Her voice was sharp and urgent.

As I listened, old memories came rushing back.

Back in high school, money was so tight we lived off discount food.

To help out, I ate a peanut butter sandwich for lunch every single day.

Then Mom went and signed Zoey up for a three-thousand-dollar dance program. Said Zoey was talented and couldn't be held back.

When I got into a top university, Mom barely looked at my acceptance letter.

"What a lucky break. But with your personality, you still won't go far."

But when Zoey got into community college, Mom acted like she'd won the lottery.

She spent all day bragging about how smart Zoey was. Said she was destined for big things. Said the family would depend on her someday.

Later, when Zoey demanded to study abroad, Mom told me to pay for it.

I couldn't say no after that pleading look. I gave in.

Then she threw Zoey this huge party.

Relatives kept praising her for raising a daughter who studied overseas.

Nobody mentioned I was the one paying for it.

When I was three months pregnant, Mom stayed at the Brighton estate for a week.

Those seven days were a nightmare.

One time, Bruce poured me a glass of water, and Mom immediately sneered.

"Look at you. You're pregnant, not disabled. Acting like a princess already? You can't even pour your own water?"

After meals, I cleaned the dishes while she sat nearby eating snacks.

"Wow. Now you know how to work hard? Where was this before?"

Then she'd turn to Bruce and start praising Zoey.

"Zoey cooks for herself in the UK. Such a good girl. Whoever marries her will be lucky."

I spent my whole life getting torn down, thinking maybe I really wasn't enough.

Now I finally got it.

She kept me down so Zoey could shine, clearing the way for Zoey to marry into the Brighton family.

I took a breath, and typed:

[Mom, where did you get this photo?]

"Typing..." stayed on the screen for almost a full minute.

Then finally:

[A friend took it. Stop asking so many questions.]

I kept going.

[Which friend? When was it taken? Where?]

This time, she answered immediately.

[Why are you so focused on that? The point is he cheated! Stop nitpicking!]

She was rattled.

I let out a cold laugh and switched to voice message.

"Mom, I feel like I'm falling apart... What am I supposed to do..."

My voice shook like I was about to cry.

Three seconds later, her voice message popped up.

"My poor daughter! I knew Bruce couldn't be trusted! Rich men are all the same!"

Her voice sounded thick with fake tears. Seriously Oscar-worthy.

I kept playing along. "Then what should I do? Divorce him?"

She answered instantly. "Yes! You have to! The baby's still young. It's not too late!"

I pushed a little further. "But I can't let Bruce go."

Her next message came fast, already irritated. "What's so special about him? There are tons of men out there! Look at Jack next door. He's not bad. Okay, he's in his fifties and divorced three times, but he knows how to treat a woman! Not sure he'd even want you, though... I'll ask him someday."

My grip tightened around my phone.

Jack next door.

I knew exactly who she meant.

A drunk.

A wife-beater.

All three ex-wives ran away after he beat them.

Was that really all she thought I deserved?

Another voice message came through. "It's okay. I'll send Zoey over to stay with you for a few days. You girls can talk. Cheer you up a little."

After a pause, I typed: [Okay.]

She instantly spammed smiley emojis.

"Great! I'll have her come tomorrow!"

I exited the chat and reopened the post.

Sure enough, there was another update.

[Thanks, @LindaKnowsBest! My older daughter totally believed it. She cried her eyes out. I'm sending my younger daughter over to keep her company... and maybe "take care of" my son-in-law while she's there. My sweet girl is gentle and beautiful. I'm sure she'll win him over in no time. Once it works, I'll update everyone!]

People were still dragging her in the comments.

I shut off my phone and lay back down.

Staring at the ceiling, I suddenly smiled.

My husband, Bruce Brighton, wasn't some easy target.

Bruce came straight to the private recovery suite after work.

He dropped his briefcase, washed his hands, then leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Honey, did it hurt today?"

He still remembered the sharp pain from my C-section.

I nodded.

He frowned and immediately called in a nurse, asking if they could increase the pain meds.

"It's already at the max," the nurse said.

So he sat beside me, took my hand, and gently rubbed it.

I looked at him.

Bruce Brighton.

He took over Brighton Corp at twenty-four. Tripled its value in three years.

Cold, decisive, ruthless in business. Impossible to shake at the negotiation table.

Even his own father said Bruce always played his cards terrifyingly close to his chest.

A guy like that?

No way he'd fall for Zoey's cheap tricks.

***

The next afternoon, Zoey showed up at the private recovery suite.

She was wearing the Chanel set I bought before I got pregnant and carrying a bag of bruised apples. Her perfume hit way too hard.

The second she walked in, she gasped. "Kyla, why do you look so exhausted?"

Her hand hovered near my cheek, but her eyes kept sliding to Bruce.

"Women still have to take care of themselves after having a baby. Look at me. I work out an hour every day. My skin's amazing."

She did a slow spin in the middle of the room.

Her arms and legs were stick-thin. No muscle anywhere.

I watched her and almost laughed.

How had I seriously fallen for this act before?

Bruce sat on the couch flipping through reports without even looking up.

