"Divorce me," I repeated, forcing the words out despite the tremor in my voice. "Please... just let me leave. Let me take my brother with me, and we'll disappear. You'll never have to see either of us again."

Damien studied me for a long moment. The ice cubes in his whiskey shifted with a faint clink before he suddenly burst into laughter.

"A divorce?" he mocked, taking slow steps toward me until I could smell the rich whiskey on his breath. "Tell me, Vivian, do you honestly believe you could survive without me? You? The woman who spent years clinging to me after your parents died?"

He reached up and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The gesture should have felt tender.

Instead, it made every inch of my skin recoil.

"You have absolutely nothing," he murmured. "No income of your own. No family except your criminal brother. No profession. You abandoned your entire future because of me. So tell me... where exactly do you think you'll go? And who would possibly want a damaged woman who can't even give them children?"

I closed my eyes tightly, refusing to look at the satisfaction written across his face.

How had everything fallen apart so completely?

There had been a time when none of this existed.

Once upon a time, I hadn't been the one chasing Damien.

He had chased me.

We first met in high school.

Our fathers were business partners, working side by side to build what eventually became the Bennett empire. I was quiet, happiest with books and sketchpads, dreaming about attending art school someday. Damien, meanwhile, was the school's golden child—the charismatic heir everyone admired.

At first, I wasn't interested in him at all.

Back then, my heart already belonged to someone else.

His name was Adrian, a kind and gentle boy whose quiet smile had captured my attention long before Damien ever noticed me.

But Damien refused to accept that.

He pursued me with relentless determination that bordered on obsession. Every morning brought fresh flowers. Every week came another elaborate romantic gesture. He charmed everyone around me—my classmates, my friends, even my parents.

Then my father became seriously ill.

While everyone else slowly drifted away, Damien remained.

He spent long hours sitting beside my father's hospital bed. He comforted my mother. He reassured me again and again that I wouldn't have to face the future alone.

I still remembered the night he proposed.

Rain poured from the sky outside my college dormitory as he knelt on the soaked pavement, refusing to stand despite the storm.

"Marry me, Kat," he pleaded. "I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I'll love you enough to make up for every hurt you've ever suffered."

Eventually...

I believed him.

I gave him my whole heart.

The first five years of our marriage felt almost magical.

He was attentive, affectionate, endlessly passionate. Even his possessiveness seemed comforting back then, something that made me feel protected instead of controlled. Everywhere we went, people admired us. We became the city's perfect couple—the successful businessman and his elegant wife.

Without even noticing it, I let go of my own dreams.

Art disappeared from my life.

Adrian became nothing more than a distant memory.

I devoted myself entirely to becoming Mrs. Damien Bennett.

Then Vanessa returned.

Vanessa.

His childhood friend.

His trusted secretary.

She came back from overseas several months earlier looking for work, and Damien hired her almost immediately.

"She's practically family," he'd told me with an easy smile. "She needs someone to give her a chance."

At first, it seemed harmless.

He stayed later at the office.

Then he started missing dinners.

Soon afterward, I began noticing her perfume lingering on his suits—a heavy floral fragrance so sweet it turned my stomach.

Gradually, he stopped reaching for me.

He stopped looking at me the way he once had.

When I told him I was pregnant, there wasn't even a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

Instead, the first thing he asked was whether the pregnancy would interfere with our appearances during gala season.

Looking back now, I realized our marriage hadn't collapsed overnight.

It had been rotting beneath the surface for a long time.

"Look at me."

Damien's voice pulled me back to the present.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

He was still smiling.

Not with warmth.

With the cold satisfaction of a predator certain his prey had nowhere left to run.

"You don't truly want a divorce," he said calmly. "You're emotional. You're grieving the baby, and you're upset about Ethan. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"For the first time in years, my mind is perfectly clear," I answered quietly.

Then every ounce of pain inside me erupted.

"You murdered our baby!"

"Enough!"

His hands clamped down on my shoulders.

He shook me so violently my head snapped backward.

"You are not divorcing me," he growled, his face only inches from mine. "Do you understand? You're a Bennett now. You belong to me. If you dare file those papers or try to leave me, I'll make sure your precious brother never walks free again. I'll bury him beneath enough criminal charges and lawsuits that he'll spend the rest of his life behind bars."

The air vanished from my lungs.

"You wouldn't go that far," I whispered.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"Go ahead and test me," he hissed. "The judges answer to me. The police answer to me. This city bends when I tell it to. And so do you."

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks.

There was no escape.

No allies.

No way out.

Every direction led back to him.

My voice barely existed when I spoke again.

"Tell me the truth," I whispered. "Do you love me at all anymore? Did you ever?"

