When my boss tried to force himself on me, Cormac Duffy stormed into the office and beat him so badly he’d never walk the same again.

Soon after, Cormac was ambushed in retaliation and ended up with a broken leg.

I asked him if he regretted it.

He just said, “Nothing is more important than you, Stacia.”

We fought our way to the top together, just so no one could ever hurt us again.

Eventually, we built a company of our own, serving as co-CEOs.

After we got married, he protected me like a rose.

But no matter how he tried to hide it, his affair showed itself.

One day, the woman he was keeping stood in front of me, her pregnant belly on full display, taunting me.

“Cormac said he likes clean women. You’re too dirty for him.”

Just one sentence. That was all it took for me to know that Cormac and I were done.

In turn, I decided to make him suffer—starting with the child in his mistress’s belly.

——

I struck fast.

I did it so fast that his mistress didn’t even have time to react.

She clutched her belly, staring at me in disbelief as blood trickled down her legs.

“You’re insane!” she shouted. “You just killed Cormac’s child! He’s never going to forgive you! You have no idea how much he loves me!”

Her pale little face looked almost pitiful.

Too bad I was never one to soften at a scene like that.

I flicked my hand.

With that, my bodyguard threw another punch at her belly.

This time, she couldn’t even scream.

“Take her to the hospital,” I ordered coldly. “Make sure she doesn’t die.”

As they carried her into the car, I watched her like I were already watching a dead person.

When I got home, I smashed everything in sight.

By the time Cormac arrived, after the butler called him, he walked in on the wreckage.

He stood calmly in the doorway, watching as I shattered the expensive vase he’d just bought last month.

“You’re done with that woman,” I panted, my chest heaving.

When I finally stopped, he slowly pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“She’s nothing special,” he said in an almost lazy tone. “She likes to make a scene, but she’s not a threat, honey. You will always be my wife.”

His indulgent tone sounded less like reassurance and more like a confession of how much she meant to him.

He said it so casually, right in front of his wife, who had stood beside him through ten years of storms!

That made me laugh.

Under his puzzled gaze, I showed him a photo.

“A mistress is still a mistress,” I replied. “If she dares to provoke the wife, teaching her a lesson is only right. Don’t you agree?”

The words [Miscarriage caused by violence] on that report must have set him off.

He had always been calm and composed. But the next thing I knew, he had his hand around my throat.

“Stacia!” he roared. “She’s just a young woman! Why did you have to go that far?”

The last time I’d seen him lose control like this was when my boss had stripped me naked and tried to force himself on me.

Cormac had crippled that beast of a man then.

Seeing him lose control again now only made me feel more satisfied.

“Because she was pregnant,” I said.

His grip tightened, and for a moment, I swore I heard something crack.

“Daddy…”

Our son’s voice snapped him back to his senses.

He loosened his hold slightly, and I seized the chance to hit him hard in the chest.

“Stacia!”

He staggered back, clutching his chest, staring at me like he couldn’t believe what I’d just done.

“You really never change,” he spat.

I told the maid to take our son back to his room. Then, I pulled out the divorce papers.

“Sign these.”

But Cormac didn’t even glance at them before tearing them apart.

“I told you,” he said, his voice low and hard, “you will be my wife for the rest of your life. Not a single day less.”

Then, almost helplessly, he added, “Hillerin won’t compete with you for anything. Why do you have to make this such a big deal?”

He sighed in resignation, adding, “Let’s just forget this ever happened. I’ll even make amends for you.”

Just like that, he strode off, heading straight to comfort that homewrecker Hillerin—without even hearing the last words I said.

Cormac’s idea of “making amends” was to have Hillerin move into the villa next door.

Hillerin, cheeks glowing with pride, stood in the driveway directing movers as they carried her furniture inside.

When she spotted me, she flashed a smug little smile.

“Stacia,” she said sweetly, “I told Cormac I liked your interior design, so he had this one done the same way.”

“Even the nursery has the same layout,” she added.

Cormac came out of the villa just in time to hear that. His expression froze when he saw me, but in the very next moment, he instinctively moved to shield Hillerin behind him.

“Hillerin likes this place,” he said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “And you two won’t be living under the same roof, so you won’t get in each other’s way.”

Seeing him protecting her like that hurt more than I wanted to admit.

He softened his tone.

“Stacia,” he said, “last time, you hurt Hillerin. You should apologize and try to get along with each other from now on.”

I just stared at him, speechless.

What on earth was going through his head?

How could a wife possibly “get along” with her husband’s mistress?

When I didn’t apologize the way he clearly expected me to, a flash of irritation crossed his face.

“Stacia,” his tone dropped, a warning in his voice, “I’m giving you a way to step down gracefully. If it weren’t for me, you’d already be sitting in a police station right now.”

I almost laughed. Even if he wanted to send me to jail, he’d still need evidence.

And I’d already wiped every trace of security footage clean.

If I didn’t have more important things to deal with today, I would have let him see exactly what kind of person I really was.

“Mommy.”

My son’s soft little voice came from behind me. He was holding his teddy bear, standing there quietly as he waited for me.

My expression softened instinctively.

But then, Hillerin crouched down in front of my child.

I started forward to stop her, but Cormac blocked me.

“You must be Daryl, right?” Hillerin said, smiling sweetly. “I heard you’ve been sickly since you were little.”

