Jane's POV

I thought I'd seen the worst of it—the betrayal, the lies, the sickening confession—but pain has a way of reinventing itself. It wasn’t over.

Kelvin and Daphne weren’t done with me. They had more venom to spill, more pieces of my soul to tear away and they laughed at me like I was nothing but a stupid joke.

Just as I stood there, bleeding, trembling, humiliated beyond belief, Daphne—clad in nothing but the bedsheet I once picked out for our honeymoon—sauntered over to my vanity like it belonged to her.

Like she owned this life that used to be mine. That was mine.

She opened my drawer, the one where I kept my vitamins, my supplements, all the pills the doctors had told me might help me carry my baby to full term, might give us a child one day—something I had prayed for every single night while he slept soundly beside me, hiding secrets beneath that smug, peaceful face.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low, barely audible over the storm thundering inside me. “Put those back, Daphne. They’re expensive. They’re—”

She turned around, holding the small white bottle between her fingers, spinning it like a toy. Her eyes gleamed with wicked pleasure.

“Vitamins?” she sneered, then threw her head back and laughed. “Oh Jane, bless your deluded little heart. These aren’t vitamins. They’re abortion pills.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and poisonous, choking me.

“W-what?” My voice cracked. “That’s not— that’s not funny. Stop lying. Those were prescribed—"

Daphne stepped closer, unscrewed the cap, and let the pills fall. Dozens of tiny white tablets scattered across the marble floor.

“They’re the reason you’ve never had a child, Jane,” she said with a soft, almost mocking pout. “Every time you thought you were pregnant and then suddenly weren’t… Well, now you know. Your dear husband didn’t want your babies, sweetheart. He just wanted your money. So, he replaced your precious supplements with these.”

My knees buckled, and I stumbled against the dresser, clutching the edge for support.

“No. No, that’s not possible. I—he wouldn’t…”

“Oh, but he did.” She smiled like a cat playing with its food. “And judging by how long you’ve been taking them, I doubt you’ll ever carry a child again. Consider your womb retired.”

Something inside me broke.

I screamed and lunged at her, pure rage guiding my body. But Daphne shoved me back, and I crashed hard against the floor.

Pain tore through me like lightning. A warm wetness pooled beneath me, and when I looked down…

Blood. Again. Not again— no, I can't lose this child no! My twelfth miscarriage?

I curled up on the floor as reality hit me. My scream was primal—louder than I’d ever heard my own voice.

My phone buzzed near me, the screen lighting up with notifications. I grabbed it with shaking hands, trying to distract myself from the excruciating pain tearing through my body.

Until I saw the bank alert! Eight hundred million! Gone.

“No, no, no…” I whispered, tapping the screen with trembling fingers. My bloodied palm left smears across the glass.

“The contract fund—where—who did this—?”

Before I could make the call to my account manager, Kelvin’s shadow loomed above me. In one swift motion, he snatched the phone out of my hand.

“Don’t worry about that anymore, Jane,” he said calmly, wiping a nonexistent speck from his shirt. “That money, and every other asset you own? They belong to me now. I’m the CEO of Thorne Tech.”

I blinked up at him in disbelief, the world spinning around me.

“No. No, that’s not possible. I never— I didn’t sign anything—I’ll never give you control of my company! That's the only thing my parents left for me!”

“Oh, but you did,” he said, grinning. “Don’t you remember that night I made you that special dinner? The wine? You were so eager to make love, so desperate to please me, you didn’t even question the papers I slid in front of you. You signed everything away with a kiss.”

My head shook on its own. “You drugged me?”

“Of course I did. What did you think this was? A fairytale?” He leaned closer, his voice sharp. “This was a heist, Jane. You were the prize. And now that we’ve drained you dry, you’re worthless.”

Tears streamed down my face as I sat in a puddle of blood, heartbreak, and loss.

“All these years… four years… were they all fake?” My voice was barely a whisper.

Kelvin smiled coldly. “Everything. From the vows to the sex to those stupid anniversary surprises. You were just the bank. The fool.”

He pulled out a folder and threw it at me.

“Here are your divorce papers and the asset transfer forms. Signed. Sealed. And soon to be delivered.”

