Sunlight burned through the curtains, stabbing into my eyes.

I was still on the bathroom floor. My body ached from sleeping on cold tile. My throat was raw from crying and vomiting. The emerald gown I had spent three months choosing was wrinkled and stained.

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

"Mrs. Poltort," a male voice called. "Mr. Poltort requests your presence in his study. Now."

I dragged myself up, using the sink for support. My reflection was a disaster. Mascara streaked my cheeks. My hair had fallen from its elaborate updo. I looked like exactly what they wanted me to look like.

Like a guilty woman caught in her lies.

I splashed cold water on my face and walked to the door.

It opened before I could touch the handle. One of Tyron's guards stood there, his expression blank.

"This way."

He didn't wait for me to respond. He turned and walked down the hallway. I followed, my bare feet was silent on the marble floors. Somewhere during the night, I had kicked off my heels.

The estate felt different in daylight. It was empty and cold.

The guard stopped outside Tyron's study. He raised his hand to knock, but paused when voices drifted through the heavy oak door.

"-sure she believed it?" Tyron's voice.

"Completely," Hixia replied, sounding pleased with herself. "Did you see her face when the video played? She was destroyed."

I froze. The guard had walked a few steps away, checking his phone. He wasn't paying attention.

I moved closer to the door.

My hand moved to the secondary phone in my pocket they didn't know about. I pulled it out carefully, keeping it hidden in the folds of my dress. I pressed the red button twice.

The screen lit up faintly. It was recording.

I held it near the crack in the door.

"Your tech team did an excellent job with the audio splicing," Hixia continued.

"Even I almost believed it was real. Those recordings of her talking about 'doing whatever it takes.' It was genius to pull those from her client presentations."

"The timestamps were the key," Tyron said. "She really was at the Rosewood that night. She really did meet with Alberto for coffee. We just... recontextualized it."

"Recontextualized," Hixia laughed. "I love how you make it sound so professional. You framed your wife for adultery, Tyron. Just admit it."

"She gave me no choice," Tyron's voice turned cold. "Five years, Hixia. Five years and no heir. The family was starting to question my judgment. Question my virility. I needed a way out that made me look like the victim."

"And now you have it," Hixia said softly. "By this time next month, the divorce will be finalized. The infidelity clause means she gets nothing. And I'll be the devoted girlfriend who helped you through your darkest hour."

"Not girlfriend," Tyron corrected. "I want you to be my wife. As soon as the divorce is final."

"And I'll give you what she couldn't," Hixia purred. "A son. An heir. Everything you deserve."

"Does she suspect anything?" Tyron asked.

"How could she?" Hixia laughed. "I'm her best friend. I've been by her side for eight years. She trusts me completely. Even now, she probably thinks I'm trying to help her."

"You played your part perfectly last night," Tyron said. "The tears. The reluctant confession. Everyone believed you."

"Well, I had eight years of practice studying her," Hixia said. "I know exactly how she thinks. How she reacts. She's so predictable, Tyron. So... breakable."

"What about Alberto?" Tyron asked. "Does he suspect he was used?"

"He has no idea," Hixia said. "He thinks someone leaked genuine footage. I heard he's furious, actually. Something about you trying to make him look like a homewrecker to damage his reputation with the other families."

"Perfect," Tyron said with satisfaction. "Let him be furious. Let him think I'm playing games. It keeps him distracted while we consolidate our territory."

My hands were shaking. My vision blurred with rage and grief.

Everything. Every moment of last night. It was all a lie.

It was all a carefully orchestrated performance designed to destroy me.

The guard's footsteps approached. I quickly pressed the red button twice to stop the recording and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

But I had it.

I had proof that the footage was fake and that they had conspired to destroy me. I quickly wiped my eyes and stepped back from the door just as he turned around.

"Ready?" he asked, raising his hand to knock.

"Yes," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

He knocked twice. The conversation inside stopped abruptly.

"Come in," Tyron called.

