Perhaps Duke saw the sorrow pooling in my eyes. He sighed, his tone softening.

"Gertrude, I know I've wronged you. But I'm doing this for the child."

"Stacy's position is already... delicate. And she's pregnant. Without shares to her name, how is she supposed to hold her head up in high society? Our child would be whispered about too."

"Stacy and I have already discussed it. If you're willing, you can travel overseas—go wherever you like. If you'd rather stay with the company, we can arrange a quiet position for you. Something comfortable. You can retire in peace. We certainly won't leave you wanting for money. Just ask, and it's yours. We won't mistreat you."

"Haven't you noticed how smoothly business has been going these past six months? The master said it himself—Stacy's child is a lucky heir, destined to bring glory to the Stephens name."

I laughed. It tasted like vinegar.

A grown man believing this nonsense. A lucky heir?

Why not call it what it really was—a bastard born of betrayal. But of course, he'd spin it into something gilded.

And apparently, I now needed their permission to spend money I'd earned myself.

"Duke, don't you find this shameful? Since when do mistresses and gold-diggers get to strut in and steal the nest?"

"A lucky heir? As if the company was hemorrhaging money before this child existed?"

His expression darkened. Finally, the words spilled out.

"What would you know about it? You can't even bear children. If you could, do you think I would've let Stacy carry my heir?"

"We're doing this for your own good. Don't be ungrateful."

"Think it over carefully. If you can't come around... I have no problem replacing Mrs. Stephens."

The door slammed behind him.

I stared at the trembling frame, then crumpled onto the sofa.

I sat there, hollow, until dawn.

Early the next morning, Victor Whitney called.

"I studied all the materials last night, just as you requested."

"It's entirely feasible."

"Unless he'd prefer to spend the rest of his life in prison."

My voice came out quiet. Steady.

"Good. Prepare to move."

At three o'clock that afternoon, I summoned every senior executive to the boardroom.

I wore a black tailored suit, ten-centimeter heels clicking against the marble, my face revealing nothing.

Behind me followed Attorney Whitney and three senior forensic auditors. Each one carried a stack of files thick enough to break a table.

The conference room fell silent. Every eye locked onto me.

Duke had already claimed the head of the table. Stacy was draped against his side, wrapped in Chanel haute couture, wearing the smug little smile of someone who believed she'd already won.

Gone was the timid girl who used to look at me with grateful eyes.

The board members exchanged whispers. Their gazes held a cocktail of pity and the gleeful anticipation of spectators at a trainwreck.

Duke's brow furrowed when he realized I wasn't backing down. His voice carried its usual impatience.

"Gertrude, are you done making a scene? If you've come to your senses, come sign the papers."

"If you keep embarrassing everyone, you can forget about being Mrs. Stephens at all."

Stacy's eyes lit up. She pressed closer to Duke, her voice honeyed.

"Ms. Sullivan, I know this must be painful for you. But Duke and I are truly in love. I felt for him—having no heir. And the baby—"

"Shut your mouth."

I swept her with a glacial glance and walked straight to the seat beside the head of the table.

"Before you say another word, let me make something clear. You are nothing but a mistress who can't survive daylight. An ungrateful wretch. What gives you the right to speak in this room?"

Stacy's face flushed scarlet. Whatever she'd been about to say died in her throat. Her eyes, brimming with tears, turned to Duke.

A flash of anger crossed his gaze.

"I've already had my lawyer start the paperwork for the share transfer. Starting today, Stacy will be the company's largest shareholder and will replace you as Vice President. She has every right to be here."

Duke's voice dripped with condescension as he continued, "Aren't you always going on about your poor health? Why not take a trip overseas to recuperate? Don't worry—Stacy will wire you some money afterward. Consider it repayment for your ten years of... service."

I let out a cold laugh and slapped a document onto the conference table.

"Duke, let's get one thing straight. This conference room—this entire company—was built with my money. Every chair you're sitting in, every computer on every desk, was purchased with funds from my accounts." My gaze cut through him like a blade. "So tell me: what right do you have to offer me a handout?"

I turned to Stacy, my smile sharpening. "And you—repaying my kindness? By sleeping with my husband and throwing your escort money at me as thanks?"

The color drained from Stacy's face. Her composure crumbled, and she threw herself into Duke's arms, her voice a pitiful whimper.

"Duke, you know I never wanted any of this. How can she say such things about me..."

Duke's expression turned thunderous. "Gertrude, don't push your luck!"

"Fine—I'll pay back every cent from back then, with bank interest," he snarled. "But stop acting so high and mighty, like I've been freeloading off you all these years."

