What Wilson didn't know was that I was no longer the Shannon Vance who cried over him.

He owed me for that brush with death, for all the love he betrayed, and for the child I couldn't keep. And I intended to make him pay with everything he had.

How?

I'd start with his innocent lover.

…

For the next three days, Wilson didn't come home.

His assistant, Brendon Hart, sent me daily updates on his whereabouts. He was basically only eating, shopping, and watching movies with that woman, Yvette Lawson. They were all lovey-dovey like a couple in the early stages of a romance.

It seemed Wilson was actually smitten. He hadn't cycled through anyone new in days, which, given his history, counted as rare loyalty.

As usual, I worked my shifts on time and performed every surgery meticulously, getting ready for the near future.

In my downtime, I went over the reports Brendon sent. I was so calm, as if Wilson's actions had nothing to do with me.

On a Thursday afternoon, after finishing a grueling five-hour surgery, I returned to my office to rest.

Suddenly, a nurse knocked. "Dr. Vance, there's a Ms. Lawson here to see you."

I paused with a cup in my hand. Realization flashed in my eyes. "Send her in."

Soon, Yvette walked in. She wore a white dress, and her makeup was flawless. She looked innocent and pure, but there was a subtle panic in her eyes.

"Ms. Vance, sorry to bother you." She stood awkwardly at the door, hands clutching her dress.

"Have a seat," I said, gesturing to the chair across from me. "Why did you want to see me?"

After sitting down, Yvette remained quiet for a long moment before speaking cautiously. "Ms. Vance, thank you… for the other day."

"For what?" I sipped my water casually.

"For not exposing me and covering it up."

Her voice trembled. "I was so scared that day. I thought you'd be angry and tell Mr. Gunner…"

I set down my cup and looked at her. "Since I covered for you then, I won't expose you now."

Yvette visibly relaxed, though confusion replaced some of her fear. "Ms. Vance, w-why aren't you angry? Mr. Gunner—"

"Anger changes nothing," I replied with a faint smile. "It's been years. I've been used to this."

She stared at me, tongue-tied, clearly not expecting this reaction.

I studied her anxious expression, then added, "Your surgery went well, and you're recovering well."

Yvette's face was drained of color. She snapped her head up, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "H-How do you know that?"

"Because I performed your gender-affirming surgery myself," I said, matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing unusual.

Yvette froze. Her lips trembled, and she couldn't say a word.

After a long while, she finally came back to her senses, and tears suddenly welled up. "I-I had no choice. I was sick. My doctor said gender-affirming treatment could possibly extend my life, but it would cost a fortune. I was desperate, which is why I…"

She spoke in choked fragments, recounting her situation.

I listened silently.

Yvette wiped her tears and looked at me with a pleading gaze. "Ms. Vance, I know what I did was wrong, but I don't want to die. Please, don't tell Mr. Gunner. Once I get enough money, I'll leave and never bother you again."

I watched her for a moment, then smiled. "You don't have to leave."

She froze. "What?"

"I said I'll keep your secret. That includes this. Wilson is obsessed with you right now. This is your chance."

I looked her in the eye and said word by word, "I'll get you the money, but you have to do one thing for me."

"What do you want me to do?" Yvette asked, wary.

"Reveal that you're transgender when he's riding high," I said with a cold glint in my eyes. "I want him ruined."

Her eyes went wide. She hadn't expected me to ask that.

But for someone like her, reputation was the last thing to worry about.

She hesitated for a long moment while staring at my indifferent expression. Finally, she bit her lip. "Okay. I'll do it."

I nodded, satisfied.

With Yvette as an ally, my plan would progress more quickly.

Wilson could bask in his so-called true love. After all, his good days were numbered.

…

After striking the deal with Yvette, I fully embraced the role of the perfect wife.

When Wilson came home, I'd have his favorite dishes ready.

Once, Yvette brought him her homemade chilled scallops. He praised her in front of me, saying she was gentle and skilled in the kitchen.

I listened without a hint of annoyance and even smiled. "If you like it, I'll learn to cook too."

The next morning, I went to the market and picked up fresh ribeye and plenty of garlic.

Yvette's chilled scallops were briny, but their nature was deeply cooling to the system. The pan-seared ribeye, basted in a rich garlic butter, was deeply warming by nature. It perfectly balanced the chill of the scallops while creating a subtle thermal conflict within the body.

A few days later, Yvette brought Wilson a red wine beef stew, saying it was specially made for him for nourishment.

So I bought some celery and cucumber and went home to make a chilled cucumber-and-celery gazpacho.

Celery helped with digestion, while the cucumber was cooling and hydrating. Together, they perfectly contrasted the warming effect of the red wine beef stew.