“Do you know why?” she continued. “It’s because while your mommy was pregnant with you, she was fooling around with all kinds of men. She went too far, and that’s why you were born prematurely. All of this is your mom’s sin. Who knows how much longer you’ll even live?”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “But I’m not like that. I keep myself pure. I’ll definitely give Cormac a healthy child.”

She was just about to turn and gloat at me when my slap sent her crashing to the floor.

My assistant instantly covered my son’s eyes and carried him away.

Hillerin clutched her face, shrieking as she lunged for me. But I grabbed her hair and slapped her again, harder this time.

“How dare you?! How dare you say something like that in front of my son?!”

I was shaking with rage.

“Cormac! Save me!” she shrieked.

Cormac, stunned for a moment, snapped back to his senses and rushed between us.

He seized my wrist and barked, “Enough!”

Then, with a cold glare, he added, “Hillerin isn’t wrong, Stacia. If you hadn’t been messing around with other men while you were pregnant, how could Daryl be so fragile? This is your fault.”

Even knowing how heartless this man could be, his words still pierced me like a blade.

Back when I was seven months pregnant with Daryl, the company Cormac and I built together was facing its biggest crisis—our cash flow had completely collapsed overnight.

If we didn’t find a solution, bankruptcy was inevitable.

Cormac had been ready to give up. But it was I, heavily pregnant, who went door to door begging for investors.

I succeeded. I saved the company.

But because of the overwork and stress, my baby was born prematurely.

Daryl was fragile because of what I sacrificed for the damn company.

And now, they dared twist my effort into something so filthy, so disgusting?!

Cormac had never cared about my suffering—not even a little!

“Just look at yourself right now,” he said coldly. “You’re acting like a madwoman.”

Behind him, Hillerin screamed even louder, clutching her face.

“Cormac! Hit her! I want her to regret ever laying a hand on me!”

Just as I was ready to throw everything away and fight Hillerin to the bitter end, my assistant came rushing out, carrying my son in a panic.

“Ma’am, Daryl can’t breathe!”

We rushed him to the hospital just in time. Thankfully, his condition stabilized soon after.

When Cormac tried to come see him, I shoved him out of the room.

“Stacia,” he said, “stop making a scene. He’s my son, too.”

The bodyguards around us stayed in place, blocking him.

“My son doesn’t need a cheating father,” I shot back.

Seeing that he still wanted to argue, I cut him off with a single question.

“You don’t actually think I’m going to just let her off, do you?”

His face darkened instantly. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

All that fatherly act—still no match for the mistress waiting outside.

I returned to my son’s hospital bed and gently tucked the blanket around him.

He was such a sensible child. Even now, he had never once asked about his worthless father and never questioned me about what was happening between us.

“Mommy,” he said softly, his big eyes fixed on me, “if you and Daddy divorce, I’ll stay with you.”

Suddenly, my heart melted into a puddle.

“Alright,” I whispered, brushing his hair back, “then Mommy will give Daddy one last chance.”

After my warning, Cormac made sure to guard Hillerin like she was a national treasure, keeping her hidden away as tightly as possible.

While I stayed at the hospital with my son, Cormac stayed with his mistress, basking in their sweet little love affair.

He knew me well. As long as Hillerin didn’t parade herself in front of me, I wouldn’t bother with her.

He thought he had it all figured out. But he underestimated just how badly Hillerin wanted to take my place.

She broke away from the bodyguards one day and came straight to me, her face glowing with the arrogance of a victor.

She deliberately flipped her hair so I could see the fresh hickeys on her neck.

“Cormac has never been this passionate with you, has he?” she said, smiling mockingly. “He says you’re like a block of wood in bed. Ha, you can’t even satisfy him.”

Her words barely scratched me.

When I only looked at her with amusement, she pressed on. “So what if I lost my baby? Don’t think Cormac cares that much about your child. He’s sick of having to deal with such a weak, constantly-ill kid.”

“And me?” She placed a hand over her flat stomach and smirked. “I’ll give Cormac a healthy heir. And then, you and that sickly little boy will be thrown out sooner or later!”

There was an ugly, inexplicable hatred burning in her eyes.

My face turned to ice. My son was my bottom line; no one was allowed to hurt him!

“You’re braver than I thought,” I said coldly. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll lay a hand on you?”

But she only laughed and tossed something at me—a pregnancy test kit.

It showed two red lines.

“I bet you won’t dare,” she sneered. “The first time you hit me, Cormac let it slide for the sake of your history together. But if you dare touch me again, he will never let it slide again.”

Her face was full of blind faith in Cormac, the same kind of faith I used to have.

My assistant moved, ready to drag her out, but I raised a hand and stopped him.

With that, Hillerin’s arrogance grew.

“I knew it. Without a man, you’re nothing. “Everything you ever did to me—I’ll make sure you get it all back.”

Laughing loudly, she strutted out.

Indeed, she was too young; too arrogant.

She didn’t understand that people like me, who had crawled up from the dirt, had the hardest hearts of all.

I stood up. My assistant quietly drew open the curtains.

From the window, I looked down.

That little black dot that was Hillerin had just stepped out the door when a speeding motorcycle came out of nowhere, clipping her and sending her rolling more than ten meters across the ground before coming to a stop.

Out of nowhere, several of Cormac’s bodyguards rushed over and quickly carried her away.

“We’re businesspeople now,” I said quietly. “If we can avoid dirtying our own hands, we should.”

“Poor thing,” I added, almost as an afterthought. “Hit by a speeding motorcycle… I wonder if she can still have kids after this.”

I let out a long sigh.