The guard opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

Tyron sat behind his massive mahogany desk, still wearing his tuxedo from last night. His bow tie hung loose around his neck. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, probably from staying up late celebrating his victory with Hixia.

Hixia sat in the leather armchair to the side, wearing one of my silk robes. Her hair was wet. She'd showered in my bathroom.

She looked up when I entered, and her face transformed into perfect concern with those worried eyes and trembling lips.

The mask was flawless.

"Oh, Morry," she said softly, standing up. "I'm so glad Tyron is giving you a chance to explain."

I looked at her. This woman I had trusted with everything.

And now I knew.

I knew it was all fake. The friendship, the concern, the tears.

All of it was a performance.

But they didn't know I knew.

And that was my only advantage.

"Sit," Tyron commanded, pointing to the chair across from him.

I sat, folding my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking, not with fear, but with rage.

"I should kill you," Tyron said conversationally. "That's what my father would have done. That's what the family expects me to do."

"But Tyron is merciful," Hixia interjected, walking over to place her hand on his shoulder. "He wants to give you a chance to redeem yourself."

I watched her touch him. They'd been sleeping together for months, probably. Maybe longer.

"I didn't betray you," I said, keeping my voice small. Broken. Exactly what they expected.

"That footage was edited. If you would just let me explain-"

"Explain what?" Tyron interrupted. He opened a folder on his desk and slid several photographs across to me.

"Explain these?"

I looked down. There were more security footage, especially of me with Alberto at various locations.

"Those were business meetings," I said, letting my voice tremble. "He wanted to discuss a truce. I was trying to help you."

"By keeping secrets?" Tyron asked, his voice cold.

"I was going to tell you," I said. "But the timing was never right."

"The timing was never right," Tyron repeated mockingly. "How convenient."

Hixia crouched beside my chair, taking my hand. Her grip was gentle.

"Morry," she said softly. "I know this is hard. But maybe... maybe it's time to be honest. About your feelings for Alberto. About why you really met with him."

I looked into her eyes. I saw the calculation beneath the sympathy.

She wanted me to confess. To make it easy for them.

"You're right," I whispered, looking down. "I should be honest."

Tyron leaned forward slightly, anticipation flickering across his face.

"I met with Alberto because I was trying to broker peace," I said clearly. "Because I love you, Tyron. Because I wanted to protect you from another territory war. That's the truth."

Hixia's grip on my hand tightened painfully for just a second before she released it.

"But if you don't believe me," I continued, forcing tears into my eyes. "If you want me to leave... I'll go. I have nowhere else to go, but I'll find somewhere. I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"No," Tyron said sharply.

I looked up, surprised, genuinely this time.

"You'll stay," Tyron said. "But not as my wife. Not anymore. You'll stay as... staff. You'll work for the household. Prove your loyalty through service."

"Tyron," Hixia said, her voice carefully measured. "Are you sure that's wise? Maybe it's better if she just leaves-"

"She stays," Tyron said firmly. "I want to watch her grovel. I want her to understand what she's lost."

He looked at me with such cold satisfaction that I almost broke character.

But I held it together.

"How long?" I asked quietly.

"Until I decide you've suffered enough," Tyron said.

"I understand," I said, lowering my head submissively.

Inside, I was calculating. Planning.

They thought I was broken. They thought I believed the footage was real.

But I knew the truth.

And I would use their confidence against them.

"The head housekeeper will give you your assignments," Tyron said dismissively. "Start today."

I stood up with my legs trembling, but not from fear, but from the effort of containing my rage.

"Oh, and Morry?" Tyron called as I reached the door.

I turned back.

"Don't even think about leaving the estate," he said. "I have men at every exit. You try to run, and I'll assume you're going to Alberto. And then I really will kill you."

"I won't run," I said softly. "I have nowhere to go."

I walked out and closed the door behind me.

In the hallway, I leaned against the wall and pressed my hand to my stomach.

