On our fifth wedding anniversary, I found a baby crib in my husband's office.

A young woman was lounging on the sofa nearby, sipping tea.

Chad—my husband's personal assistant—was practically bowing to her, a sycophantic smile glued to his face.

"Please, don't you worry about a thing, Miss. Mr. Cade's instructions were very specific—your comfort and the baby's are his top priority. He's already booked the finest private maternity suite for you at Cedars-Sinai. It's ready whenever you are."

She was the future Mrs. Cade? Then where did that leave me?

I frowned, my eyes falling to the platinum wedding band I’d worn for five years.

A smug, radiant smile spread across the girl's face.

"Clint is even finding the best tattoo artist in LA to cover up his wife's initial with mine. I want the whole world to know I'm the only woman he's ever truly loved. And our son... from the moment he's born, he will have the absolute best of everything. No expense will be spared."

I stared at her barely-there baby bump, then pulled out my phone and called my father.

"Dad, that trust you set up five years ago? It's time to activate it."

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1

The moment I hung up, the girl who called herself the "future Mrs. Cade" rose from the sofa.

She commanded Chad, "My husband is spending the afternoon with me. Make sure no one disturbs our private time." With that, her heels clicked sharply as she strode toward the CEO's office next door.

As she swept past me, my eyes caught the antique brooch on her collar. It was the same one I’d admired at a charity gala two weeks ago, right before a "mysterious buyer" snatched it up for a staggering price.

So, that was it.

The mysterious buyer who’d spent a fortune to win a lady’s smile was none other than my husband, Clint Cade.

My gaze drifted to the glass wall of the CEO's office.

The girl was straddling Clint's lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. Clint, a man renowned for his rigid self-control, was actually smiling, parting his lips to accept a strawberry from her fingertips.

Then their lips met in a deep, searing kiss.

The blood turned to ice in my veins.

"Baby, when are you going to tell that cold-hearted bitch the truth? Our baby can't wait. You're the CEO now; you don't have to play games with her anymore," her voice was a cloying, seductive purr.

Clint placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Patience, baby. Tonight, I'll lay my cards on the table. I'll give you the wedding you deserve, and everything I have will be yours."

His words were shards of ice piercing my heart.

I stared at this man in disbelief. Thirty minutes ago, he was on the phone, telling me he loved me, telling me he missed me. Now, he was promising my life to another woman.

Unfortunately for him, he had made a grave miscalculation.

He seemed to have forgotten that with a single word, I could take away everything he had.

I walked straight into the office.

The moment Clint saw me, panic flashed across his face. He instinctively shoved the girl off his lap.

She lost her balance and sprawled onto the floor.

Clint looked horrified—not for me, but for her. He scrambled to help her up, his face a mask of anxious concern. She buried her face in his chest, biting her lip as tears streamed down her cheeks, the very picture of wounded fragility.

He gently wiped away her tears and helped her settle onto the sofa before finally turning his gaze to me.

His eyes were filled with disgust and contempt.

"Is work all you know, Aveline? You're like an emotionless robot. It's nauseating."

The girl, nestled against him, let out a disdainful little laugh. "Honestly, Clint, what man would want a woman like that? She drove you to this."

Clint glanced at me and offered a clumsy lie, "She's just my assistant. She tripped. Don't make a scene."

I sat on the sofa opposite them, my expression blank, and elegantly crossed my legs.

"I gave up countless opportunities to support your career. I pumped my body full of hormones just to give you a child, wrecking my own health in the process."

Clint's gaze flickered away, refusing to meet mine.

The girl's smile, however, only widened. "Oh, darling, maybe that’s the problem. You were so busy with your career, you've already ruined your body."

I poured myself a glass of water, my composure a fortress. "Clint, your taste has certainly taken a nosedive. How could you fall for this kind of trash? I know some excellent eye doctors, if you need a referral."

Clint’s face darkened with rage. "Her name is Brielle. She's… from a simpler background. Community college. She can be a bit blunt, but she doesn't know any better. Don't stoop to her level."

Brielle shyly tugged on Clint's sleeve. "It's your fault, you spoil me." She suddenly leaned in and gave Clint a long, possessive kiss.

"You should go first," Clint murmured to her.

Brielle pouted, then stood. She stopped in front of me, sneering. "Sweetheart, you're past your prime. Clint told me everything. He says being with you is like sleeping next to a corpse. An absolute bore."

I took a slow sip of water and then rose to my feet.

I grabbed a fistful of Brielle's hair and slammed her perfectly made-up face down onto the glass coffee table.

"He might tolerate your vulgarity, but I won't."

It took Clint a moment to react, but by then, I had already slapped Brielle twice, hard. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I felt the bones grind.

"Let her go! Or I'll leak your unpublished designs to our competitors!"

"You'd destroy my career for your mistress?" My voice trembled with disbelief.