His expression softened almost instantly.

It was practiced.

Calculated.

Another carefully chosen mask.

He brushed away a tear with his thumb.

"Of course I love you," he said smoothly.

The lie came effortlessly.

"Everything I've done has been for our future, Vivian. You only need to stop making life so difficult. Be the loving wife I married. Stop questioning me. Stop inventing accusations."

He leaned forward, intending to kiss me.

I turned my face aside.

His lips brushed my jaw instead.

He exhaled in irritation but didn't try again.

Just then, his phone buzzed inside his pocket.

He pulled it out.

I caught a glimpse of the screen.

Vanessa.

He didn't even bother hiding her name anymore.

His eyes met mine briefly before returning to the phone.

"I have to answer this," he said casually. "It's work."

"Work?" I echoed numbly. "At ten at night?"

He smiled faintly.

"Business doesn't stop just because it's late, darling."

He was already walking toward the door as he accepted the call.

The warmth in his voice returned immediately—the same warmth that had disappeared from our marriage months earlier.

"Hey," he said gently into the phone. "Yeah, I'm on my way. No, she's okay. Just another hysterical episode."

He paused before leaving and glanced back at me.

I stood frozen in the center of the room, trembling from head to toe.

"If you behave yourself," he said, every trace of warmth disappearing once more, "if you stop talking about murder and divorce, I'll make a few phone calls. Maybe I'll arrange for Ethan to get released on bail. Understand?"

I couldn't answer.

The words refused to come.

He interpreted my silence however he pleased.

"Good."

He gave a satisfied nod.

"I'll be home late. Don't bother waiting."

A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

From inside the silent house, I listened as his car engine roared to life before fading into the distance.

He was going to her.

The strength drained from my body.

My knees buckled beneath me, and I collapsed onto the hardwood floor.

Burying my face in both hands, I screamed.

The sound echoed through the empty mansion, carrying every ounce of grief, betrayal, and helplessness I had left.

I remained there for what felt like forever.

Nearly an hour passed before the sobbing finally stopped.

There were no tears left to cry.

And crying wasn't going to save Ethan.

Slowly, I crawled toward the end table beside the sofa and reached for my phone.

My hands shook so violently that it took several attempts before I could unlock the screen.

Weeks earlier, when my suspicions about Damien had first begun, I had quietly saved the number of a divorce attorney.

Attorney Foster.

Specialist in family law.

I pressed the call button.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Finally, someone answered.

"Hello. You've reached the answering service for—"

"I need Mr. Foster," I interrupted desperately. "Please. This is an emergency."

After a brief pause, another voice came onto the line, thick with sleep.

"Foster speaking."

"Mr. Foster." I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. "My name is Vivian Bennett. I need to file for divorce immediately. I also want a restraining order, and I want legal protection over every asset that's rightfully mine."

Silence greeted my words.

Then his tone changed completely.

"Mrs... Bennett?" he asked carefully. "You mean Damien Bennett's wife?"

"Yes."

"I understand."

He cleared his throat.

"I'm honored that you thought of me. But I'm afraid I can't represent you."

I felt my stomach drop.

"What?" I breathed. "Why not? Everyone says you're the best divorce attorney in the city."

"That's exactly the problem," he replied quietly. "Being one of the best means I understand precisely what taking your case would cost. Damien Bennett is one of the firm's biggest financial supporters. He's an extremely influential man. No attorney in this city is willing to go against him in court. Taking your case would end a career."

"Please," I begged, tears threatening again. "He's abusing me. He framed my brother for a crime he didn't commit. I have nowhere else to turn."

There was genuine sympathy in his voice when he answered.

"I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Bennett. I wish I could help. If I can offer any advice, it would be to reconcile if that's possible... or leave the state entirely. But if you're asking whether anyone here will fight Damien Bennett through the legal system..."

He hesitated.

"...you're going to have to face that battle alone."

The call disconnected.

The line went silent.

I sat quietly in the fertility clinic’s waiting area, clutching my purse in both hands. During my last appointment, the doctor had avoided giving me a direct answer, speaking only of extensive trauma and internal scarring. This time, I needed certainty. I had to know whether Damien had stolen more than our unborn child—whether he had also taken away my chance of ever becoming a mother again.

“Mrs. Bennett?”

The receptionist gave me a polite but strained smile.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but your payment didn’t go through.” She slid my platinum card back toward me. “Your card has been declined.”

A knot tightened in my stomach.

“That can’t be right. It’s linked to our joint account.”

“I’ve already run it three times,” she said gently. “Perhaps you should contact your husband?”

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone and called Damien.

