"Mr. Harris." I shielded my eyes against the blinding midday glare. "Where is Ryan?"

The old butler stood rigidly beside the black sedan. He stared at the pavement, refusing to meet my gaze. "Mr. Carter is wrapping up a shoot, ma'am."

"He promised he'd be here." I gripped the frayed strap of my canvas bag.

I spent three years in a concrete cell for tax fraud. I took the fall to save his acting career. I was his agent. I was his wife. I thought this was a sacrifice I willingly made for our family. Ryan held me the night before my sentencing. He promised he would take care of our son, Noah. He promised he would wait for me.

"When does his work finish?" I asked.

"Soon." Harris opened the rear door. "Please, get in."

"Give me my phone. I need to call him."

"We should head home first."

I slid into the leather seat, the cold air conditioning biting my skin. "Did he at least mention me this morning? Did he say he was sorry he couldn't make it?"

"Mr. Carter had a very early call time," Harris replied stiffly, shutting the door.

I stared out the tinted window as the prison faded into the distance. I assumed Ryan was just protecting his image. We were secretly married. He had to be careful.

The mansion felt entirely foreign when we arrived. I bypassed the silent living room and marched straight upstairs to the master suite.

"I'll bring up your belongings, ma'am," Harris called out from the bottom step.

"Just leave them in the hall," I answered.

I pushed open the heavy bedroom door. A black lace nightgown lay draped across the unmade mattress. A sleek new smartphone rested beside it.

"He remembered," I whispered.

A small smile touched my lips. Maybe I had been too hard on him. Maybe he really was just busy.

I peeled off my stiff prison uniform and pulled the lace over my head. The fabric immediately dug into my ribs. It bunched awkwardly at the chest. It was at least two sizes too small.

Frowning, I snatched the phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up instantly.

My pulse hammered in my ears.

The wallpaper wasn't a picture of me. It wasn't our son, Noah.

It was Ryan. His hands gripped the waist of Vanessa Moore, a C-list actress I had explicitly warned him to avoid before my trial. Her bare chest pressed flush against his open shirt. Her lips were kissing his neck.

"What the hell is this?" I muttered, my fingers trembling.

A notification chimed loudly in the quiet room. A private link flashed across the screen: *My Daily Life with the Best Actor.*

My thumb tapped the alert before I could process what it was.

A live video feed loaded. The camera angle pointed up from a bedside table.

"Fuck, Vanessa," Ryan's voice rasped through the tiny speaker.

The screen displayed their tangled bodies. Ryan thrust hard into her, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress.

"Right there," Vanessa moaned loudly. "God, you're fucking deep."

"Take it all," he grunted, his hips snapping forward with brutal force. "Wrap your legs around me."

I froze. The phone felt like a block of ice in my palm.

Vanessa arched her back, her face twisting in pleasure. "Your wife gets out of prison today. Aren't you worried she'll be heartbroken? You're here fucking me instead of picking her up."

Ryan let out a harsh laugh. He slapped her thigh, leaving a red mark. "She's not crippled. She can find her own way back."

"But she took the fall for you."

"It was her duty." Ryan grabbed Vanessa's hips, pounding into her aggressively. "Without me, Charlotte Ashford is nothing. She's a nobody."

"Oh fuck, Ryan—harder!"

"You like that?" he grunted.

"Yes, fuck, yes."

"Besides," he sneered, his face contorting as he drove deeper. "She's a prude. She never spread her legs like this. You take my dick so much better than she ever did."

Vanessa giggled, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Aren't you afraid she'll divorce you?"

"Let her." Ryan drove into her one last time, groaning loudly. "If she leaves me, she's no different than trash on the street."

I checked the red icon at the top corner of the screen.

*1 Viewer.*

This wasn't a public broadcast. Vanessa had sent this directly to the phone she planted in my bedroom.

A raw scream ripped from my throat.

I dug my fingers into the lace nightgown and tore it off my body. The fabric ripped at the seams. I hurled it at the wall.

My hands shook violently as I yanked my faded jeans and gray t-shirt back on. I bolted out of the room, sprinting down the sweeping staircase.

"Who are you?"

I slammed to a halt on the bottom step.

A little boy stood in the hallway. He clutched a plastic toy car. He had Ryan's dark hair and my bright green eyes.

Noah.