When Wilson came home, he drank two bowls of gazpacho, then mentioned Yvette's beef stew. "Yvie's beef stew warms me up more. This one makes me feel cold."

"Lately, you've been staying up late and going out a lot, so I made this gazpacho to help you cool down."

I calmly poured him a third bowl. "Healthy eating isn't just about rich, warming foods. It's about balance."

If Yvette made a creamy potato gratin to thicken his blood and build heat, I'd make an arugula salad to drain his system.

If she made spicy lamb shank, I'd serve sea bass ceviche to lower the heat.

One evening, mid-meal, Wilson set down his cutlery and reached for me. "Shannon, let's have another child."

My body froze instantly. A flicker of subtle pain flashed across my eyes.

I'd had a child once.

I'd been overjoyed, anticipating his arrival. But Wilson's second lover had spiked my milk, causing a miscarriage just to force a divorce.

Wilson was out with her at the time. He only learned of the miscarriage from Brendon.

When he returned, he said, "We can try again later."

After that, he never mentioned it again.

I gently pushed him away and replied calmly, "I've been handling big surgeries lately. I'm too tired to think about that right now."

Rejected, Wilson looked at me with nostalgia. "You know, I like the old you better. As chaotic as you were, at least you were lively. Now, it feels like something's missing."

I looked up at him with a faint smile on my lips. "People change."

He looked at me, hesitating to speak. In the end, he just sighed and said nothing.

He'd forgotten that I became this way because of him.

Some men were never content. After shaping their women into the image they desired, they'd still complain that they were not lively enough.

Wilson never asked about having a child again.

As the days went by, Wilson doted on Yvette more and more.

As expected, like every other woman Wilson had been with, Yvette started taunting me.

She'd send intimate photos of herself and Wilson with a text. "Ms. Vance, Mr. Gunner says I'm the most special woman he's ever met."

She'd call me when Wilson was coming home and say innocently, "Ms. Vance, Mr. Gunner won't be coming back tonight. He wants to watch the stars with me."

And clearly, Wilson was wrapped around her finger.

Each time Yvette provoked me, he'd sign over another property to me, calling it compensation.

I didn't get upset. I just signed the papers quietly.

On my birthday, Yvette didn't let up.

My party was grand, with friends, family, and business partners. Wilson, as my husband, stayed by my side, accepting everyone's wishes.

But halfway through, Yvette called him. I didn't hear what was said, but his expression changed, and he urgently said, "Yvette's in trouble. I have to go."

Ignoring the curious eyes of our guests, he turned and left.

I stood frozen. The smile on my face stiffened as a flicker of loneliness crossed my eyes.

Around me, the guests began to whisper. Their gazes were a mix of pity and gossip.

Olivia wanted to storm out and confront Wilson, but I stopped her. "Forget it."

I took a deep breath and forced a smile to face the guests. "Sorry, everyone. My husband had an urgent matter. Let's continue the celebration."

I raised my glass, keeping up appearances until the last guest left.

Once the room emptied, the fleeting hurt on my expression vanished, replaced by calculation.

Olivia looked at me with concern. "Shannon, why do you let yourself suffer like this?"

"Suffer?"

Smiling, I patted her shoulder. "I'm not suffering. I'm just laying the groundwork before a big move."

She looked at me in confusion, but I didn't explain further.

Wilson returned the next day. His expression carried a mix of apology and mild irritation.

"Shannon, what was with you yesterday? Everyone was gossiping after I left. It made me look terrible. Couldn't you have been more mature and just kept up appearances?"

I didn't get defensive. Instead, I replied softly, "It's my fault. I'll handle it better next time."

His frown relaxed at my words, though for some reason, he felt unsettled.

"Why aren't you angry?" he suddenly asked after staring at me for a while.

I looked at him, puzzled.

"Why aren't you angry? After everything I do, you should be mad." Wilson grabbed my shoulders, his expression darkening slightly.

"I know you didn't mean it, and I know you care about me, so I don't mind," I replied with a smile.

I turned to the kitchen and brought him a thermos. "I made this beef bone broth for you. You've been exhausted lately. Thought you could use some nourishment."

Wilson took it. Seeing me as gentle as ever, he told himself that he had probably just overthought things.

"You're always so thoughtful. I knew you loved me the most."

I smiled faintly, not responding.

What he didn't know was that my care extended far beyond this.

…

Lately, Wilson had been acting off.

He complained of fatigue, low energy, occasional fevers, and coughs. He'd been checked at the hospital, but nothing was wrong.

He chalked it up to stress and became increasingly dependent on my bone broth.

That evening, after finishing his soup, he held me and said, "Shannon, once I help Yvette settle down, I'll be completely focused on us. She's different from the others. She's pure and innocent."