Mariah’s POV

Back in my room, I lay awake all night.

I thought about every time Viggo and I had been intimate over the years. Every single time, it was over before it even began.

I had tried initiating. Tried pleasing him. Tried warming something that always felt cold.

He always said he was just tired. That he didn’t have the energy.

Turns out it wasn’t about energy.

He just wasn’t interested in me.

I wiped the dampness from the corner of my eyes and forced them shut.

When I woke up the next morning, the house was already empty.

I didn’t bother wondering where they’d gone.

I went straight to the company under my name. I wanted everything settled cleanly.

But the moment I walked into the lobby, I saw Viggo. Beside him was Carmilla, wearing a mask. There was also Cruella, her hand held tightly between them. They were strolling through the lobby like a family.

I had never seen him look this openly triumphant.

Like a rooster showing off its prize.

All these years, everything he had, his position, his status, had come from me.

In front of me, he always had to lower his head, restrain himself, and pretend.

In front of Carmilla, he finally felt whole.

I was busy. I didn’t want to acknowledge them. I just wanted to finish my work and leave.

But Carmilla called out anyway.

“Mariah! You’re here!” She smiled. “It’s been so many years. I didn’t expect you’d still be this impressive, building a company this big with Viggo.”

In just a few sentences, she lightly brought up college, brought up dating, and casually mentioned the past.

“Back then, Viggo and I were together. Then you suddenly appeared.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Maybe… you two really were meant to be.”

“I just wasn’t lucky enough.”

In just a few sentences, she painted me as the shameless intruder.

But she misjudged her audience.

Aside from a few new hires whispering among themselves, the long-time employees, people who’d followed me for years, turned around and walked away with a blank expression.

Viggo was pleased.

He leaned in and said quietly, “Carmilla hasn’t seen the company before. I’m just showing her around.”

“Don’t overthink it.”

Cruella chimed in, too.

“Mom, don’t be jealous.”

“That’s what bitter women do.”

I didn’t look at them again.

I handed the reviewed contract to my assistant and turned to leave.

I’d just reached the end of the corridor when the floor jolted beneath my feet.

At first, it felt like a brief imbalance like an elevator misfiring.

Then the entire floor began to sway. Ceiling lights rattled violently, metal screeching.

The earthquake alert sounded.

My first instinct wasn’t to run. I turned back.

“Everyone evacuate immediately!” I shouted toward the office floor. “Follow the drill routes. Don’t push!”

The veteran employees moved almost on reflex, grabbing emergency kits, shielding one another as they headed for the stairwells.

But the new hires Viggo had brought in clearly hadn’t been trained.

They panicked, screaming and stampeding toward the exits.

“Stop running!” I tried to stabilize the chaos. “Stay against the wall! Move in order!”

But no one listened.

In the confusion, Viggo scooped up Cruella with one arm, grabbed Carmilla with the other, and bolted for the exit without looking back.

I had just taken a step when he shoved me hard.

“Move!”

I wasn’t prepared for that. I slammed into the edge of a desk. Pain tore through my lower back. Before I could steady myself, another desk was knocked over by the crowd and crashed down on my leg.

I let out a muffled groan. I was trapped in place!

Above us, a ceiling light broke free, falling straight toward Carmilla.

“Carmilla!”

Viggo reacted on instinct.

He released Cruella and lunged forward, throwing his body over Carmilla.

The light fixture smashed into his back. Blood soaked through his shirt almost instantly.

But he didn’t make a sound. He only held Carmilla tightly and said in a rushed, hoarse voice, “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”

Cruella, left behind when he let go and left her where she stood.

She fell to the ground, her face pale, crying without sound. Her limbs were weak; she couldn’t even stand up.

I saw her. No matter what, she was still the child I gave birth to.

My leg was pinned. My back throbbed so badly I could barely breathe. But I still clenched my teeth and dragged myself over.

“Cruella… don’t be scared.”

Panting, I pulled her into my arms. “Hold onto me.”

I dragged her toward the exit inch by inch. Dust and debris kept raining down. My throat burned from the air.

Thankfully, the shaking eased quickly.

Rescue staff rushed in and lifted the desk off my leg.

I had just steadied myself and hadn’t even had time to breathe in relief when Cruella suddenly shoved me away.

“Don’t touch me!”

Mariah’s POV

Cruella scrubbed at her face in disgust. “So gross! That’s disgusting!”

