My son was no longer with us.

His heart, while he still breathed, was cruelly harvested and given to someone of influence—Michele Finnen, the wife of Scott Langley.

Just because she had heart disease and was powerful, she sent people to snatch my son away.

As an orphan and now a single mother, my son was all the family I had.

He would curl up in my arms and whisper, "Mommy, don't be scared. I'll protect you when I grow up!"

He was the center of my universe.

Consumed by a seething hatred for Michele, I craved vengeance.

I was determined to reclaim my son's heart myself, ensuring he would leave this world whole.

To do that, I set my sights on Michele's husband, Scott. He was still enamored with his first love.

But fate played a cruel joke: suddenly, out of nowhere, that very woman experienced a car accident.

And the strangest part? I looked almost just like her.

Watch Me Steal Your Man

In an illegal clinic, my six-year-old son was trembling.

Tears streamed down his face as he cried out helplessly for his mother, pleading with those vile men to let him go, telling them I was waiting for him at home.

Despite his pleas, these merciless beasts dragged him to the operating table, denying him even the mercy of anesthesia.

Clutching my phone in horror, I watched the video sent by a kind-hearted stranger, my heart breaking with every frame as I cried my heart out.

As an orphan turned single mother, I had faced my own horrors.

At eighteen, working in a club, I was assaulted by a guest in one of the VIP rooms.

I failed to identify his face.

Eight months later, my son was born. He would curl up in my arms and, in his tiny voice, promise, "Mommy, don't be scared. When I grow up, I'll protect you!"

He was my world.

But my heart was consumed by hatred for Michele Finnen.

To exact my revenge, I targeted her husband, Scott Langley.

Michele, ever the hopeless romantic, chased endlessly after him, investing too much in their relationship.

But Scott's heart belonged to another, his first and undying love. Despite Michele's efforts, she stood no chance.

Then, one fateful day, tragedy struck. The woman Scott loved was involved in a horrific car accident.

The aftermath was devastating.

Scott, his eyes bloodshot, retreated into a deep, engulfing silence, terrifying everyone with his grief.

For two weeks after the accident, he retreated into a abyss that swallowed him whole.

When he finally emerged, he was a broken man, succumbing to his family's wishes to marry Michele.

But what kind of love could possibly grow from such a union?

I recognized a golden opportunity and knew I had to seize it, especially given my striking resemblance to Scott's first love.

I joined the Langley Group as his secretary, and one evening, I was called to pick him up from Club Kyo after he had indulged too much in drink.

Standing at the entrance of the club, I hesitated, my brows furrowed.

This was the very place where, six years earlier, I had been harassed while working part-time—a place where both my darkest and most pivotal moments began.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

There, in a private room, was Scott, slumped on a sofa, legs splayed with one hand shielding his eyes. It was clear he had had too much to drink.

At the sound of my footsteps, he lowered his hand, and his gaze met mine with an unreadable expression.

His features were youthful and handsome, his deep-set eyes more striking under the influence of alcohol, rendering him unexpectedly captivating.

Silently, I moved closer and slipped my arm under his to help him up.

As we made our way into the hallway, we encountered the club's manager.

His eyes widened at the sight of Scott, then shifted to me, his expression turning to one of surprise. For a moment, his lips parted as if to speak, but no words emerged.

…

We reached Scott's bedroom, and I gently guided him onto the bed before leaning over to reach for his necktie.

"Mr. Langley…" I murmured in a tender, coaxing voice. "Let me loosen your tie so you'll feel more comfortable."

My fingertips gently brushed over his Adam's apple in a teasing manner, and I sensed his body tense under my touch.

His gaze lifted to meet mine. From this angle, he had a perfect view of my neckline, which I deliberately lowered just enough to offer a glimpse of my fair skin and soft breasts.

His breathing quickened, his gaze intensifying as he looked at me.

I pretended not to notice and leaned in closer, our bodies pressing together.

My palm rested gently on his forehead as I purred, "What's wrong, Mr. Langley? You don't seem well. Did you drink too much? Are you feeling unwell?"

