The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal.

"I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail."

Tears. Fake concern.

"This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand.

I signed it.

In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility.

This time? I played along.

By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets.

Nancy? Front and center.

"Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!"

But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case.

Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said,

"Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"

The second I signed that plea deal, Simon's eyes lit up.

Caught him staring—he switched to some fake sad face.

"Heidi, relax. I'll hire the best lawyer. Once you're in, I'll pull a few strings, get you out early."

I bit back a laugh. "Save it."

He looked all flustered. "Heidi! I know you're upset, but you can't just give up. Think about your parents—"

Blah, blah, fake concern on full blast.

If I hadn't lived through it all before, maybe I'd have fallen for it.

Last time, the second I refused to plead guilty, he flipped. Faked evidence. Had inmates use cold, sharp tools to rip away any chance I had at being a mom.

I hated him. He was the one who got Nancy to steal Johnston Group's secrets—just so he could cash in.

And somehow I was the one who got wrecked?

"Heidi?" His voice cut through. "You look pale."

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

"I'm fine," I said with a shaky smile. "Just nervous about jail."

Simon reached for my hand—nope, I pulled back.

He blinked, caught off guard, but he was too busy gloating over that signature to care.

He slid the paper into his briefcase like it was gold.

"I'll show this to the judge in three days," he said. "Till then, it's our little secret."

I just nodded. Real quick.

After signing, I got out on bail.

Outside the courthouse, Simon opened the car door like he used to—hand over my head and all, acting like nothing changed.

Still rocking the fake-fiancé look, he gave me those soft eyes. "Heidi, let me take you home."

Home? Yeah, right.

That villa was packed with memories, but it wasn't mine anymore.

The second we walked in, some strong, cheap perfume smacked me in the face.

Everything had changed. My clean, minimalist style? Gone. Replaced with tacky junk.

Even our wedding photo got shoved in a dusty storage room.

When he saw me staring at it, his face twitched—embarrassed for a sec—then boom, back to fake-sweet mode.

"All of this was Nancy's idea..."

Simon went, "You know how she is—pregnant, all over the place emotionally..."

I didn't say a word, just walked straight to the bedroom.

The second I opened the door—bam. That same sickly perfume hit me.

On the bed? Lingerie. Definitely not mine. And on the nightstand, a photo of Simon and Nancy all cuddled up.

I spun around, ice in my voice. "You two sleep in my bed?"

Simon freaked. "It's temporary! Once Nancy has the baby, I'll ask her to leave—"

"Don't bother." I shut him down. "I'm just here to grab my stuff."

I marched to the closet—packed with Nancy's designer junk.

My stuff? Shoved in a suitcase, dumped in the corner like trash.

"Heidi, don't be like this..." Simon reached for my hand. "I know this is hard, but—"

I jerked away.

Right as I bent to zip the suitcase, my phone lit up.

[Breaking! Wynn family heiress signs plea deal, admits to stealing Johnston Group trade secrets!]

Comments were already blowing up.

[Wait, the Wynn heiress really did that?]

[I thought she was covering for Nancy!]

[Lock her up!]

My stomach dropped. I looked at Simon, totally stunned.

I did what he wanted—signed the deal—and he still screwed me.

Simon saw the headline and flinched. "I... I was gonna keep it quiet, really. But Nancy—she's pregnant, and she was a suspect too. I didn't want her dragged into it..."

I was beyond let down, but I kept it chill. "It's fine."

Slipped my phone away, face blank. "The hearing's in three days anyway."

He let out a breath, all smiles again, and grabbed my hand. "I'm glad you get it. Don't worry, once you're in prison, I'll take care of your parents."

Gross.

I yanked my hand back and picked a different room to crash in for the night.

Once the house went quiet, I called a number I hadn't touched in years.

It rang once. I exhaled slowly. "Mr. Johnston, this is Heidi Wynn. I need to talk to you—in person."

I was up early the next morning, dressed and ready to head out.

Right as I hit the entryway, I ran into Simon.

He eyed me up, frowning. "Going somewhere this early?"

"Just running an errand."

I kept my head low, switching shoes, dodging his stare.

Then he grabbed the door handle, voice sharper. "It's not a good time for you to be out. You're on bail—what if someone sees you?"

I wasn't trying to start anything. "Move."

His face darkened. He snatched my wrist, squeezing hard.

"Heidi, don't forget your place."

I tried yanking free, but he yanked harder—dragged me upstairs like I weighed nothing.

His grip was brutal, digging into my skin.

"Guess I've been too easy on you..."

Then he clapped.

Two guys in black stepped out of nowhere.

"Tie her up. Lock her in the basement. She's not leaving till after the trial."

They grabbed me fast. I fought, but it didn't matter.

All I could do was shoot daggers at Simon.

"You're locking me up, Simon?!" My voice cracked, pure rage.

His eyes went cold. "Don't blame me. You did this to yourself."

The basement was freezing, damp, lit by one sad little bulb.

Simon stood in the doorway, shadowed and unreadable.

"You're staying here till the trial," he said, all ice.

The second he finished, his guys shoved me in.

I slammed into the wall—pain shot through my shoulder.

"Ugh—"

I winced, biting back the sound, glaring up at him.

Simon paused, then muttered for them to untie me.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a necklace, glittering with diamonds.

"Heidi..." His voice tried for soft. "I had this made for you. Think of it as... goodwill."

He held it out, the gems catching the dim light, all sharp edges and fake promises.

I didn't budge. Just stared him down.

"What, trying to bribe me now? Afraid I'll run?"

His smile cracked. He sighed. "I still have feelings for you."

I laughed, short and sharp. "This how you show love? Framing me for your side chick and tossing me in a basement?"

He tensed, about to speak—then Nancy's voice rang out from the stairs.

She rushed down and snatched the box like it was hers. "Ooh, what a gorgeous necklace! Simon, is this for me?"

Simon blinked. "Nancy, that's for—"

"I don't care. I want it!" She clipped it on, pouting. "Heidi's heading to jail. No point wasting something this pretty on her."

Simon glanced between us, then gave Nancy a soft smile. "Alright. If you like it, it's yours."

But Nancy wasn't done.

She yanked off her old, crusty chain and held it out to me with a smirk. "Well, if she's losing her gift, she should get something back. This can be Heidi's necklace."

Simon brushed past her spite and turned to me. "See how thoughtful Nancy is? I really think you two could get along."

I looked at that sad little chain and let out a sharp laugh.

Simon kept talking. "And since Nancy's pregnant and you..." He paused. "The doctors said you probably can't have kids. So I've decided to end our engagement. I'm marrying Nancy."

I'd braced for it, but it still cut deep.

"But don't worry," he rushed in, like that made it better. "I'm not heartless. Once you're out, I'll set you up with a place and a job. After all, we did—"

I laughed, cold and bitter. "You really think I'd believe a word you say?"

Nancy clung to his arm, smug. "Heidi, don't be so dramatic. Simon's being nice. What guy would want a woman who can't have kids?"

I clenched my fists, nails digging in till it hurt.

Good. The pain kept me sharp. Kept me from snapping.

This wasn't the moment to fight back—yet.

Late that night, the basement door creaked open.

I looked up, frowning.

Nancy strutted in, heels clicking, smirk locked in.