Before I could react, she stumbled toward Carmilla and threw herself into her arms.

“Mom! Are you okay? I was so scared… I was so scared…”

Carmilla burst into tears, clutching her tightly.

Viggo’s back was torn open, blood soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t spare himself a glance. He lowered his head, checking Carmilla over and over.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get scared?”

In that moment, love and indifference stood in stark contrast.

I stood off to the side, something lodged in my chest so tightly I could barely breathe.

For weeks I’d told myself to stay calm. To harden my heart. But when you finally understand that you are not the one being chosen… it still hurts. It hurts so badly your whole body trembles.

I didn’t understand how it had come to this.

I used to believe Viggo had loved me, at least once.

Seven years ago, during the cruise ship fire, he never left my side.

We drifted at sea for three days and three nights. He fed me his own blood to keep me conscious and begged me not to give up. When we were rescued and I burned with a high fever, he ignored his own weakness and took care of me for an entire week.

Back then, I thought I would marry no one but him.

My dad called me foolish. He threatened to cut ties with me. And I accepted it without hesitation.

But now, with something to compare it to, I finally see the truth.

He did save me. It just wasn’t love.

It was a carefully packaged debt of gratitude.

And that life-saving favor? Over these past few years, I’ve repaid it in full.

We owe each other nothing now.

At the hospital, I had just finished getting my wounds treated when the door to my room was kicked open.

Viggo’s parents stormed in.

“You curse!” his mother shrieked, pointing at me as if I were something rotten. She even tried to claw at my face. “If it weren’t for you, how could he be hurt this badly?”

“What kind of company building collapses like a condemned house? Lights falling from the ceiling?! Are you kidding me?”

I looked up at them, cold and steady.

“My building meets top-tier safety standards. No one controls an earthquake. Your son got hurt because he chose to save someone. Why is that my fault?”

She froze, clearly not expecting me to talk back.

Her face flushed red. Clutching her chest dramatically, she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.

“You’re coming with me. You’re going to apologize to Viggo!”

But when we reached his hospital room, they suddenly stopped.

Viggo had settled Carmilla onto the bed. He was feeding her medicine himself.

When he saw his parents, he didn’t even glance in my direction.

“She was really shaken up,” he said. “Mom, can you massage Carmilla’s head? She says it’s killing her.”

His parents’ expressions changed instantly. They rushed over to her bedside.

“Oh, dear, what’s wrong? Why are you so pale?”

Then, as if on cue, they turned and snapped at me again.

“This is all because your company isn’t safe! You bring nothing but bad luck, making everyone miserable!”

Cruella ran over and hit me.

“You built a bad building on purpose! You wanted to hurt my mom!”

Carmilla spoke weakly from the bed.

“Cruella, don’t blame Mariah. No one can predict an earthquake.”

Viggo’s eyes reddened with tenderness. Right in front of me, he brushed her hair back and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

Cruella threw herself into Carmilla’s arms again. “Mommy worked so hard.”

His parents sighed along.

“If he’d married Carmilla back then, none of this would’ve happened.”

As if the earthquake were something I had personally caused!

As if only Carmilla had been injured, and I hadn’t been hurt at all.

I stood there, expressionless.

But inside, it felt like thousands of ants were gnawing at my heart. The pain spread and spread until I could barely stand. Until I nearly broke.

The in-laws I’d bent over backward to please adore Carmilla.

The husband and daughter I gave everything to didn’t recognize me. Didn’t love me. Didn’t even ask about my injuries.

I was a complete joke.

I turned and walked away without another word.

I asked the nurse to start my discharge paperwork.

It wasn’t even finished when someone blocked my path at the corner of the hallway.

“Mariah.”

I looked up.

Carmilla stood a short distance away.

Her makeup was gone. A strip of gauze was taped to her forehead. She looked pale, fragile. In her hand, she held a cup of warm water, like she’d been waiting for me.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly. “Back at the company… I didn’t expect Viggo to act so impulsively.”

Mariah’s POV

I didn’t respond. I turned and started to walk away.

“Honestly, the way he rushed over like that scared me, too.”

She continued behind me, her voice calm, not loud, but every word landed clearly.

“I didn’t even have time to react. He was already standing in front of me.”

