“Are you really leaving?” my friend asked anxiously as I stepped out of the president’s office.

“You’ve been married for seven years, and your wedding ceremony is only three months away. You slipped a divorce agreement and resignation letter into the stack of documents for him to sign. Aren’t you afraid… he won’t let you go?”

My steps faltered. My eyes landed on the crutches by my side.

Would he be reluctant to let me go?

I shook my head bitterly.

For seven years, I stood behind him in the shadows, helping him rise to become the powerful Nathan Blake. I worked through nights, closed deals, brought in clients—yet he handed all my hard-earned achievements to Madeline Klein, the university student he sponsored.

“She just graduated,” he told me once. “She needs a strong start in the company. You don’t need these things—you have me.”

I was foolish enough to believe he was simply helping a promising student.

Until the day I saw the dagger that killed my father—at an auction.

Each time I raised my bid, Nathan raised his higher. I burned through my entire inheritance, but still lost.

And then I watched as he handed that evidence—my only hope to clear my father's name—to Madeline.

“She just closed a hundred-million deal,” he said. “This is all she asked for.”

I stared at him, my lower lip bloodied from biting down too hard.

“That deal was mine,” I whispered. “And you know that dagger can overturn my father’s case. He was only accused of murder because he saved you!”

“Eva, that was years ago!” Nathan snapped. “I never asked your father to save me. I’ve treated you well all these years out of guilt—don’t keep throwing that in my face!”

And then he walked away with Madeline.

My father was awaiting trial. That dagger could’ve saved him.

I chased after them, tried to grab it from her. A car came out of nowhere.

Nathan pulled her to safety. I was the one who was hit.

My leg shattered on the spot, and I lay screaming in the road while he stood nearby—blowing gently on a scratch on her arm.

I spent a week in the hospital. Alone.

No one visited. No one called.

Only Nathan’s impatient voice came through the phone:

“When will the Blackwell Industries proposal be ready? Madeline needs to buy a house. We’ll use the earnings from this deal as her bonus.”

“And stop playing dead—I know your injury isn’t that serious. You scratched Madeline, and you haven’t even apologized…”

His words blurred in my ears, drowned by the tears pooling in my eyes.

A call from the lawyer pulled me back to the present. I turned to my friend with a small smile.

“Don’t worry. In seven days, I’ll be free of him—completely.”

---

I stood outside the company building, phone pressed to my ear.

“Ms. Eva,” the lawyer said, “in seven days, we’ll have complete evidence of Nathan’s extramarital affair. You’ll be able to file for divorce.”

I exhaled slowly. But the relief didn’t reach my chest.

My father’s injustice still weighed heavier than any divorce.

I hailed a taxi and headed across the city—to the most popular cake shop.

Just before I left the office, Nathan had stopped me.

“Pick up the cake I ordered from Summit Capital.”

For a moment, my heart stirred—today was our seventh wedding anniversary.

But then he crushed that hope with one sentence.

“Madeline has been craving that cake. Get it and deliver it to my office in half an hour.”

I froze, staring at him.

He met my eyes briefly, then glanced down at my crutches—before looking away.

“She said if you bring it yourself, she’ll give you the dagger.”

I closed my eyes and turned, leaning heavily on the crutches.

Once, I was the youngest project director at Blake Corporation—the woman who made him what he is today.

Now, I was just an errand girl.

Everything I built—my title, my projects, my pride—he had wrapped up in a bow and handed to Madeline.

When I finally limped into the office and placed the cake on his desk, out of breath, Nathan frowned.

“What took you so long?”

He didn’t even look at me—just picked up his phone and called her in.

Madeline walked in without glancing at the cake. She turned and dropped into his lap.

“Took you that long for a cake?” she scoffed. “The cream’s too soft. I lost my appetite just looking at it.”

He chuckled, hugging her closer. “Then don’t eat it.”

“You like cake, right?” she said with a smirk. “Let her have it.”

Then she tossed the box at me.

It hit my chest and crashed to the floor.

I looked down at the shattered cake, my heart twisting painfully in my chest.

Seven years.

And all that remained… was contempt.

He never let me go because he cared.

He kept me because he hated me.

A few years ago, the company was on the brink of bankruptcy.

We were barely making ends meet. Yet even then, Nathan insisted on supporting a poor student he had just met—Madeline.

