Others aimed straight at Rufus.

"Mr. Sanchez is really something, isn't he? He's already consummated with that shameless illegitimate daughter, yet he still has the audacity to force his legitimate fiancée into being the other woman. It's obvious he just can't bear to lose the resources behind her family. Wanting it all—treating the Pruitt heiress and her family like fools. Honestly, the things I could say would dirty my own mouth."

Rebecca was shaking with humiliation, her face drained of all color. She stormed forward and slapped Rufus hard across the face.

"You ungrateful wretch! Get on your knees this instant and apologize to your in-laws. And promise them you'll register your marriage with Fay immediately!"

She took several steps toward me, reaching for my hand. I sidestepped her smoothly.

Her expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before a fawning smile replaced it.

"Fay, dear, you've been terribly wronged. Whatever you want, Rufus will agree to it. I promise you, something like this will never happen again."

Rufus pressed a hand to his reddening cheek. His eyes cut toward me, venomous and full of loathing—as if I were the one who'd ruined his plans.

It never once crossed his mind that the biggest victim today was me.

"Mother, Rachel is the only woman I'll ever love. I won't marry anyone else. Fay Pruitt is nothing but an arrogant bully riding her family's coattails. If I marry her, the entire Sanchez family will be dragged down. The only woman who deserves to be Mrs. Sanchez is Rachel."

He lifted his chin, nostrils flaring. "If Fay knows what's good for her, I'll give her a child out of respect for Mr. Pruitt. But the child will be raised by Rachel, at my side. And if she doesn't know what's good for her?" A cruel smile twisted his lips. "She can wait to be spat on and scorned by everyone in this city. A woman rejected by the Sanchez family—who would touch her?"

I watched this man—this man I'd poured my heart into for years—with cold, detached eyes.

After the elder Mr. Sanchez passed, mediocre Rufus had taken over the family business. In barely six months, he'd alienated their investors and torpedoed their flagship project. Worse, his so-called friends had talked him into acquiring a string of garbage ventures.

Within days, the Sanchez empire imploded.

Debts totaling billions. Investors fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. Even liquidating every asset the Sanchez family had accumulated over generations wouldn't have been enough to fill the hole.

Vultures circled. Some humiliated him for sport—offering him a few thousand dollars to crawl between their legs.

It was me who'd taken pity on him, for the sake of what we'd shared. I supported him. Encouraged him. I even persuaded my father to prop him up.

Back then, Rufus had knelt before my father, weeping, swearing on his life that if he ever betrayed me, he deserved to be struck down by lightning and die a wretched death.

Two short years. That's all it took for him to regain his footing in the business world—and forget every word of that oath.

Now he had the gall to tell me that being his mistress was a privilege.

Every guest in the room stared at Rufus like he'd lost his mind. Not a single person could fathom where a man who'd only survived because of his fiancée found the nerve to provoke her.

The truth was plain: the Sanchez empire, as it stood today, essentially belonged to the Pruitts.

But Rufus was oblivious. My silence only confirmed what he wanted to believe—that I was too heartbroken, too desperate to let him go.

He pulled Rachel closer by the waist, his smugness swelling.

"Fay, kneel down and bow to Rachel. Serve her tea as the lady of the house. Do that, and I'll agree to keep you by my side."

His voice dripped with condescension. "If you serve her well, I might even consider letting you move into the Sanchez estate. I could arrange for you to see the child now and then."

I stared at that self-satisfied face.

And I smiled.

A fool this blind to reality? Rachel could have him. He'd be doing me a favor—absorbing the disaster so I didn't have to.

Beside me, my father couldn't hold back any longer. His fury peaked and broke through as a sharp, incredulous laugh.

"Well. The Sanchez family has certainly found its legs again, talking with that kind of arrogance. It seems the Pruitts simply aren't worthy anymore." His voice turned to steel. "You can keep your Mrs. Sanchez. My daughter doesn't want it."

He leveled a finger at Rachel. "As for you—the Pruitt family does not have a daughter who would steal her own sister's wedding and throw away her family's dignity without a shred of shame. The moment I get home, I'm opening the ancestral hall. Your name will be struck from the registry. You'll sign a severance agreement. From that day forward, whether you live or die has nothing to do with the Pruitt family."

Rachel's eyes rimmed red, tears streaming down her face in a pitiful display.

"Dad, I'm your biological daughter too! Why are you being so cruel to me?"

