“What exactly is going on here?!”

Sebastian’s voice sliced through the conference room, harsh and sudden, breaking the silence like glass shattering. He strode in without waiting for permission, Candela right behind him. She clung to his arm as if she were frightened, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, shoulders trembling like she’d been wronged.

I remained seated, unmoved.

“I’m talking to you,” he continued, slamming his palm onto the polished mahogany table. The sound echoed across the room. “Why was Candela dismissed? And why am I suddenly excluded from every meeting?”

I stood slowly, straightening my back, folding my hands calmly in front of me.

“I terminated her employment,” I replied evenly, “because she’s inefficient, unnecessary, and only joined this company because you pressured me to hire her. As for the meetings…” I tilted my head slightly. “I’ve decided I don’t want to hand over everything to you anymore.”

Sebastian froze for a brief second, surprise flashing across his face before anger quickly replaced it.

“So you’re making decisions like this without even consulting me?” he demanded.

“I don’t need to consult you,” I answered calmly. “This company belongs to me. I make the decisions.”

His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching visibly. “That doesn’t give you the right to—”

“You’ve already handled more than enough,” I cut in, stepping forward. “And you haven’t handled it well.”

Candela sniffled softly behind him. “Ma’am… if I made a mistake, please give me a chance to explain—”

“Don’t speak,” I snapped sharply.

She flinched, lips quivering.

Sebastian moved closer, his presence suddenly intimidating. “Isabella, you’re acting unreasonable. You can’t just fire someone because you’re upset.”

“Upset?” A cold laugh escaped me. “You think this is about emotions? After everything that’s happened?”

His expression darkened. “This is ridiculous. I’m your husband.”

My tone hardened. “What’s ridiculous is that you still believe being my husband means you get to control me.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes — unease. Because he realized I wasn’t backing down.

“You are not firing her,” he barked. “I won’t allow it!”

“I already did,” I replied coolly. “It’s effective immediately.”

His hand slammed against the wall beside my head, close enough that I felt the air shift.

“You’re testing my patience, Isabella,” he warned.

I held his gaze steadily. “Maybe I am.”

His breath faltered slightly. He saw it then — the change in me. Something he couldn’t manipulate anymore.

After a moment, he stepped back, forcing his expression to soften.

“Alright,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “If that’s what you want… we’ll go with your decision. For now.”

Candela lowered her head, wiping at imaginary tears. “Ma’am… I’ll pack my things. Thank you for the opportunity. I’m sorry if I did anything that upset you.”

I didn’t respond.

Sebastian gently placed his hand on my shoulder, his voice suddenly calm, almost coaxing. “Let’s not argue anymore. We’ll talk about this later, okay? For now… I accept your choice.”

But the way he agreed so quickly unsettled me more than his anger had.

An hour later, I stepped out of my office — only to stop when I heard voices coming from around the corner.

I moved quietly, staying out of sight.

Candela’s voice was sharp, no longer trembling. “So that’s it? I lost my job and you just let her have her way? Why didn’t you fight harder?”

Sebastian exhaled heavily. “Relax. I can’t push too hard when I still don’t have full control of the company. I need to stay on her good side. We’ll just go along with whatever she wants until everything is secured. You understand that.”

Candela sounded frustrated. “And how long do we keep pretending?”

“As long as it takes,” he replied, his tone turning cold and calculating. “She thinks firing you gives her control, so let her believe that. We’ll follow her lead for now.”

There was a brief pause.

“Because on her birthday,” he continued quietly, venom lacing his words, “we finish this. No more fake investors. No more acting. That night, her life ends… and everything she owns becomes ours.”

Candela sucked in a quiet breath. “Are you serious?”

“Especially now that you’re carrying our child,” Sebastian answered without hesitation. “I won’t let her threaten you… or the baby.”

My lungs locked. For a moment, it felt like I had stepped outside my own body, watching everything collapse from a distance, piece by piece.

He wasn’t just deceiving me.

He wasn’t only having an affair.

He was planning my death — on my birthday.

I stepped back silently, forcing down the scream rising in my throat. My hands trembled so badly I pressed them against my chest, trying to steady my breathing.

Not now.

Not here.

I need to survive. I need to pretend. I need to beat them at their own game.

That evening, when I returned to my suite, Sebastian was already there, seated on the couch. His expression softened the moment he saw me, almost warm, almost loving.

I nearly laughed at the performance.

“There you are,” he said, releasing a breath like he’d been waiting anxiously. He rose to his feet. “We should talk.”

I stayed where I was. “About what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking hesitant. “About Candela… since you let her go, I was thinking.”

I braced myself.

Then he smiled — gentle, patient, supportive. The same smile that once made me fall for him.

The same smile he wore every time he lied to me.

“…we could hire her as a housemaid,” he suggested.

My heart stuttered.

“As… what?” I asked quietly.

“She needs a source of income,” he explained casually, like this was a harmless idea. “And since you don’t trust her as much anymore, at least if she works here, you’ll know what she’s doing. I can still help her too. It works out for everyone. You know she’s alone… no family to rely on. I can’t just leave her with nothing.”

Works out for everyone.

For him and his mistress.

“No,” I said immediately, my voice sharp. “I already dismissed her. She’s not coming back here.”

His expression faltered slightly. “Isabella—”

“I said no.” I turned away before my anger slipped into something more revealing. “I’m exhausted, Sebastian. I don’t want to discuss this.”

“Don’t be like that,” he called gently, following me toward the bedroom. “You don’t have to react so strongly—”

“Goodnight,” I cut him off, closing the door before my composure cracked… before he noticed how much I already knew.

I leaned back against the door, breathing unevenly.

They planned to kill me on my birthday… and now he wanted his lover inside my home.

Not happening.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, pulling me slowly from sleep. But before I even opened my eyes, something felt off.

Someone else was in the room.

I sat up abruptly — and froze.

Candela was kneeling beside my dresser, wiping its surface with a cloth, humming softly as though she belonged there. She wore a plain apron, her hair tied neatly back.

She looked up, offering a timid smile. “Good morning, Ma’am.”

My stomach dropped. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” She quickly stood, lowering her head respectfully. “Sir Sebastian told me you changed your mind… that you agreed to let me stay as the maid.”

Ice spread through my veins. “That’s not true. I never agreed to anything.”

She twisted her hands together, eyes glistening with what looked like tears. “Ma’am, please… I really need this job. I can handle everything. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, ironing… even sewing. I don’t mind sleeping in the storage room if necessary. I just need somewhere to stay.”

I clenched my jaw. Every trembling word felt rehearsed.

“Leave,” I said coldly. “Before I lose my patience.”

She flinched. “Please… just give me one chance. I’ll prove myself.”

Before I could respond, she hurried forward, grabbing a spray bottle and cloth. “See? I’m very thorough. Look how clean I can make everything.”

She wiped the table too forcefully, movements rushed and desperate. Then she turned toward the shelf where my mother’s porcelain urn rested — a delicate piece, white with gold accents, the most precious thing I owned.

My chest tightened. “Don’t touch that—”

“I’ll clean everything properly,” she insisted, dusting around it. “I’m careful, Ma’am. I promise—”

Her elbow knocked against it.

The urn wobbled.

Time seemed to slow.

“Candela, stop—!”

Too late.

The urn tipped.

It fell.

Porcelain shattered against the marble floor.

Pieces scattered in every direction.

And my mother’s ashes… spread across the floor like drifting gray snow.