He was only eight months old when I left. He had just learned to say 'Mama'. Now he was three. I missed all of his firsts.

Tears spilled down my cheeks. I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor. "Noah. It's me."

He tilted his head. His face twisted in disgust. "Are you psycho?"

"I'm your mom." I reached out, desperate to pull him into my arms.

Noah shoved my shoulders hard. He stepped backward quickly. "Don't touch me! I already have a mom."

"No, sweetie." I wiped my wet face, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I went away to prison three years ago. I'm back now."

Noah crossed his arms over his small chest. "Oh. You're the ex-con nanny my mom warned me about."

The words struck me like a physical blow. "What?"

"Since you're out of jail, go make dinner." Noah pointed a tiny finger toward the kitchen. "And who said you could go in the master bedroom? Mom says you should be fined a year's salary for that."

"Noah, look at me," I pleaded, my voice cracking. "I'm your real mother."

"You're a liar!" he yelled. "Mom says you're crazy!"

My lungs seized.

I carried him for ten months. I nearly bled out on the delivery table bringing him into this world.

Now, he called Vanessa 'mom'. He called me the ex-con nanny.

I let out a harsh, broken laugh. No tears came this time. Just a hollow, scraping sound echoing from my chest.

Footsteps hurried down the hall. Mr. Harris appeared, quickly grabbing Noah's hand.

"Come along, young master. Let's go to your playroom."

Noah glared at me one last time before letting the old butler lead him upstairs.

Harris returned a moment later. He pulled a sealed white box from his coat pocket and held it out to me. Another phone.

"Perhaps you should wait in the nanny's quarters, ma'am," Harris said quietly. His eyes remained fixed on my shoes. "Mr. Carter will be home soon."

I stared at the box. Then I looked at the man who had managed this house since before I married Ryan. He knew everything. They all did.

"You knew," I stated.

Harris flinched. "Ma'am, I just follow orders."

I snatched the phone from his hand.

"No need," I said, my voice eerily flat.

Harris finally looked up, alarm flashing across his wrinkled face. "Ma'am? What do you mean?"

"I'm not waiting in the nanny's room." I turned toward the heavy oak front doors. "I'm going to find him. I know exactly where he is."

I pushed the door open, stepping back out into the blinding sunlight. I survived three years in a cage for him, and this was my reward. Now, he was going to find out what I could do when I wasn't locked away.

My stomach churned as I pushed through the revolving glass doors.

The marble lobby looked exactly the same. I built this agency from the ground up, even if Ryan’s name sat on the lease.

A burly security guard stepped into my path, blocking the turnstiles.

"Ma'am, unauthorized personnel aren't allowed past the desk," he said.

He scanned my faded jeans and gray t-shirt. Disgust curled his lip. He looked at me like I was trash blown in from the street.

"I need to see Ryan Carter," I said, keeping my chin high. "He's my husband."

The guard barked a harsh laugh.

"Lady, do you know how many crazy women on the internet claim they're married to Ryan Carter?" He shoved my shoulder backward. "Leave before I physically remove you."

"I'm not leaving until I see him."

"Have it your way." He reached for the radio on his belt.

The elevator pinged. The steel doors slid open.

Vanessa Moore stepped out. She wore a crimson silk dress, her lips painted to match. She looked like the queen of the castle.

She paused, her eyes widening in mock surprise.

"Oh my. Charlotte? Is that really you?" Vanessa tapped her chin. "I almost didn't recognize you. You really couldn't wait to see us, could you?"

"Take me to him," I demanded.

Vanessa waved a manicured hand at the guard. "It's fine. She's with me. I'll take her up."

"Are you sure, Miss Moore?" the guard asked, his tone instantly respectful.

"Positive." Vanessa flashed a sickly sweet smile. "Follow me, Charlotte."

We rode the elevator in silence. She led me down the hall to the corner office. My old office.

The heavy wooden door swung open.

Ryan sat on the leather sofa. His white dress shirt hung open, exposing his bare chest. He didn't flinch when I walked in. He didn't look ashamed.

He just frowned.

"How did you find this place?" Ryan asked.

I stared at the closed door behind his desk. The rest area. The room from the video. It was the exact spot where I used to sleep when I worked seventy-hour weeks to secure his first leading role.

"Vanessa sent me a live stream," I said, my voice shaking. "I watched you fuck her."