I objected. And for that, he pointed at the birthday cake I had painstakingly saved up for and snapped:

“You said we don’t have money, so why did you buy a cake? Do you know Madeline nearly got tricked into going out drinking just because she couldn’t pay her tuition?”

In the end, he transferred all our savings to her, ignoring my protests.

Now, years later, he tossed a tissue box at me with disdain.

“Look at the mess you made. Clean it up.”

I caught it silently.

I knew if I didn’t play along, getting the dagger—my only hope to save my father—would become impossible.

I set my crutches aside and squatted down slowly. Such a simple motion, yet my leg screamed in agony and sweat streamed down my face.

Then my knee buckled.

I collapsed to the floor.

Nathan hurried over, his voice tinged with a concern he didn’t even seem to recognize.

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

He helped me to the desk, opened a drawer, and placed a cheap plastic hairpin in my palm.

“You said anniversaries should have a sense of ceremony,” he said with a half-smile. “Madeline helped me pick this out. Do you like it?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on the velvet box inside the drawer—emblazoned with the logo of a top-tier jewelry brand.

Just yesterday, the TV reported that Nathan had bought a seven-figure necklace as a gift for "the most important person" in his life.

Today, that necklace was around Madeline’s neck.

And on our seventh anniversary, all I got was a five-peso hairpin.

I gripped it until its edges cut into my palm.

“Nathan, I got the cake. Where’s the dagger?”

His face darkened.

“Eva,” he said coldly, “do you really want that dagger so badly? Do you understand what will happen to me if your father’s case is overturned?”

“If that case is reopened, I’ll be accused of perjury! Your father’s old—if he pleads guilty, maybe he’ll be released in a few years. But I’m still young! I run this company! Why should I go down for something that happened years ago? Can’t you consider me for once?”

His voice was full of self-righteous frustration, as if I were the unreasonable one.

“Consider you?” I let out a hollow laugh, tears brimming in my eyes.

“You were kidnapped. My father risked his life with a fruit knife to save you. And when you woke up, you pointed to him and called him a murderer! That man—my father—rescued you from the orphanage. And this is how you repay him?”

I grabbed his collar, my voice rising into a scream.

When it first happened, Nathan was the one who eagerly insisted my father was the killer.

I returned from a business trip to find my father under arrest. I nearly fainted.

I never believed the accusation. I searched tirelessly for evidence—and finally found a clue: the dagger.

And now Nathan had gifted it to Madeline like some trinket.

My words hit him like a slap. He shoved me away and slammed the office door in my face.

The impact made my ears ring.

I stood outside, trembling, my voice hoarse with desperation. “Nathan! You promised! You said you'd give me the dagger—don't go back on your word!”

“Enough!” he shouted through the door. “That’s how it is now! Keep talking, and I won’t testify at your father’s hearing. He’ll never get a reduced sentence.”

His threat hit me like a knife to the gut.

I lowered my hand in numb defeat and turned away.

He was the only eyewitness. His testimony determined my father’s fate. I couldn't afford to lose that.

Just then, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket.

I picked it up with shaking hands.

A man’s voice came through, stern and urgent.

“Ms. Eva, the review for your father’s case has been moved up. You now have three days to submit the key evidence. If not... the verdict will be finalized.”

The phone slipped from my clammy hand and hit the carpet with a dull thud.

Three days.

My father’s weary face filled my mind.

Eva… don’t worry about me. Live your life well…

No. I couldn’t let him die carrying a crime he didn’t commit.

I clenched my teeth, turned around, and slammed the president’s office door open with my shoulder.

It crashed against the wall.

And froze.

Nathan was on the desk, holding Madeline in his arms. His shirt was half undone. The room reeked of lust and betrayal.

I took a step forward—and heard the sharp crack of glass.

Looking down, I saw a shattered wedding photo of us on the floor—discarded.

On the desk behind them, a new photo of Madeline, posed coyly, had taken its place.

“Ah!” Madeline shrank into Nathan’s arms, feigning panic, though her grip on him tightened.

Nathan’s face twisted. “Eva! What the hell are you doing?!”

I smirked and pulled out my phone.

“Nathan, once the photos of your little affair hit the press, your presidency will be history.”

I raised the phone, camera already open.

“Give me the dagger—or I’ll send these pictures to every employee in this building and every news outlet in the country.”