I stared down at them, but my vision blurred. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The names, the signatures—they were all there. My entire empire, gone. My legacy, gone. My love, my body, my child—all gone.

“You’re not human,” I whispered. “You’re monsters. Both of you.”

Just then, Kelvin turned to Daphne and kissed her deeply, moaning her name in front of me.

I clutched my stomach and tried to stand, but the pain doubled me over again.

“Security!” Kelvin yelled. “Get this woman out of my house.”

Two guards stormed in and yanked me up by my arms. I screamed, kicked, but I was too weak. Too broken.

As they dragged me down the hallway I once decorated with love, Daphne called out sweetly, “Oh, and Happy anniversary, Jane”

I twisted in their grasp and looked over my shoulder, locking eyes with Kelvin one last time, my voice was hoarse but I meant every word.

“You'll regret this! I swear on everything you stole from me! You'll pay! I'll rise from this and when I do, you'll both burn!”

Jane's POV

The sound of the door slamming open jolted me awake, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and paper.

Robert's voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

“Get up right now!” he barked, his words vibrating through the office, making the walls themselves feel like they were trembling.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to push away the fog of sleep that had clouded my mind.

I was still reeling from the stress of the last few weeks—working late nights, running on barely any sleep. But nothing could prepare me for what was coming.

There he was. Robert Smith, my annoying boss, The first son of the Smith family. A man whose name was synonymous with power, wealth, and fear.

His recent divorce had made headlines everywhere, with his ex-model wife airing their dirty laundry on live TV.

The scandal nearly destroyed his reputation, but it had only made him more unbearable.

He was a walking storm now. Always angry. Always on edge. Nothing pleased him.

His towering frame loomed over me like a shadow, and his cold, gray eyes burned with contempt. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap.

Without warning, he slammed his fist onto the desk with a force that made the papers jump, sending a jolt through my body. The sound was deafening.

“I don’t pay you to sleep, Jane!” His voice was laced with disgust. “You’re here to work, not to laze around like some damn teenager who hasn’t learned a thing about responsibility!”

I jumped to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest, blood rushing to my ears. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry!” I stammered, my voice weak, panic flooding my every word. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean to?” He scoffed, his lip curling into a sneer. He looked me up and down like I was the dirt on the bottom of his expensive shoes.

“What exactly do you think you're here for, Jane? A little nap on company time? You look like you’ve been wearing the same outfit for a week. Didn’t you think about putting yourself together for once?” His eyes flicked over my clothes—simple, a bit wrinkled—and he scoffed again.

“Look at you. You’ve got no sense of style, no sense of class. You might as well have walked out of a thrift store. What a joke.”

The humiliation hit me like a slap to the face.

My chest tightened, and I felt my cheeks burn. I wasn’t even sure if I was more embarrassed by his words or the crushing weight of his gaze. He had a way of making me feel like nothing—like I didn’t even matter.

I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. I couldn’t let him see me cry. Not in front of him.

“Do you think I’m here to babysit you?” Robert continued, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’m wasting my time and my salary on someone who can’t even do the simplest of tasks.”

His words hit me hard, each one digging into the already fragile walls of my self-esteem.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. He didn’t care what I had to say. Robert never cared.

“Where are the documents I asked for?” His voice was colder now, the irritation turning to pure disdain. “The ones for the Blackstone contract? I need them now.”

My heart skipped a beat. I had worked on them overnight, scrambling to get them ready in time, but they weren’t perfect. Not by Robert’s standards.

I fumbled through the papers on my desk, hands shaking as I tried to find the right folder. My fingers were clumsy, but I finally managed to grab it and push it towards him.

“Here, sir. I—I worked on them all night,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, praying it would be enough to satisfy him. My hands were clammy, the papers sticking to my fingers as I handed them over.

Robert didn’t even look at me as he snatched the file from my hands. He flipped through the documents, his eyes scanning each page with a cold, clinical detachment.

I waited, my breath caught in my throat, my nerves twisting like a knot.

He didn’t speak for a long time. But when he did, it was with the kind of venom that could melt steel.

“This is rubbish,” he said, his voice a low growl.