Voicemail.

I called again.

Voicemail.

A third time.

Nothing.

“I… I’ll reschedule,” I murmured, taking the card back as heat rushed to my face.

As I hurried out, I could feel the eyes of other patients following me. Damien had done it. He had cut off every dollar I could access. He wasn’t merely controlling me anymore—he was making sure I couldn’t survive without him.

Instead of going home, I flagged down a taxi.

“Bennett Tower.”

As the city blurred past, memories surfaced. That building had once belonged to my father. I grew up racing through its hallways, hiding in conference rooms, stealing cookies from the executive lounge while employees pretended not to notice.

When the taxi stopped, I stared at the glass tower.

It looked colder now.

The lobby felt even worse—sleek, expensive, and utterly impersonal.

A young receptionist looked up.

“Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see my husband.”

“And who is your husband?”

“Damien Bennett.”

She typed something before glancing back.

“Do you have an appointment?”

I stared at her.

“Appointment? I’m his wife.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. Bennett is in an important meeting and instructed us not to allow interruptions.”

“I don’t need permission to see my own husband.”

I headed for the elevators, but two security guards stepped into my path.

“Ma’am, please don’t create a disturbance.”

I looked at their unfamiliar faces. They were recent hires. Neither recognized me. Neither knew this building had belonged to my family long before Damien ever became CEO.

I forced a smile.

“Fine. I’ll wait outside.”

I walked out through the revolving doors, waited until they looked away, then circled toward the loading dock. Hidden beside it was an unmarked service entrance that most employees didn’t even know existed.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my father’s master access card.

I had kept it all these years for sentimental reasons.

The scanner flashed green.

The lock clicked open.

Inside, the hallway was silent. I moved toward a private elevator tucked behind the service corridor, one installed decades ago for my father so he could reach the executive floor unseen.

Apparently, Damien never knew it still worked.

Forty floors passed in silence.

When the doors opened, I stepped into the private hallway leading to the CEO’s suite.

The office door stood slightly ajar.

Then I heard it.

A woman’s breathless moan drifted into the corridor.

“Damien…”

Every muscle in my body froze.

“Right there… don’t stop…”

My pulse thundered as I moved closer, each step muffled by the carpet.

Through the narrow opening, I saw everything.

Vanessa was bent over my father’s old mahogany desk, skirt pushed to her waist. Damien stood behind her, completely consumed by her in a way he had never once been with me.

“Leave her already,” Vanessa gasped. “She’s useless now. You have me.”

Damien gripped her hips.

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “You already got rid of the baby. That problem is gone. Why can’t you divorce her?”

I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop the cry rising in my throat.

He didn’t deny it.

Not once.

“She’s still valuable to the board,” Damien said. “The older shareholders still see her as the rightful heir to her family’s legacy. Her name keeps investor confidence. If I divorce her now, stock prices crash. My father would never forgive me.”

Vanessa pouted.

“So we wait?”

Damien kissed her neck.

“Not much longer. Everyone already thinks she’s unstable—grieving, emotional. Accidents happen to fragile people every day.”

My blood turned cold.

“Soon enough,” he murmured, “she’ll disappear too.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

I couldn’t watch another second.

I backed away, legs shaking so badly I thought I’d collapse. Somehow, I made it out of the building unnoticed.

The second I reached the alley, I doubled over and vomited.

Again.

And again.

My body rejected the truth before my mind could process it.

Eventually, I drove home.

I went straight to the master bedroom and yanked open my jewelry case.

The diamond necklace from our first anniversary.

The sapphire earrings from my birthday.

The emerald bracelet from our fifth year.

One by one, I threw them into a bag.

Then my gaze landed on my wedding ring.

Without hesitation, I pulled it off and dropped it in.

The ring hit the bag with a hollow sound.

I drove to a pawn shop across town where no one knew the name Vivian Bennett.

An hour later, I walked out with a thick envelope of cash.

One hundred thousand dollars.

Enough to disappear.

Not enough to save Ethan.

I gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead.

Who could I turn to?

I thought of my father’s old friends, but every option collapsed immediately. Mr. Johnson still sat on Bennett Corporation’s board. Anything I said would reach Damien before sunset. Mrs. Lutherford lived for gossip; my misery would become entertainment.

Every path led to the same conclusion.

I was alone.

The envelope felt heavy on my lap as I scrolled through my contacts, desperate for one trustworthy name.

Then my thumb stopped.

Adrian.

I hadn’t deleted his number.

A mutual friend once mentioned he had gone to law school after we broke up. Now he was one of the city’s fiercest criminal defense attorneys—the kind who took cases everyone else feared.

My thumb hovered over his name.

