"Harvey, make her stop!" Nancy wailed, stumbling backward.

She grabbed her chest, her face twisting in sudden agony.

"What are you doing?" I asked, freezing in place.

"She warned me!" Nancy sobbed, pointing a trembling finger at me. "In the restroom. She cornered me!"

"I have not left this room since you arrived."

Nancy shook her head wildly. "You ripped my mother's necklace right off my neck. You said if I didn't stay away from him, you would ruin me."

"That is an absolute lie." I turned to my husband. "Harvey, tell her she is lying."

Harvey’s jaw set into a hard line. "Where is the necklace, Nancy?"

"She took it," Nancy cried.

Eleanor marched forward, her heels tapping sharply against the marble. "Check her bag."

Maria, the head maid, reached for my silver clutch.

I yanked my arm away. "Do not touch my property."

"If you have nothing to hide, open the bag," Richard, my father-in-law, demanded. He stepped out from the crowd, his heavy gaze pinning me down. "We do not harbor thieves, Jessica."

I shoved the clutch into Maria's hands. "Open it. Prove her wrong."

Maria unclasped the lock. She reached inside, her fingers pulling out a tangled mess of gold chain and pearls.

Gasps echoed through the parlor.

My stomach plummeted. "I did not put that in there."

Harvey snatched the broken jewelry from the maid. He held it up, his eyes burning with disgust. "Are you insane?"

"She planted it!" I shouted, gesturing at Nancy. "She bumped into me when she hugged you!"

"Why would I break my dead mother's jewelry?" Nancy whimpered, burying her face in Harvey's shoulder.

Eleanor wrapped her arms around Nancy's waist. "Shh, darling. It is over." She shot me a venomous glare. "Apologize to her right now."

"I will not apologize for a crime I didn't commit."

Richard slammed his cane against the floor. "You lack the basic grace of a Crawford. You are behaving like a jealous, spiteful child."

"Look at her face, Harvey," I begged, stepping closer to him. "She is playing a game."

Harvey held his hand up, stopping me. "Go home. You have embarrassed me enough for one night."

They stood in a tight circle. Harvey, his parents, and Nancy. A united front.

I was a trespasser in their perfect picture.

I spun around and walked out of the parlor.

The grand hallway felt like a freezer. I wrapped my arms around my waist, heading for the side exit to wait for my driver.

Low voices drifted from the cracked door of Richard's private study.

"She humiliated our entire family," Eleanor snapped.

I stopped, pressing my shoulder against the cold wall.

"Jessica was completely out of line," Richard agreed. "She has no control over her emotions."

"If Nancy had not suddenly moved to Paris three years ago," Eleanor sighed, "the woman standing beside him tonight would have been her. It should have been her."

Silence stretched through the narrow gap in the doorway.

My nails dug into my palms. Tell them they are wrong, Harvey. Tell them you chose me.

"Do not bring up the past," Harvey muttered.

My chest caved in.

No anger. No defense. Just a tired request to ignore the truth.

He didn't love me. I was just a placeholder. A convenient distraction to pass the time until his real love returned.

I took a cab back to our penthouse.

The massive apartment felt like a tomb. I walked straight into Harvey's home office.

I needed to know how deep the lie went.

I yanked open the bottom drawer of his heavy oak desk. A dusty, leather-bound photo album sat wedged beneath a stack of old tax returns.

I pulled it out and flipped the thick cover open.

Dozens of pictures stared back at me. Harvey and Nancy at a summer house. Harvey and Nancy at a university gala. Harvey pressing a kiss to Nancy's cheek.

I turned the page, and my blood ran ice cold.

A solo shot of Nancy at nineteen.

She wore a simple white sundress. Her dark hair hung straight down her back, parted exactly down the middle.

I looked down at my own reflection in the dark windowpane. I wore a white, A-line gown.

I reached up and touched my hair. Long, dark, parted exactly down the middle.

"Keep it long, Jess," Harvey had told me on our first anniversary, swatting away a pair of scissors. "It looks better that way."

"I love you in white," he had insisted before our engagement party. "Buy more white dresses. It suits you."

I picked up the album, flipping through the remaining pages with shaking hands. Nancy wearing a silver teardrop pendant. Nancy holding a bouquet of white lilies.

I walked over to the vanity in the corner. I picked up the expensive bottle of floral perfume Harvey bought me every Christmas.

I looked closely at the label. Then I looked at the photo of Nancy's dressing table in the album.

The exact same bottle sat on her mirror tray.

The album slipped from my fingers. It hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.

I wasn't a placeholder.

I was a replica. A cheap, customized doll he dressed up to look like the woman he actually wanted.

The front door clicked open.

Footsteps echoed in the foyer. Two sets.

"Harvey, I cannot sleep in the guest room," Nancy's fragile voice whined. "I had a nightmare."

Why was she here? He brought her to our home?

I stepped out of the office, hiding in the shadows of the long hallway.

They stood outside the master guest suite. Nancy wore a thin silk robe, clutching the fabric tight against her chest.

"It was just a bad dream, Nance," Harvey said, his tone softer than I had heard it in months.

"The thunder scared me," she whispered, looking up at him through thick lashes. "Can you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

"Jessica is probably awake," he murmured, glancing toward our closed bedroom door at the far end of the hall.

