved into a damp basement, hiding from the debt collectors who'd bought up Austin's gambling IOUs.

Sleep became impossible. I'd lie awake, flinching at every sound.

Eventually, they found me.

A group of men kicked down my door, armed with metal pipes.

They shattered two of my ribs. Broke my wrist so badly I could never hold a brush again.

It took three years to accept my fate.

I gave up everything—my art, my pride, my dreams—just to survive.

And now I was being told it was all a lie.

Austin's "punishment" had stripped me raw, peeled away everything I was, and rebuilt me into someone I didn't recognize.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Austin.

"Pearl, I'm being released in three days. Don't forget to pick me up."

My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. A dull ache spread through my chest.

Even now, he was still playing his games.

He was already at his birthday party. I'd seen it with my own eyes.

He'd been holding Kathy, celebrating, surrounded by an enormous cake and beautiful decorations.

And yet he was still treating me like a fool.

I stared at those words until tears blurred my vision.

Then I blinked them away and read the message again.