Guilt crushed my chest.

I had broken his heart.

When life forced me to choose, I chose Damien—his power, his wealth, the future he promised—instead of the quiet, unwavering love Adrian offered so freely.

But I had no choices left.

I tapped call.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

On the third ring, someone answered.

“Hello?”

His voice startled me. It was deeper now, roughened by time.

“Adrian?” I whispered.

Tears blurred my vision.

Silence filled the line.

Then—

“Vivian?”

There was no warmth in his voice, only caution.

“It’s me,” I said shakily. “I know I don’t deserve to call after everything I did. I know I hurt you. But I’m in serious trouble, Adrian. Worse than you can imagine.”

“I heard about the accident,” he said quietly. “I was sorry.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” I said immediately. “Damien caused it. He framed Ethan for a crime he didn’t commit, and he’s going to kill me if I stay.”

I heard him exhale slowly.

“Please,” I whispered. “If even a small part of the man who once loved me still exists… help me.”

“Vivian…”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I sobbed. “I’ll pay every legal fee. I have cash. I’ll sign anything.”

My voice broke.

“Please.”

I closed my eyes and forced the words out.

“Help me bring Damien down.”

For the next two days, I became exactly the wife Damien wanted me to be.

I woke before sunrise every morning so his espresso would be waiting the moment he walked into the kitchen. I pressed every one of his dress shirts until they were perfectly crisp, smoothing each crease with painstaking care. Whenever he returned home long after dark, carrying the unmistakable scent of Vanessa's perfume, I welcomed him with a pleasant smile and asked how his day had gone, pretending I didn't already know he had spent it with another woman.

On the second morning, we sat across from each other at the breakfast table in complete silence. Damien barely acknowledged my presence as he scrolled through emails on his tablet.

"Vivian," he said without lifting his eyes from the screen, "I need you to buy a gift for our Japanese investors today. Something traditional. A quality tea set should do. Make sure it's wrapped nicely. Use your own money for now, and I'll reimburse you later."

I forced my lips into a gentle smile.

"Of course. Is there anything else you need?"

"There is." He took another sip of coffee before speaking again. "Stop by the florist and order two dozen white lilies. Have them delivered to my office."

White lilies.

They had once been my favorite flowers. Back then, I thought he chose them because he remembered what I loved. Eventually, I learned the truth. They were simply inexpensive flowers that looked elegant enough to impress people.

"All right," I replied softly.

I spent the afternoon carrying out every instruction he had given me. I purchased an expensive porcelain tea set, arranged for elegant wrapping, ordered the lilies, and even handwrote a thoughtful card for the investors. My handwriting remained neat and steady despite the anger simmering beneath my calm exterior.

When I arrived at Bennett Tower with everything he had requested, the receptionist stopped me before I reached the elevators.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bennett," she said politely. "Mr. Bennett is still in a meeting. I can deliver those for you."

I handed her the gift box along with the flowers.

As I turned to leave, the elevator doors opened behind me.

A delivery man stepped out carrying an enormous bouquet of deep red roses.

"Delivery for Ms. Vanessa," he announced cheerfully.

My feet stopped moving.

The roses were breathtaking. Rich crimson blooms filled the arrangement, wrapped in luxurious paper and tied with satin ribbon.

Damien had asked me to buy ordinary lilies for business associates while he sent extravagant roses to his mistress.

Without saying another word, I walked out of the building.

That evening, I stood in the kitchen preparing dinner.

The knife rose and fell in a steady rhythm as I chopped vegetables.

Each strike against the cutting board echoed through the room.

For one dangerous moment, I imagined the blade wasn't slicing carrots.

I imagined it cutting through Damien's throat.

The fantasy vanished the instant I heard the front door open.

"Vivian!" Damien called from the foyer. "We're home."

We're?

Confused, I dried my hands on a kitchen towel and walked toward the entrance.

The sight waiting for me made my blood run cold.

Damien was carrying Vanessa in his arms as though she were a bride cCarterng the threshold of her new home.

One arm circled beneath her knees while the other supported her back. A small bandage wrapped around one ankle, and she clung to his neck with exaggerated helplessness.

I looked from one to the other.

"What exactly is going on?"

"Vanessa injured her ankle during today's site inspection," Damien explained. Although he sounded slightly out of breath, it clearly wasn't from carrying her. His expression challenged me to object. "She can't put any weight on it, so she'll be staying here for a few days until she's recovered."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Here?" I repeated. "You expect her to stay in our house?"

"Yes."

His answer came instantly.

"It happened because I pushed her too hard at work. The least I can do is make sure she's comfortable while she heals."

