Claire’s voice was filled with disbelief as she questioned, “Attorney Jacobs, you, you two...”

Dylan, who had somehow appeared behind me, interjected softly, “Amira, there’s no need for all this—pretending to divorce me, bringing someone in to spite me. That case is in the past. You only lost your job as a lawyer; it’s not such a big deal. Why can’t you be as magnanimous as Claire? Why can’t you move on?”

Landon was about to respond, but I raised my hand to stop him.

“Alright,” I said, my tone was steady. “I’ll be magnanimous, and I'll move on. But you need to issue a public statement admitting that you stole my materials, causing me to lose the migrant worker case. Acknowledge that your actions led to the plaintiff’s suicide, shattering his family. If you do that, I’ll let it go and move on.”

Their faces turned pale instantly.

Several months ago, under intense public scrutiny, I had taken on a shocking miscarriage of justice. Driven by my sense of duty and responsibility as a lawyer, I knew the case would be almost impossible to win. Everyone understood that the migrant worker was innocent, yet he was wrongfully burdened with millions in compensation and decades of imprisonment.

The case became the most talked-about trial in Houston in a decade. The reason was simple—the plaintiff’s attorney was the undefeated legend of the legal world, Claire Kinsley, while I, the rookie hailed as a rising star, represented the defendant.

It was Claire’s 100th case, and she was supremely confident, declaring she would crush me beyond recognition.

At the time, I had just married Dylan. Balancing work and family, I spent sleepless nights poring over legal texts, losing clumps of hair in the process. But my efforts bore fruit when I discovered a key piece of exonerating evidence.

Ecstatic, I informed the victim’s family and worked tirelessly with them to persuade a witness to testify. Everything was moving in a promising direction.

Unable to contain my excitement, I shared the good news with Dylan. He paused, his hand frozen over the financial reports he was reading, and looked up at me. His eyes betrayed no hint of joy.

“Amira, stop digging into this case. It’s exhausting,” he spat coldly.

I missed the hidden meaning behind his words and took his hand, my tone full of newlywed tenderness. “Honey, this is the most important case of my career. No matter how hard or tiring it is, I have to clear my client’s name. The trial is tomorrow—you have to wish me success!”

Without hesitation, he stood up and brushed off my hand, then he left without a word.

The next morning, I realized something was wrong—my key evidence had disappeared, and even the backup files were deleted.

Panicked and drenched in cold sweat, I couldn’t fathom who could crack my password. Reporting it to the police was out of the question given the time constraints. Left with no choice, I headed to court, my nerves on edge.

What broke me completely was when the witness recanted on the stand.

At that moment, my mind went blank.

The judge upheld the original verdict. I couldn’t recall how I walked out of the courtroom under Claire’s mocking gaze or how I faced the barrage of reporters. All I remembered was the victim’s wife and daughter collapsing to their knees before me, wailing and questioning how this could happen.

Overwhelmed, I fled the scene and, by chance, stumbled upon Dylan and Claire.

The woman’s fingers toyed with the man’s tie, the intimacy between them unmistakable. Claire’s voice was soft and sultry as she whispered near his ear, “Dylan, thank you for destroying the evidence and giving me the witness information. I couldn’t have won this case without you. I’ll be sure to reward you properly.”

Dylan patted her head affectionately, his tone gentle. “Her wins and losses mean nothing compared to your perfect record.”

Watching the two of them bask in their sickening display of affection, I felt a wave of nausea rising.

As far as I knew, Claire was a decade older than us, a divorcee with a child from her previous marriage.

The noise of my presence startled them, and they turned in unison, their eyes locking onto my pale, stricken face in the distance.

“Amira...” Dylan tried to step forward and explain, but Claire held him back. She made a thumbs-down gesture in my direction, her eyes curving in a mocking smile as she uttered, “Loser.”

Dylan didn’t seem to think he had done anything wrong.

Desperately, I demanded an explanation. However, he waved me off with an indifferent tone, as if the matter didn’t concern him at all. “Claire has been kind to me. To you, this is just a trivial matter, but for her, it’s her perfect record of 100 wins. You should know what’s more important.”

“Trivial?” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “A family’s breadwinner is wrongly imprisoned—is that trivial?”

“Countless workers are losing hope, trembling in fear, but for you it's trivial?” I took a deep breath and continued, “And in your eyes, Claire’s reputation for 100 wins is what matters most?”

Perhaps my disappointment stung him. His face darkened, and he replied impatiently, “What else? Let me make it clear. To me, Claire is far more important than anyone else. She helped my mom escape an abusive, gambling husband and got me out from under my leech of a father. She can do no wrong in my eyes.”