Vanessa strolled over and perched on the arm of the sofa. She trailed her fingers through Ryan's hair.

"How could you betray me like this?" I asked, stepping closer. "I gave birth to Noah. I went to a concrete cell so you wouldn't have to. I gave up my entire life for you."

Instead of apologizing, Ryan chuckled. He stood up, towering over me.

"Three years ago, you were the gold-medal agent who could take me to the top," he sneered. "But what are you today?"

I clenched my fists.

"You're an ex-con," he stated flatly. "A nobody."

Vanessa pouted, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I was just recording our daily life, Ryan," she said, feigning innocence. "I didn't think she would actually snoop through my private phone. That's not very nice, sister."

"You planted that phone in my bedroom!" I yelled.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Lower your voice. You're giving me a headache."

A laugh ripped from my throat. It sounded entirely wrong in the quiet room—harsh and completely devoid of humor.

"Listen," Ryan said, his tone turning bored. "If you're that obsessed with watching us, maybe you can make yourself useful."

He stepped into my space, glaring down at me.

"Next time Vanessa and I do it, you can join us. You can stand in the corner and hold the camera."

My stomach dropped. The man standing before me was a complete stranger.

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"Security," Ryan called out, pressing a button on his intercom. "We have a trespasser in my office. Throw her out."

The door burst open seconds later. The burly guard from the lobby marched in.

He grabbed my bicep. His grip bruised my skin instantly.

"Get your hands off me!" I shouted.

"Quiet," the guard grunted.

He dragged me out of the office. Ryan turned his back, pulling Vanessa in for a kiss.

The guard hauled me down the hallway, into the elevator, and across the marble lobby. People stared, whispering as I struggled against his hold.

"I told you to leave," the guard growled.

He shoved me through the front glass doors. I stumbled down the concrete steps and hit the pavement hard.

The rough ground tore through my jeans. Skin scraped off my knees.

I sat on the sidewalk, staring at the blood welling up on my legs.

I didn't shed a single tear. Crying over Ryan Carter was a waste of time.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the white phone Mr. Harris had given me.

My hands shook as I dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.

I pushed him away because Ryan was jealous. I cut him out of my life to keep the peace in my marriage. I thought I was doing the right thing.

The line rang twice.

"Hello?" a deep, gravelly voice answered.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"Charlotte?" Damien Blackwood asked. "Is that you? How are you?"

Hearing my name in his voice broke whatever dam I had left.

A sob ripped from my throat.

"Damien," I gasped, the tears finally spilling over my cheeks.

"Stay right there," he said, the line shifting with sudden movement. "I'm coming to get you."

"You don't know where I am," I cried into the receiver.

"I always know where you are," Damien replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And I know exactly what I'm going to do to the man who put you on the street."

"Get in." Damien Blackwood pushed the heavy passenger door open from the inside.

I slid into the leather seat of the idling SUV. The tinted windows instantly blocked out the harsh city glare.

Damien didn't pull away from the curb. His eyes dropped to my torn jeans. He stared at the blood drying on my scraped knees. His jaw tightened until the bone showed sharp against his skin.

"Does Ryan have any idea you are the actual heir to Ashford Entertainment?" Damien asked, his voice dangerously low.

I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. A dry chuckle escaped my lips.

"When I married him, my mother gave me one strict rule," I said, leaning my head against the headrest. "She told me to never tell him what the Ashford name truly means. I thought she was just being paranoid."

I stared at the dashboard. "Turns out, it was the wisest advice she ever gave me."

"Divorce him," Damien stated. He shifted his gaze to my face. "I will put you back exactly where you belong. We can send everyone who hurt you straight to hell."

I turned toward the window. The busy street outside felt like a different universe.

"Divorce?" I asked quietly.

"It's the fastest way out."

"And let Ryan keep squandering the fortune I built?" I met Damien's intense stare. "Let him keep using my network, my skills, and my youth to fund his new life? Absolutely not."

Damien gripped the steering wheel.

"I don't want a divorce," I said, my voice turning to ice. "I will only be a widow."

Damien went perfectly still. The silence stretched between us for three long seconds. Then, a deep laugh rumbled in his chest.

"Step one, then," Damien said, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "You need to show him you aren't desperate for his scraps. Do you know Lucas Bennett?"

"No."