“Give me the phone!” Nathan’s expression twisted with panic as he lunged at me, grabbing for my wrist.

In the struggle, my injured leg slammed against the floor. A sharp bolt of pain shot through me, and for a moment, everything went black.

When I came to, the phone was gone.

He stood above me, breathing heavily, deleting the photos one by one. Sweat beaded on his forehead—not from guilt, but from exertion. Always a germaphobe, he wiped his hands in disgust and threw me a cold look.

“Madeline, get her out.”

He turned and stalked into the lounge bathroom without another glance.

Madeline approached, her fingers lightly grazing her lower abdomen as she looked down on me with smug contempt.

“I’m pregnant,” she said sweetly. “Nathan said our child will be the only heir of the Blake Family.”

Pregnant?

I blinked slowly, bitterness pooling in my throat.

Once, I was pregnant with Nathan’s child too.

But while he was on the phone with Madeline, I mistakenly took expired vitamins at home—alone. The baby died that night. And he never came home.

Now, the pain in my leg made it hard to even breathe, but I forced myself to stand.

“Heir?” I laughed bitterly. “As long as I’m still his wife, your child is nothing more than an illegitimate one.”

Her smile faltered. But I didn’t stop.

“I’ll give you what you want—I’ll divorce Nathan. You can have the title of Mrs. Blake. But I want the dagger.”

Madeline narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? If I give you that dagger, Nathan could go down with your father’s case. You want me to trade his future for a title?”

“It’s true he cheated on me. If I press the issue, I could make him leave the marriage penniless. And you?” I paused, watching her expression tighten. “What if you end up raising that child alone?”

I took a step closer.

“I’ll sign an agreement. I won’t touch Nathan. I won’t even ask him to testify. If I break it, the villa my father left me will be yours—fully transferred.”

She hesitated. I could see the gears turning in her mind.

Madeline had played the long game—pretending to be the perfect woman, worming her way into Nathan’s heart—all for money.

The villa was worth more than enough to tempt her.

But she still frowned. “You’ve been married seven years. What if he doesn’t divorce you? Every time I brought it up, Nathan snapped at me.”

She mimicked his voice: “Madeline, I can give you anything—but not a divorce. I owe Eva too much. Her father raised me. And the company can’t survive without her.”

She used to accept being his hidden mistress. But now that she was pregnant, she couldn’t stand the thought of her child being a secret.

I didn’t reply. I kept glancing toward the lounge door, afraid Nathan would overhear us.

She mistook my silence for weakness.

“I don’t buy it,” she sneered. “What if he still clings to you? What if I’m left looking like the villain?”

Then, her eyes gleamed with an idea.

“Let’s test it. Let’s see who he really chooses.”

She walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a lighter—like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Without warning, she set fire to the curtains.

Flames leapt to life, crawling rapidly up the fabric. The room filled with smoke in seconds.

“Are you insane?!” I gasped, limping toward the door.

But she grabbed my wrist tightly. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave? The real show’s just starting.”

She shoved me deeper into the room, back toward the growing inferno.

The smoke thickened, and soon visibility dropped to nearly zero.

Then, from within the haze, I heard him.

“Eva? Madeline? What’s happening?!”

I coughed violently, struggling to stay upright. My legs trembled beneath me.

“Eva!” Nathan’s voice came closer, panicked. “Where are you?!”

I felt his arms around me. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll get you out.”

For a moment, the urgency in his voice felt real. The Nathan who once loved me... flickered back to life.

He soaked a towel and gently covered my face, then lifted me onto his back.

But just as we reached the hallway, a sharp cry pierced the smoke.

“Nathan! Help me! My throat— I can’t breathe!”

It was Madeline, crouched in a corner, her hands cradling her belly in mock terror.

Nathan froze.

He turned his head and saw her—coughing, crying, clinging to the walls like she was about to collapse.

I felt his hesitation like a dagger in my spine.

She coughed harder, her voice hoarse, her expression pleading.

And just like that, he set me down.

His voice cracked. “Eva… she’s pregnant. I can’t risk it. Wait here—I’ll come back for you.”

He didn’t wait for my response.

He turned and disappeared into the smoke, toward Madeline.

I sat slumped on the floor, alone in the heat and haze. The wet towel on my face had turned scalding, pressing against my skin like fire.

But the burn in my chest hurt far worse.