Clint's eyes flinched. "Brielle is not a mistress."

I let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Then what is she? Your one true love?"

Brielle let out a theatrical whimper, and Clint snapped, "Yes! She's the one who makes me feel alive!"

Tears burned my eyes. He had once said those exact words to me.

"And you're not afraid of the consequences?" I asked softly.

Clint tensed. He had once sworn that if he ever betrayed me, he would welcome a gruesome death.

But Brielle just snorted. "What man doesn't say sweet things in bed? Clint already promised me everything, to give our baby and me security. Oh, and he also said you're a workaholic bore even at home." She feigned surprise, covering her mouth. "Oops, Clint, sorry. Did I say too much?"

Clint just stroked her hair dotingly. "You only told the truth. Why would I be angry?"

I let her go. As Clint cradled Brielle, murmuring reassurances, I summoned every last ounce of my strength and slapped him hard across the face.

With that one, stinging slap, the last shard of my foolish love for him shattered.

Clint's expression turned vicious. Before he could retaliate, Brielle shoved me hard. As I stumbled backward, she stuck out her foot and tripped me.

I fell, my head cracking against the sharp corner of a bookshelf. Blood instantly blurred my vision.

Clint hesitated for only a second before hauling me onto the sofa and tossing the first-aid kit in my direction.

"She's just an assistant. Why are you picking fights with her? Can't you have a little class? As long as you behave, no one can take the title of Mrs. Cade from you."

Brielle stood there, her lips trembling as she looked at Clint like a kicked puppy. "Clint, maybe I shouldn't have come… Maybe I should just get rid of this baby."

"Don't be silly, baby." Clint immediately pulled her into his arms.

Watching their tender embrace, a sharp pain twisted in my gut. I grabbed a heavy design award from the table and hurled it at the mahogany desk. Clint instinctively shielded Brielle, a sight that made my eyes sting.

I didn't stop, smashing everything on the desk until I collapsed onto the sofa, drained of all energy.

"Are you finished with your little drama?" Clint's voice was glacial.

I laughed. I raised the trophy again, aiming its sharp base at Brielle. Clint, again, moved to shield her with his body.

I took a deep breath, my voice dropping to the cool, commanding tone of a Prescott. "Take your trash and get out of my sight."

The word "trash" struck a nerve. "This is my office! You destroyed my things, Aveline. You've gone too far!"

Too far? I smirked, raised the trophy, and brought it down hard on his shin. He buckled, dropping to one knee in agony. I aimed the sharp point of the award at his groin.

"I can go much, much further."

A flicker of genuine fear crossed his eyes. "Are you… insane?"

I looked down at him, spat in his face, and then picked up the phone to call security. "Send two men to the CEO's office."

Two guards arrived quickly but walked right past Clint and came toward me. Brielle smiled smugly. "Wrong move, Aveline. My brother, Ryan, is head of security here. They listen to me." She turned to the guards. "Throw this corporate spy out. She broke in trying to steal company secrets."

I looked at Clint. "You're just going to let her do this?"

Clint limped to his feet, gesturing at the wreckage. "The evidence is right here. Aveline, I'll give you one last chance. Apologize to Brielle, promise to never show your face here again, and I'll let this go. And… if you're willing to be a wife in name only, the title of Mrs. Cade is still yours."

My eyes narrowed. "Are you sure about this, Clint?"

Clint laughed. "Aveline, I'm the CEO. Let's be real, your parents are retired. Their influence is gone. With one word, I can ruin your career and make you the laughingstock of the entire city."

I returned his smile. "Clint, you seem to have forgotten who I am."

"What are you planning to do?" Clint watched me warily.

"I'm going to send you right back to the gutter you crawled out of."

Clint was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Aveline, stop dreaming. This company is mine. As for your parents… they’ve already handed everything to me. What can a couple of retirees do?"

I smashed a teacup on the floor. A shard of porcelain grazed Clint's cheek, and a single drop of blood trickled down.

"Are you so sure this is the only company my parents own?"

Clint frowned.

I glanced at Brielle, who had rushed to cling to his arm, and smiled brightly. "When I first met you, your coworkers treated you like dirt. I took pity on you and begged my father to give you a job here."

These were the last words Clint ever wanted to hear. His face flushed a deep, furious red.

"That was then! I'm in charge now!"

Brielle stood on her toes and kissed Clint's bloody cheek, giving me a provocative glare. "Clint loves me now. You're a relic, Aveline. Your time is over."

A relic? I let out a cold laugh and, right in front of Clint, dialed my father's chief consultant.

"Ronan, get to my office. Now."

The words had barely left my mouth when the door swung open. Ronan Hayes strode in, flanked by several men in dark suits. He walked directly to me and bowed his head slightly.

"Miss Prescott. I've brought the documents you requested."

I took the folder he handed me and slapped it across Clint's face.

"Get out. Now."