Our bodies were pressed together now, and I could feel the warmth of his skin growing hotter with each passing moment.

Suddenly, he let his fingers slip under my shirt, roughly kneading my breasts.

His voice was a hoarse murmur, "Yunice…"

His first love.

I couldn't suppress an inward smirk. My time to play the part had arrived.

"Mr. Langley, please don't," I murmured, feigning resistance while my hands lightly pressed against his chest as if pushing him away.

My voice seemed to momentarily clear the haze of intoxication, and Scott hesitated, a flicker of awareness crossing his face.

But before anything more could happen, the unmistakable sound of heels clicking sharply against the floor echoed.

Michele was coming our way.

I Know How to Make You Jealous

I was excited. I was damp, but a hint of panic surfaced in my beautiful eyes.

I raised my hand, pushing back on Scott's. "Mr. Langley, your wife is here… Your hand…"

It was only then that he seemed to remember his hand was still inside my blouse, gripping my breasts firmly.

He quickly withdrew his hands. "I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone else," he muttered.

"Miss Adrianna, you should leave," he ordered in a firm tone, trying to dismiss me.

But I didn't move. Instead, I grabbed his wrist with a trembling hand, my face a picture of stunning panic.

"Your wife is very possessive and doesn't allow any other women near you, Mr. Langley."

My voice quivered, growing more desperate. "If I walk out now, she'll misunderstand. What should I do? I don't want to die!"

The word 'die' visibly shook him, triggering a dark shadow of painful memories to cross his face.

Just then, the door clicked open.

Michele stepped into the room.

She had caught wind of Scott being overly drunk and dressed carefully for what she deemed an opportune moment.

Her wavy hair, freshly washed, cascaded sensuously down her back while the thin straps of her seductive nightgown highlighted her curves.

A flirtatious smile played on her red lips as she approached, her voice honeyed, "Honey, I heard you had a bit too much to drink. Are you holding up alright?"

Her eyes took in the sight of Scott lying sideways on the bed, propped up on one elbow with a hand supporting his head, a thin blanket draped over his lower torso.

However, she was oblivious to my presence.

Moments before, I had leaped onto the bed and tucked myself behind him. As I did, I pulled the thin blanket over both of us, a desperate attempt to stay concealed.

The space left for me was so constrained I could only press tightly against him. My soft, rosy lips lingered near the sensitive spot on his lower back, my warm breath teasing him in a barely noticeable way.

Like a playful kitten, I was gently provoking him, and it was irresistibly alluring.

I could feel the tension in his body as he spoke in a strained voice, "It's fine. You should leave."

Michele's eyes instantly filled with unshed tears upon hearing this. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with both hurt and defiance as she mumbled, "Why must you always be so cold to me?"

Scott remained unmoved. "I've already made you my wife. What more do you want? You can't be too greedy!"

"Greedy?" Michele's voice rose, quivering with pent-up emotion.

The silent rejection had worn her down, pushing her to the edge. Now, she was standing on the brink of a breakdown.

"I'm your wife!" she cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation.

"Is it so wrong for me to want my husband's affection?"

Her voice faltered, a choked plea trembling from her lips, "I just… I just want a child. A child… one that belongs to both of us…" she spoke slowly, adding with a hopeful look, "That way, we can give our parents some closure. Doesn't that sound good?"

My gaze turned icy, a murderous aura coiling within my eyes.

'My son is dead. How can the one responsible for his death roam free and still indulge in dreams of motherhood? Michele doesn't deserve a child at all!' I cursed inwardly.

I feigned a nervous, flustered expression as I brought my face closer to him. Gently, I let my breath hover near his hip, just barely brushing against him through the thin fabric of his suit pants.

This subtle tease was intentional; how could Scott possibly resist?

His body trembled, and a low moan escaped from deep in his throat, "Mmm…"

"Scott…" Michele stood frozen, disbelief etched across her face.

Suddenly, realization seemed to hit her, and her body went rigid as her eyes reddened with anger.

I was feeling a thrill of excitement.

Not wanting the tension to drop, I deliberately shifted a little, ensuring the silhouette of a woman beneath the thin blanket was briefly visible.