I shifted my attention to Vanessa.

"Doesn't she have an apartment? Friends? Family? Anyone else who could help her?"

Vanessa lowered her head against Damien's shoulder, looking every bit the helpless victim.

"I'm really sorry, Vivian," she said softly. "I never wanted to impose on you. My apartment doesn't have an elevator. I'd have to climb four flights of stairs."

Damien didn't even let me respond.

"She's staying here," he said firmly as he carried her toward the guest room. "And she's hungry, so make enough dinner for all three of us."

I remained where I was, listening to their footsteps disappear upstairs.

The sheer nerve of the man left me speechless.

He had brought his mistress into our home under the excuse of a minor injury and expected me to play hostess.

I let out a slow breath.

"Fine," I murmured to myself. "Keep playing your game."

Returning to the kitchen, I added another serving of pasta to the pot and stirred the simmering sauce. The thought of poisoning it crossed my mind more than once, but revenge wasn't worth losing my freedom.

When everything was ready, I carried the dishes into the dining room and set the table.

Damien came downstairs alone.

"Vanessa's resting," he explained as he settled into his usual chair. "She feels guilty about causing trouble."

"I'm sure she does," I replied evenly while pouring wine into his glass.

He watched me for a moment.

"I realize this arrangement isn't exactly normal," he admitted. "But we're under a lot of pressure with the merger. Having Vanessa here will make work much more convenient."

I sat across from him.

"Convenient for whom?"

He ignored the question entirely.

"Speaking of the merger, I need your signature on a few documents."

He opened his briefcase and slid a thick folder across the table.

I didn't touch it.

"What am I signing?"

"Some asset transfers."

His tone was so casual it might have been a grocery list.

"It's time to move your father's trust and the Carter holdings under Bennett Corporation. Consolidating everything will make the merger much stronger."

My grip tightened around my fork.

"My father left those assets for Ethan," I reminded him quietly. "They're supposed to become his when he turns twenty-five."

Damien calmly cut into his steak before answering.

"Ethan's sitting in jail now. As far as the law is concerned, he's a convicted criminal. Someone like that can't be trusted to manage an inheritance."

He lifted his wineglass.

"And besides, who else is there to protect those assets? I'm the only family you have left who isn't behind bars."

The realization settled over me like ice.

He hadn't framed Ethan simply to punish me.

He had done it to steal everything my father intended to leave behind.

I looked down at the paperwork.

"If I sign these," I asked carefully, "will you help my brother? Will you make those charges disappear?"

Damien studied me for several seconds before answering.

"If you cooperate," he said at last, "I'll make a few phone calls. I can't promise the charges will vanish, but perhaps I can convince the prosecutor to reduce them. Maybe probation instead of prison."

Every instinct told me he was lying.

Still, I couldn't let him know that.

I lowered my eyes.

"All right," I said quietly. "I'll sign them... for Ethan."

A satisfied smile spread across his face.

"That's my girl."

He took another bite of dinner before speaking again.

"While you're at it, Vanessa mentioned she'd love some of your soup. Could you take a tray upstairs for her?"

I looked from the folder to his smug expression.

Then I smiled.

"Of course. I'll bring it to her first. After that, I'll sign everything."

I prepared a tray with soup, bread, and tea before climbing the stairs.

My legs felt strangely heavy with every step.

When I reached the guest room, I knocked gently.

"Come in," Vanessa called.

I opened the door.

She was propped comfortably against a pile of pillows.

My pillows.

She had also changed into one of Damien's oversized T-shirts.

The sight made my stomach twist.

I placed the tray on the bedside table.

"Your dinner."

She looked up with what seemed like genuine sympathy.

"Thank you, Vivian. You're being so kind. I honestly feel terrible about all this."

I met her eyes.

"You don't need to apologize to me," I replied calmly. "Just finish your meal, recover quickly, and leave my house the moment you're able to walk."

Without waiting for an answer, I turned around and walked out.

Back inside the master bedroom, I sat at the writing desk and opened the folder.

Every page revealed another piece of Damien's plan.

Transfer of Property.

Power of Attorney.

Trust Liquidation.

He wasn't satisfied with taking my child, my marriage, or my brother.

He intended to take my family's entire legacy as well.

I picked up the pen and held it over the signature line.

Just before the tip touched the paper, my phone vibrated across the desk.

A text message flashed onto the screen.

Unknown Number.

Everything is prepared. The documents are ready, and the account has been opened. Meet me at the old warehouse by the docks in three days. Midnight. Come alone. —L

I stared at the message until a small spark of hope flickered inside me for the first time in weeks.

"Three days," I whispered to myself.

"I only have to survive three more days."