He grabbed a thick manila folder from the center console and dropped it onto my lap. "He is a newcomer in the film industry. He fits Ryan's old archetype perfectly. Just younger, cleaner, and much prettier."

I flipped the cover open. A bright, handsome face stared back at me.

"You kept guys like Lucas buried to make sure Ryan stayed on top," Damien added, pulling the SUV into traffic. "You rigged the game so rookies never had a chance to breathe. Now, his chance has arrived."

I traced the edge of the glossy photograph. The kid had a rare spark in his eyes. He had the exact charm Ryan used to fake.

A genuine smile touched my mouth.

"I can make him every girl's ultimate fantasy by the end of the quarter," I said.

"I believe it," Damien replied.

I closed the folder and rested my hands over it. "I am going to take back everything I lost."

Damien glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "If you need anything, tell me. I am entirely at your service."

An hour later, Damien dropped me off at the edge of the estate.

I walked through the grand front doors of the mansion. The air conditioning chilled the sweat on my neck.

Ryan sat on the velvet sofa in the living room. His arm rested casually around Vanessa's shoulders. Noah sat on the Persian rug near their feet, crashing two plastic toy trucks together.

"Forgot to mention," Ryan said, not bothering to stand up. "Vanessa and I took the master suite."

I stopped at the edge of the rug.

"The PR team wants our relationship to feel authentic," Ryan continued, waving a hand dismissively. "You understand how the industry works. There aren't any spare rooms left, so you'll stay in the nanny's quarters temporarily."

Noah dropped his trucks. He scrambled up and threw his arms around Vanessa's waist.

"Mommy!" Noah yelled.

He pointed a tiny finger at me. "The bad nanny yelled at me today. She pretended to be my real mom. It's so stupid."

Vanessa stroked his dark hair. She offered me a sympathetic pout that didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte," Vanessa said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. "But you have to put his needs first. A mother with a criminal record is a terrible influence on a growing boy. Surely you can understand that."

I kept my face blank. I refused to let them see me bleed.

"We have a fashion gala tomorrow night," Ryan announced, checking his diamond watch. "The food at those events is always garbage. Have dinner ready on the table before we get back."

I crossed my arms. "I didn't cook three years ago."

Ryan frowned.

"If I'm supposed to make dinner," I asked coldly, "what exactly does the nanny's exorbitant salary cover?"

Ryan's expression darkened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don't get to negotiate with me. Without me, you are nothing. Draft my new career strategy tonight. That old plan of yours is useless now."

Vanessa giggled, resting her head against Ryan's shoulder.

"I could manage your schedule, Ryan," she offered lightly. "We run in the exact same circles now. I know exactly what you need. But Charlotte should try to be useful. I'd hate for her to just eat our food for free."

Ryan kissed her temple. He smirked at me. "See? Your entire purpose has been replaced."

I stared straight at Vanessa. "Do you honestly think an agent's only job is knowing how to fuck?"

"Enough!" Ryan slammed his hand against the glass coffee table.

The loud crack made Noah jump.

"She will do a better job than you ever did," Ryan snapped, standing up. "You've been rotting in a cell for three years. You are completely out of touch with the world."

I held my ground.

"Tomorrow morning, my lawyer will send over your company termination papers and a share transfer agreement," Ryan commanded. "Sign them immediately. If you refuse, I'll leak your exact location to my fan clubs. You know how violent they get. I'd hate for you to get hurt."

Noah clapped his hands together. "Daddy is right! The bad nanny needs to listen!"

Ryan grabbed Vanessa's hand and pulled her toward the door.

"We're staying at a hotel tonight," Ryan muttered. "I can't stand the energy in this house right now."

They walked out the front door, taking my son with them.

The heavy oak door clicked shut. Silence swallowed the hallway. I stood alone in the center of the living room I had furnished piece by piece.

Midnight crept in slowly.

I sat at the small wooden desk in the cramped nanny's room. The single bulb overhead flickered.

I opened my laptop. An email from Damien pinged in my inbox. It contained Lucas Bennett's complete portfolio, his contract details, and his upcoming audition schedule.

I clicked the attachment. The bright screen illuminated the dark walls of the tiny room.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I stared at the flashing cursor. Then, I began typing out the first phase of Lucas's launch strategy.

Ryan Carter thought he had won. He thought he had buried me.

But as I hit save on the first document, I knew the truth. His countdown had officially begun.