“This is what I get after all your whining and excuses? You’re telling me you’ve spent the whole night working on this? It looks like something a first-year student would hand in. You wasted your time going to university? You’d have been better off learning how to clean gutters instead of wasting years and money on a degree. This is absolute trash.”

He shoved the papers into the trash can with a flick of his wrist, as if they were nothing more than garbage.

“I’ve been paying you, what, for this? For nothing?” He sneered. “It’s pathetic. You’ve wasted my time and my money—again.” He glared at me like I was the one who had ruined his life.

I stood frozen, my heart sinking. The tears I’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally broke free, hot and painful, streaming down my face.

I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t.

“Please, sir,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I... I can fix it. I’ll redo it. Please don’t fire me.”

Robert’s face remained stone-cold, his expression hardening with each word I spoke.

“Fire you? You’ve already fired yourself,” he said, his words like a death sentence. “You’re a waste of space, Jane. I’m done with you. Clean out your desk. You’re fired.”

Jane's POV

The road to landing this job had been nothing short of a nightmare. After my divorce from Kelvin,

The miscarriage had shattered me further. The abortion pills he had pushed me to take had left me infertile.

The doctor confirmed it: my Fallopian tubes were beyond repair. I would never be able to have children naturally again.

I hadn’t known how to process the news. I didn’t know how to mourn the loss of something that hadn’t even had a chance to live.

My desperation led me to apply for every job in sight. But it didn’t matter how many degrees I had or how many languages I spoke.

Every company rejected me, saying I was "too overqualified." and I couldn’t help but feel like I had wasted so much time chasing a future that never came.

Except for Robert Smith. He didn’t care about my qualifications. Instead, he made me feel like nothing.

He stripped away any remaining dignity I had, making me feel stupid and small. Every day, I walked into that office, knowing I was nothing more than an obstacle in his path, a pawn to be used, discarded, and humiliated at his will.

I was still begging, hoping he would at least have a change of heart, even if it meant deducting fifty percent off my salary, I would take it, I didn't just want to be idle.

His phone rang abruptly, cutting through the tension in the room.

He answered it, his tone clipped and sharp, listening to the voice on the other end, no doubt relaying some bit of information that had only fueled his fury.

After a moment, he hung up, his face tight with frustration.

"Unbelievable..." he muttered to himself, turning back to face me. “Are you sure you're not a witch?”

I scrambled for words, my hands shaking. "Please, sir... please don’t fire me. I can do better, I swear! I promise it won’t happen again. I’ve got debts to settle. I’m barely scraping by.” My voice trembled, but I had no choice. This job—this miserable excuse for a job—was my only lifeline.

Robert stood there, looking at me with something between disgust and indifference.

For a moment, I thought he might walk out and leave me stranded, like he always did.

But then, with a long, exasperated sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he were wrestling with some inner demon.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he muttered. “Normally, I wouldn’t, but…” He let out another frustrated hiss. “Fine. I’ll give you one last chance. But this time, you’re not just my assistant.”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean, sir?”

He looked at me like I should have known better.

“We’ve got a dinner party to attend, and you’re coming with me. My original plus-one bailed at the last minute, so now you’re my backup. I paid some actress a ridiculous amount to attend this high-profile event, and now she’s telling me she forgot because she’s ‘on set.’ Ugh. You women are all the same. All you do is take, take, take, without ever giving anything back.”

He shook his head in frustration before heading toward the door.

I grabbed my bag, my heart racing. He wasn’t giving me a choice. I had to follow him. I had to go. There was no other option.

When I caught up to him, I tried to speak, but before I could get a word out, he shot me a glance over his shoulder.

“Keep your distance,” he snapped. “I don’t need you breathing down my neck. Just get in the damn car.”

As we reached the parking lot, I hesitated. “Sir, I... I don’t have anything to wear for the event,” I finally said, feeling the sting of embarrassment wash over me.

Robert’s lips curled into a mocking smile as he turned to look at me. He chuckled darkly.

“I didn’t expect anything better. Your shoes always look like they’ve been eaten by rats, your hair’s as dry as straw, and your breath…” He paused dramatically, as if savoring the cruelty.

“Always unbearable! Please, do us both a favor and shut up. Let me take you to a boutique to help your sad little life before you kill me with that smell coming from your mouth.”