“Don’t misunderstand,” she added lightly. “It was just instinct. He saved me first without thinking. After all, no matter how much you have, you still can’t win a man’s heart.”

The words were naked provocation. A quiet boast.

My steps slowed, but I didn’t turn around.

Then, suddenly, a dull thud sounded behind me.

A woman’s sharp gasp. The sound of a body hitting the floor.

A bad feeling surged up my spine.

I spun around.

Carmilla was sprawled on the ground, her forehead smashed against the sharp corner of a cabinet. Blood streamed down from her temple.

She lifted her head, eyes red, voice trembling.

“Mariah… why did you push me?”

For a split second, my mind went completely blank.

Then the hospital room door flew open.

Viggo rushed in.

He saw the blood and Carmilla on the floor.

His face darkened instantly.

“Mariah!”

He crossed the room in a few strides and slapped me across the face.

The sound was sharp and loud. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he roared. “She’s an actress! How could you hurt her face?!”

“If you’re angry, take it out on me!”

“Is this because my parents don’t like you, so you lash out at someone else?”

I spoke on instinct. “I didn’t push her—”

Before I could finish, he cut me off with a cold laugh. “You didn’t?”

He looked at me with open contempt. “So you expect me to believe that an actress—someone who treasures her face more than anything—would smash her own head into a cabinet just to frame you?”

“Mariah,” he said slowly, deliberately, “do you really think you’re some pampered heiress having a princess meltdown?”

“You enjoy taking your anger out on others that much?”

At that moment, every urge I had to explain vanished.

He had already decided I was guilty. Nothing I said would change that.

I lifted my head and looked straight at him.

“A pampered heiress?”

I repeated softly.

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly smiling. “I am.”

“I gave up being one for you. I walked away from my dad’s wealth, brought you a wedding gift, married you, and built everything from the ground up by your side.”

“Anyone else can accuse me of having a princess complex,” I said, locking eyes with him. “But you, Viggo? You don’t deserve to.”

As the last word fell, I slapped him back. Harder than he had hit me.

The sound echoed through the room.

Viggo completely lost control. He never imagined that I, the woman who had always swallowed everything, would raise a hand against him.

He lunged forward, but Carmilla grabbed him tightly.

“Viggo, don’t,” she cried, shaking her head. “Forget it. I’m fine.”

That sentence snapped him back to reality.

He hadn’t gotten all my money yet. This wasn’t the time to lose his head.

He took a deep breath. His face was still ugly, but the pretense of tenderness was gone.

“Let’s go.”

He bent down, lifted Carmilla into his arms, and turned to leave.

Before walking out, he tossed over his shoulder,

“Mariah, I’m taking Cruella to stay with my parents for a few days. When you finally realize you were wrong, then I’ll come home.”

He thought it was a killing blow.

He thought I’d do what I always did. Llower my head, apologize, cry, beg him to come back.

But I never would again.

I wiped away my tears and took a deep breath.

Then I booked the earliest flight out.

All that packing over the past few days, sorting through my belongings, closing out the company, was just me being reluctant to leave a place I’d lived in for years. A home I hadn’t fully let go of.

But really, as the Victorians’s eldest daughter, what couldn’t I buy again? What company couldn’t I rebuild?

The reason I hadn’t left right away was never about those worthless things.

And now, none of it mattered.

At the airport, my lawyer’s message came through.

[Ma’am, all divorce procedures have been fully completed.]

[The terms of the divorce agreement are being enforced, and your ex-husband is about to lose everything.]

With a faint smile playing on my lips, I transferred the funds from my bank account to the law firm. I snapped a screenshot and sent it to my lawyer: "Thank you for your help. Please find the receipt for my legal fees attached."

Moments before the plane took off, I found the contact info for Viggo and his family and blocked them for good.

"Happy divorce, Viggo. Soon enough, you'll realize that the one leaving with nothing isn't me—it’s you."

Three days later, thinking everything was settled, convinced he still had me under control, Viggo smirked as he called the house landline.

He was waiting for me to cry, to apologize, to beg him to come home.

Instead, a stranger answered.

“Hello, this is a real estate agency.”

“The property has already been sold. Please return as soon as possible to collect your personal belongings. Otherwise, they will be disposed of in the community trash area.”

At the same time, Carmilla, face mask on, voice lazy, drawled from beside him.

“Honey, when can we move back into the big house?”

“Mariah still hasn’t apologized yet?”