"Since you betrayed me," I said to myself, "I'll completely stop loving you."

"And I'll make you pay for every lie."

Mrs. Chen found me in the third-floor bathroom at 11 PM, scrubbing tile grout with a toothbrush.

"Mrs. Poltort," she said gently. "That's enough for tonight. You need to rest."

"I'm not done," I said, my voice mechanical. My hands were bleeding. The chemical burns had split the skin on my knuckles.

"You're done," Mrs. Chen said firmly. She took the toothbrush from my hand. "Come with me."

She led me down the back stairs, past the kitchen, to a door I had never noticed before. She unlocked it and gestured for me to descend.

"The basement?" I asked, confused.

"Your new quarters," Mrs. Chen said quietly. "Mr. Poltort's orders."

The basement was cold and damp. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting sickly yellow light over concrete walls.

In the corner sat a narrow cot with a thin blanket. No bathroom. No windows. Just a bucket in the corner.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Chen whispered before she left, locking the door behind her.

I sat on the cot, staring at the concrete walls. From the lady of the estate to a prisoner in my own basement in less than twenty-four hours.

I reached into the deep pocket of my dress, it was the one place the guards hadn't searched, and pulled out my secondary phone.

It was an old phone I'd kept hidden for years, the one Tyron didn't know about. I'd always told myself it was paranoia. Now I knew it was just my survival instinct.

The battery showed 63%. I pulled out the tiny charger I'd hidden in my bra and plugged it into the outlet near the floor.

Then I lay down, pulling the thin blanket over myself. My whole body ached. The baby was fine, I told myself. The baby had to be fine.

I had just closed my eyes when footsteps echoed above me. The basement ceiling was thin so I could hear everything in the kitchen directly overhead.

"Here's her dinner," Mrs. Chen's voice said. "Though I don't know why you're bothering. A piece of bread and water? She'll starve."

"Mr. Poltort's orders," a guard replied. "She eats what we give her. Nothing more."

"This is cruel," Mrs. Chen said quietly.

"This is mercy," the guard said. "You should have seen what Miss Moose wanted to do to her."

My ears perked up.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Chen asked.

"Miss Moose suggested we put her in the old wine cellar," the guard said. "The one that floods. Said it would be fitting. Mrs. Poltort always complained about being claustrophobic, didn't she? Miss Moose thought a few days in there would 'break her properly.'"

My blood ran cold. Hixia knew about my claustrophobia. I'd told her after a panic attack in an elevator three years ago. She'd held me, comforted me, promised she'd always protect me.

"That's monstrous," Mrs. Chen said.

"Mr. Poltort said no," the guard continued.

"For now. But Miss Moose is persuasive. She's already moved into the master bedroom. Already acting like the lady of the house. Give it a week, maybe two. He'll give her whatever she wants."

"What about the divorce?" another voice asked.

"One month," the first guard said. "Miss Moose already has the papers drawn up. Infidelity clause means Mrs. Poltort gets nothing. Not a penny."

"If she even survives that long," the younger guard laughed.

"I heard Alberto Barella put a price on her head. Half a million to whoever delivers her to him."

My stomach twisted.

"Dead or alive?" Mrs. Chen asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Does it matter?" the guard replied.

Their footsteps faded. The kitchen door closed.

I lay in the darkness, my mind racing.

I have one month until the divorce and maybe just a week until Hixia convince Tyron to put me in the flooded cellar.

And outside these walls, I now had a bounty on my head.

I couldn't wait. I couldn't endure weeks of humiliation.

I needed to act now.

I sat up and pulled out my secondary phone. The recording from this morning was saved securely. I played it back softly.

"Five years and no heir. I needed a way out that made me look like the victim." Tyron's voice echoed.

Hixia's voice soon followed, "You framed your wife for adultery, Tyron. Just admit it."

That's when it clicked.

I had one ally. One person who had as much reason to want revenge on Tyron as I did.

Alberto Barella.