"All I did was fight to be with the man I love—what's wrong with that? If Rufus doesn't want Fay, that's her problem. Why should everything good in this family be handed to her on a silver platter?"

Father let out a cold laugh. "Fine. I'll honor your effort. Everyone here is my witness—from this moment forward, you are no longer a Pruitt. Good luck out there."

He turned sharply. "Someone go retrieve every last piece of my eldest daughter's dowry!"

"Fifty cases of cash. Fifteen chests of jewelry. Three Porsches. The twenty-percent equity agreement. And the property deeds to five villas at Harbor Bay Gardens. Every. Single. Item. Bring it all back to the Pruitt estate."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Then, one by one, every pair of eyes swiveled toward Rufus—staring at him the way you'd stare at the dumbest man alive.

Rachel shrieked on the spot. "No! That dowry is MINE!"

Mom's palm cracked across her face before the echo died. "You stole Fay's wedding and now you want her dowry too? What fantasy world are you living in? Every last piece was prepared by the Pruitt family for Fay. You? You're nothing. You want a dowry? Go ask Celia for one."

The bodyguards hoisted the chests and turned to leave—but Rufus stepped into their path.

"Hold it." His voice was deceptively calm. "Take one step out that door with those, and by tomorrow morning, half the Pruitt empire will be mine."

He looked at Father. "Father-in-law, when our two families signed the prenuptial agreement, the contract only specified 'the Pruitt daughter.' No name was given. I upheld my end of the bargain—I married a Pruitt daughter, and Rachel hasn't suffered a day of mistreatment. What you're doing right now is a breach of contract."

He produced a prenuptial agreement—signed barely a week ago. The lawyer beside him read the key clause aloud for the entire room.

"Should Party B, Rufus Sanchez, prove unfaithful to the Pruitt daughter, he shall leave the marriage with nothing. Conversely, should the Pruitt family reclaim the dowry, it shall constitute a breach of contract, and Party A shall compensate Party B with twenty percent of company shares."

Dead silence.

"Impossible!" Father's face drained of color. "I would never sign something like that!"

He snatched the contract. The lawyer pointed to a line of fine print at the very bottom of the last page.

Rufus smiled—a slow, satisfied curl of his lips. He lifted his chin, and on the massive screen behind him, footage began to play: Father, in his own hand, signing the document.

"Mr. Pruitt, you're the kind of man who makes the entire business district tremble when he stamps his foot. Surely you wouldn't stoop to playing dumb?" Rufus tilted his head, eyes glinting. "But even if you tried, it wouldn't matter. This contract bears your personal seal. It's legally binding. If you're not afraid of the humiliation of a courtroom battle, by all means—go ahead and move those chests."

Father clutched his chest, wheezing violently, his face mottled with rage. He nearly collapsed on the spot.

Mom's eyes burned scarlet. She wanted to fight for me, to demand justice—but the words died in her throat. There was nothing she could say.

Rachel swayed her hips and nestled into Rufus's arms, her face blooming with triumph.

"Oh, sister," she cooed. "So what if I'm no longer a Pruitt? If you get on your knees right now and apologize to me, maybe—just maybe—I'll be in a generous mood. I might even put in a good word for you with Rufus. Convince him to abstain at the shareholders' meeting. That way, Dad won't lose his chairman's seat. You know those old sharks on the board—they'll eat him alive without blinking."

She flicked her wrist dismissively. "As for your dowry? I'll be keeping that. Bring it all inside."

The Sanchez servants shoved past me without a shred of hesitation, and one by one, the dowry chests began moving back through the doors.

Mom rushed forward to stop them, but the Sanchez servants—emboldened by their master's arrogance—slammed into her, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Rachel arched a brow. "Mrs. Pruitt, this is a private Sanchez family matter. If you insist on throwing yourself into the middle of it, you can only blame yourself when you get hurt."

I helped Mom to her feet and fixed my gaze on the two of them—cold, unblinking.

Rufus's lips curled into a patronizing smirk. "Without that dowry, you can't even afford to buy yourself a husband anymore. But tell you what—for old times' sake, since you used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy, come work as Rachel's servant for three years. If you behave, I might consider giving you a son to secure your future."

When I refused to comply, Rufus grabbed my shoulder and shoved me in front of Rachel, then kicked the back of my knee.

Just as he was about to force me to my knees and make me bow—

The sealed doors of the banquet hall slammed open.

"We've received a report that the Sanchez family illegally seized a substantial amount of the Pruitt family's private assets. Which one of you is Rufus Sanchez?"