Michele saw everything.

Fury overwhelmed her. Casting aside all concern for her image, she prepared to rush forward, intent on tearing apart the temptress hiding beneath the blanket.

Take the Money and Leave My Man Alone

"Stop right there!" Scott's low voice rang out, his handsome face now marred with thinly veiled disgust and anger. "Michele, don't make me hate you even more."

At those words, Michele froze in her tracks.

Her eyes, red and swollen, were brimming with sorrow, humiliation, and an unwillingness to accept defeat. Yet, she ultimately gave in, deflating like a punctured balloon.

Gritting her teeth, her voice filled with stubbornness and pure anger, she declared, "In this lifetime, the only wife you will have is me, Michele! No other woman should even think about it!"

With that, she spun on her heel, feigning composure, though her steps were unsteady as she staggered away.

As Michele's footsteps faded into the distance, a pang of disappointment tugged at me. However, I remained composed, aware that this was just the beginning of a long journey filled with more thrilling encounters ahead.

The moment Michele disappeared, Scott immediately got off the bed and put a deliberate distance between us. I mirrored his actions, standing by the bedside.

With his back to me, Scott's voice was tinged with frustration as he growled, "Get out! You're just—"

But before he could complete his sentence, condemning me to merely being his secretary, I had already turned and dashed out of the room.

Scott was left stunned, slowly turning as his gaze followed my swift departure. A flicker of exasperation crossed his face, his lips twitching silently at my abrupt exit.

…

The next morning, as I stepped out of my small, rented apartment, a van screeched to a halt right in front of me.

Before I could react, two men in black suits emerged, one on either side. Without a word, they grabbed my arms and shoved me toward the open van door.

Panic surged through me as I demanded, "Who are you? Why did you catch me?"

One of the men sneered coldly, "Hmph! Do you think you're the first woman to try and seduce our boss? You're playing with fire if you think your little tricks can be hidden from the lady of the house."

'The lady of the house? Is he talking about Michele?' My mind raced.

It had only been yesterday that I escorted the intoxicated Scott back to the Langley Residence before making my exit.

If Michele decided to investigate my whereabouts, she would quickly discover my visit. 'Have I been found out before I even made my move? Shit! I've been too careless!'

…

To my surprise, however, the men drove me to a cafe.

There, in the cafe, sat Michele, lounging back in her chair with one leg crossed over the other.

She glanced at me haughtily and commanded in a tone that brooked no argument, "Sit!"

I frowned slightly, a brief hesitation flickering through my thoughts. Before I could organize them, a firm shove from behind sent me stumbling forward.

I landed awkwardly on the chair opposite Michele with a thud, looking utterly disheveled.

"Ha!" Michele let out a soft scoff, lifting her coffee cup for a slow, deliberate sip before fixing her gaze back on me.

"Tell me, how much money will it take for you to leave Mr. Langley?" she asked with haughty disdain.

My heart clenched at the bluntness of her query, but I maintained my composure, careful not to betray any emotion.

"Mrs. Langley, I think you've misunderstood. I'm just Mr. Langley's secretary. There's nothing personal between us."

I wasn't lying. Currently, I was indeed flirting with Scott. Though his instincts were clearly aroused, he hadn't fully taken my bait yet.

"So—"

Before I could finish, a card flew through the air and struck my face with its sharp edge, slicing a stinging pain across my cheek.

I was shocked by Michele's brazenness, especially going so far as to humiliate me in public.

"Ha! A woman like you, clinging to whatever beauty you have left, throwing yourself at any man with money and power. Isn't that exactly what you are? A gold digger?"

Michele's fingers intertwined as she leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her knuckles.

She glared at me, her rosy lips moving with a sharp, cutting tone as she commented, "There's 10 million in this card. No matter how skilled you are at making money, you'd never earn this much on your own, even if you sleep with countless men."

Her voice rose, and she did not bother to keep it down. "Adrianna Nanami, why don't you just nicely take the money and get out of my sight?"

Around us, the other customers turned their attention our way. Mocking gazes landed on me as whispers began to circulate and fingers rudely pointed in my direction.