His finger jabbed in my direction. "Keep humiliating Stacy, and I swear I'll throw you out with nothing. You'll be sweeping streets for a living."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Playing the victim while standing on a pedestal of lies. She thought scrubbing her past clean would erase what she'd done. And him—the audacity of a man who'd built his throne on my fortune, now threatening to cast me out.

Thirty years. EmpireStar Group was no longer the modest startup I'd funded with a few hundred million. Through our combined efforts—my efforts—it had grown into a multi-billion-dollar empire. And now he had the shamelessness to offer me back my "original investment"?

I picked up the microphone from the table. My voice, laced with mockery, echoed through the conference room.

"Duke, let me show you what 'pushing your luck' actually looks like."

On cue, Victor began distributing documents to each board member.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "before you is a complete financial audit of EmpireStar Group since its founding, along with a detailed record of Mr. Stephens' asset transfers over the past decade."

He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in.

"Our investigation reveals that Mr. Stephens has transferred a total of eighty-six million dollars to Ms. Stacy Jenner during his marriage—funds derived entirely from Ms. Sullivan's pre-marital assets. Last year alone, thirty million was funneled into Ms. Jenner's overseas accounts to purchase luxury goods and a private villa."

"Ms. Sullivan intends to pursue full legal recovery of these assets."

Murmurs rippled through the room. Board members flipped through the documents, their expressions darkening as they absorbed the staggering figures. Someone muttered under their breath, "A parasite eating the company from the inside."

Duke shot to his feet, trembling with rage. "That's my money! I can transfer it to whoever I want—it's none of your business!"

"Your money?" I arched an eyebrow and hurled a share authorization agreement at his face.

"Did you forget about this, Duke?"

I let the silence stretch before continuing. "Back when we were starting out, you sweet-talked me into selling you my shares so you could 'build your dream.' But you seem to have forgotten what the contract clearly states: those funds were designated specifically for establishing a new company."

My gaze turned glacial.

"In other words, EmpireStar's entire initial capital came from me. I am the true owner of this company." I let each word land like a verdict. "So tell me—by what authority do you think you can transfer shares to your mistress?"

As the evidence piled up before him, Duke's face darkened like a sky before a storm.

Thirty years. He'd worked so hard to shed the label of a man who'd married up, convinced himself he'd built this billion-dollar empire on his own merit.

He'd forgotten one crucial detail: from the very first dollar to the last, it had always been mine. And buried in that contract was a single clause specifying the purpose of those funds—to establish EmpireStar Group.

I had Uncle Victor to thank for that clause—an old friend of my father's, he'd insisted on adding it.

At the time, I'd worried Duke might take it the wrong way. I hadn't wanted to include such a defensive provision; after all, I believed married couples should trust each other.

Uncle Victor had only said one thing:

"If he truly loves you, one clause won't make him angry—unless his intentions were never pure to begin with."

When Duke first saw that provision, he had been displeased. I'd coaxed and soothed him, explaining it away with a single line: "You're the legal representative, and I'm not asking for shares." Only then did he let it go.

Now, Duke's face drained of color. His fingers gripped the documents so hard his knuckles went white.

After a long silence, he forced out through a stiff jaw:

"Gertrude, all you did was provide the capital. I'm the one who built EmpireStar these past years. I can pay you back three times—five times—what you invested. But I'm the legal representative of this company."

I let out a soft laugh, dripping with contempt.

"And what does that make you? Nothing but hired help."

"If someone gives you a calf, and three years later you've raised it into a full-grown bull—do you really think you can hand back a calf and call it even? What world do you live in?"

Uncle Victor stepped forward at exactly the right moment, reciting the relevant corporate law.

An investor is entitled to equity corresponding to their capital contribution.

Duke stood frozen, his eyes darting rapidly as his mind raced. Then, suddenly, he looked up at me, a desperate plea creeping into his gaze.

"Gertrude, we've been married for thirty years. Why does it have to come to this?"

"If you're unwilling... after Stacy gives birth, I can give her a sum of money and send her overseas. I'll never see her again."

"We can raise the child as our own. We'll nurture him well, and he'll take care of us in our old age. EmpireStar will have an heir."

I burst out laughing—laughed until tears streamed down my face.

After everything, did he still not know the truth?

I turned and pulled a medical certificate from my bag.

"Duke, if you want to play the fool and raise some other man's bastard, that's your business. I'm not nearly so generous."

"You should ask Stacy whose child she's actually carrying."