When nobody reacted, Zoey froze for a second, then turned toward the crib. "Aw, the baby's so cute! Let me hold her."

She reached out.

Bruce stood first and picked up the baby. "You didn't sanitize. Not clean enough."

Then he carried the baby into the nursery. The door clicked shut behind him.

Zoey's hand stayed hanging in the air while her face turned green.

I almost laughed.

That's my man.

Zoey wandered around the suite, loudly pointing out every little "problem."

When I still didn't react, she finally dropped onto the edge of my bed.

"Kyla, where's your new Dior bag? It looked so good on you last time. Let me borrow it for a few days. And Mom said your mother-in-law gave you a Cartier bracelet? Let me see it. If it's cute, I'll buy one too."

Her eyes kept sweeping across the room.

I used to spoil her rotten.

Anything she wanted, I handed over.

Now I realized I'd been a complete idiot.

I smiled faintly. "The bag's at a cleaning service. The bracelet? Oh, that's locked in the safe. Bruce has the key."

Her face darkened right away.

Just as she opened her mouth again, the nursery door swung open.

Bruce walked out holding the baby, heading over to change her diaper.

Zoey's voice instantly turned sweet. "Oh, Bruce! Why are you doing that?"

She hurried over, reaching for the baby. "Kyla, seriously, that's a woman's job."

Bruce stepped aside. "My daughter isn't your job."

Then he gave me a look and laid out the diaper smoothly.

Zoey's hand froze in the air again.

Right then, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen, and a weird blush spread across her face. "Kyla, one of my friends needs me. I should go."

Bruce had just finished changing the diaper. He set the baby down and wiped his hands with a wet wipe. "I'll drive."

Zoey's eyes lit up. "Thanks!"

She reached to hook her arm through his, but he'd already turned toward the door.

Her hand closed on empty air.

After the door shut, I sat on the couch watching them leave, a chill crawling through me.

The satisfaction from earlier disappeared completely.

Half an hour later, Bruce finally came back.

I sat there with my arms crossed, staring at him.

"Who told you to drive her?"

Bruce stopped in the doorway.

"Wasn't it you?"

I frowned. "When did I ever tell you that?"

He walked over and crouched in front of me. "Remember when you were six months pregnant and Zoey came over for dinner? She insisted I drive her home. I didn't want to, but you said I was making you look bad.

"We had this huge fight, and you made me promise I'd always be nice to Zoey after that."

The more he talked, the more wronged he sounded. "Babe, you lectured me for like half an hour that day. Remember?"

I did.

Zoey had worn my new heels and said she couldn't walk in the rain. I told Bruce to drive her home. He flat-out refused. I thought he looked down on my family, so we fought about it.

In the end, he gave in, and I still complained about his attitude.

Looking back, he'd probably noticed something even then.

I was the blind one.

"I... I..."

I had nothing to say.

Bruce moved closer and rested his head against my knee. "You really haven't noticed... how Zoey acts around me?"

His voice trailed off.

I sighed. "She wants me to divorce you so she can marry you herself."

Bruce's head snapped up. "You know?!"

His eyes lit up instantly. He grabbed my hand. "You finally see it. Do you know how miserable I've been?

"Every time she comes over, that perfume makes me sick. Last time, she spilled coffee on my shirt and kept insisting I take it off so she could wash it.

"I locked myself in the study, and she still kept knocking, saying she brought fruit."

The more he talked, the more worked up he got, like a kid finally complaining after holding it in forever.

Then he suddenly stopped. "Wait... how do you know?"

I handed him my phone.

That post. My mom's messages. The AI-generated photo.

All of it laid out in front of him.

His expression shifted from shock to anger.

"This was... your mom?" His fingers trembled slightly. "She's your mother."

I said quietly, "I always knew she favored Zoey. I just never thought she'd go this far."

Bruce suddenly stood up.

I thought he was about to lose it.

Instead, he pulled me into a tight hug.

"Kyla." His voice was muffled against my shoulder. "You're the one I love. Your sister, or anyone else? They don't stand a chance."

He buried his face against my neck like a puppy that had finally found its way home.

Nobody knew.

The CEO who crushed people in boardrooms was desperate for love.

When he was little, his parents were always busy with work and left him with a nanny.

He never lacked money.

Affection was another story.

In college, he spent one birthday alone, crying by the track field.

I happened to walk past and gave him a piece of candy.

He said it was the first candy he'd ever gotten.

After that, he chased me for three straight years.

Bruce looked at me. "Babe, what do we do?" His voice dropped low.

I ran a hand through his hair and narrowed my eyes. "We play along. Gather evidence. Then deal with it legally."

He looked up right away, eyes practically glowing. "Okay. I'll have cameras installed tomorrow."

Right then, my phone buzzed twice.

The post had updated again:

[Everyone! Good news! My rich son-in-law already fell for my younger daughter! He even drove her home today! I'd say this is basically a done deal!]

I shot Bruce a look.

He immediately threw both hands up, blinking like he was innocent.

I looked back at my phone and scrolled down.

That commenter, [LindaKnowsBest], popped up again:

[Congrats. But honestly? I know a way faster method. Like, guaranteed fast. Wanna hear it?]