“Amira, stop being a lawyer. One top female attorney is enough. Claire’s career cannot afford a blemish, and I’ll remove any obstacles for her. From now on, just stay home and take care of me. I’ll provide for you.”

With that, he tossed a credit card onto the table and walked away without a backward glance, leaving me on the verge of collapse.

I looked down from the balcony and saw Claire running toward him from afar. She threw herself into his arms like a lover reunited.

Was this really repayment of kindness?

My heart felt hollow, but there was no time to dwell on the pain. The irreversible consequences of the case had already unfolded, and all I could do now was minimize its social impact and do my best to compensate my client.

But before I could devise a plan, I received news that would haunt me forever—my client, overcome with despair, had drowned himself in the lake.

His wife and daughter, unable to bear the grief, had attempted to follow him. The daughter was miraculously saved and was now in surgery.

As soon as I got the news, I rushed to the hospital. Stuck in traffic, I had no choice but to abandon my car and run.

Stumbling and out of breath, I reached an intersection near the hospital when a small figure suddenly darted out, colliding with me and sending me sprawling onto the road.

A car screeched to a halt, stopping just thirty centimeters away from me. The driver rolled down the window and shouted angrily, “Are you blind? If it weren’t for my quick reflexes, you’d be dead!”

I apologized repeatedly, grabbing hold of the little girl who had pushed me. “What are you doing?”

The girl, realizing she couldn’t escape, rolled her eyes and plopped down on the ground, wailing loudly. “Homewrecker! You stole my dad! You’re a bad woman!”

The crowd quickly began pointing fingers at me. The driver spat in my direction. “Breaking up someone’s family? You deserve to be run over.”

Despite the chaos, I kept my composure, my face darkening as I took out my phone. “You will be held accountable for every word you just said.”

Seeing me call the police, the girl wailed even louder and ran into the arms of a woman nearby.

It was Claire.

And standing beside her was none other than Dylan.

—

In the mediation room, the three of them sat across from me.

The little girl continued to provoke me while Claire, far from stopping her, patted her head encouragingly.

“She’s just a child. Why are you taking it so seriously?” Dylan’s voice broke the silence. His casual tone stung, and tears welled up in my eyes.

“Dylan, I was nearly run over!” I clapped back.

“Well, you didn’t die, did you?” Claire shot me a glance of feigned annoyance and continued, “Why make things difficult for a child? I’ll apologize on her behalf, and let’s leave it at that. After all, she’s a minor—you can’t really do anything to us.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Dylan interjected, stopping her.

My throat tightened as I looked at the man before me, a man I suddenly felt I no longer knew.

There was a time when he would carefully tend to even the smallest scratch on me. Now, after I narrowly escaped death, he seemed utterly indifferent, even urging me not to pursue the one responsible.

“Go home, Amira. Don’t make me repeat myself.” His icy tone felt like a dagger, leaving me cold and numb.

“I want an explanation,” I firmly replied.

Dylan raised his head in surprise, then furrowed his brows, as if coming to a realization. “Anna and Claire are just a widow and her child, relying on each other to get by. Anna is young and doesn’t understand things clearly. She sees me as a father figure, and I happen to like kids, so I went along with it. When she’s older, I’ll explain.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound full of self-mockery. “You like kids, but you’ve refused to have one with me, haven’t you?”

I thought back to those early days of marriage. Despite being newlyweds, Dylan was never home at night. Summoning all my courage, I had shyly asked him to stay in for just one evening. He hesitated before nodding in agreement.

That night, just as our passion was at its peak, his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, he got up and left.

Embarrassment, disappointment, and humiliation mingled into a storm of emotions. I sat alone on the bed, crying through the night.

Dylan clearly remembered that night too. He offered a clumsy explanation. “Anna had a high fever that night.”

I walked over to the window, gazing at the endless lights of the city below, a cold smile on my lips. “You mean to tell me that Anna, who has a mother, grandparents, and a family, somehow couldn’t survive without the presence of an unrelated ‘father’?”

“That’s enough!” He strode over and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him in the eye. “I never realized you could be so jealous!”

In his pupils, I saw my own reflection—a face worn down by endless misfortune. And every misfortune had been orchestrated by him and Claire.

Suddenly, it all felt pointless.

I wrenched myself free from his grip and walked away. Just as my hand reached for the doorknob, his voice came from behind me, cold and unyielding. “Don’t be a lawyer anymore. Be a proper housewife. This isn’t a discussion—it’s a decision.”

“And Amira, you’ve already lost your right to be a lawyer.”

“I’ve made sure there’s no way out for you.”