"Please," she begged, trailing a finger down his wrist.

Harvey didn't pull away. He pushed the guest room door open and guided her inside.

He didn't pull the door shut. A sliver of warm yellow light spilled out into the dark corridor.

I crept forward, my bare feet making no sound on the floorboards.

I stopped just outside the narrow gap.

Nancy sat on the edge of the mattress. Harvey stood between her knees, his hands resting gently on her shoulders.

"You are safe now," Harvey said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register.

"I missed you so much," Nancy whispered, leaning her head against his stomach.

Harvey stroked her dark hair, his fingers tangling in the strands.

"I have been waiting for you to come back all these years," he said.

"We are terminating your contract, Jessica," David said, tossing the legal notice across his glass desk.

"You cannot be serious," I said, my fingers trembling as I picked up the paper. "My *Eternal Bloom* collection launches tomorrow morning. I spent six months refining those jewelry designs."

"They already launched," David replied coldly, turning his laptop screen toward my side of the table. "Two hours ago. Under the Luxe Jewelers brand."

I stared at the high-resolution display. Nancy’s smiling face filled the livestream, standing in front of a velvet case holding my emerald and diamond necklaces.

"Those are my creations," I choked out, tapping the screen. "That vine motif is my signature."

"Nancy released the digital CAD files and her dated Paris sketches to the press at dawn," David barked, crossing his arms over his chest. "She told the media that you hacked her cloud storage while she was moving back to America. She claims you are jealous of her bond with your husband, so you stole her work."

"She is a liar! She stole them from me!"

"Your own studio computer confirms her story," David snapped, leaning forward. "Our IT department analyzed your hard drive an hour ago. The creation timestamps on all your design files were altered yesterday afternoon. You are a thief, Jessica. Your career is over."

"I did not touch those timestamps!" I shouted, slamming my palm on the glass. "Someone accessed my workstation!"

"The合作品牌—our partner brands—already pulled their endorsements," David said, pointing a rigid finger toward the office door. "The internet is calling you a fraud. Get out of my firm before I call security to drag you out."

"I have the physical graphite drafts," I insisted, grabbing my purse from the chair. "The original hand-drawn sketches are in my wall safe at home. I will prove she framed me."

"Do whatever you want," David muttered, turning his back to me. "No label in this city will ever hire you again."

I ran out of the office and drove back to the penthouse like a madwoman, ignoring the dark thunderclouds gathering over the city skyline. I sprinted into the study, spun the combination lock on the safe, and pulled out the thick portfolio of my original drawings.

I needed Harvey. My husband had to see the undeniable proof of what his childhood friend was doing to my life.

I hurried up the curved staircase to the master bedroom. Empty.

A low, rhythmic thumping sound echoed from the far end of the upstairs hallway.

I walked toward the guest suite. The heavy door stood open by an inch.

"Fuck, Harvey, put your cock deeper inside my pussy," Nancy moaned loudly, her voice thick with raw lust.

My feet froze against the carpet.

Through the narrow gap, I looked at the bed. Harvey was on top of her, driving his hips forward, slamming his thick cock into her bare pelvis. Nancy’s legs were wrapped tight around his lower back, her heels digging hard into his skin.

"You feel so fucking good, Nancy," Harvey grunted, his hands grabbing her bare breasts and squeezing hard. "I have wanted to fuck your wet pussy for three fucking years."

"Harder," Nancy gasped, arching her spine to meet his thrusts. "Fuck me harder, Harvey! What if Jessica finds out we're fucking in her house?"

He pulled back and rammed his cock deep inside her again, the wet, slapping sound of their flesh filling the room. "She will never compare to you, Nancy. You're the only woman I want to fuck."

My hands lost all their strength.

The portfolio slipped from my grip. Dozens of original design sketches scattered across the floor, the white paper spilling over the dark wood like dead leaves.

Three years of loyalty. Three years of trying to be the perfect wife. It was all a complete lie.

I turned and ran. I did not care about the sketches, my ruined reputation, or my coat. I burst out the front doors of the building and into the freezing rainstorm.

The downpour poured over me, soaking my clothes in seconds. My chest burned with sharp, stabbing pains. I couldn't draw enough air into my lungs.

My shoe caught the edge of a wet sidewalk curb.

I hit the concrete hard, a blinding agony ripping through my lower abdomen before the dark street faded into absolute blackness.

When my eyes opened, harsh fluorescent lights burned into my vision.

"Mrs. Crawford?" a voice asked nearby.

I turned my head on the stiff pillow. A doctor in a white coat stood beside my hospital bed, holding a metal clipboard.

"Where am I?" I croaked, my throat feeling like sandpaper.

"You are in the emergency recovery ward at St. Jude Hospital," the doctor said softly. "A pedestrian called an ambulance after you collapsed in the rain."

I tried to sit up, but a dull, throbbing cramp in my lower stomach forced me back down against the mattress. "Why does my stomach hurt so much?"

The doctor lowered his clipboard, his face filled with pity. "You suffered severe physical trauma and extreme emotional shock, Mrs. Crawford. I am so sorry. We could not save the pregnancy."

The room spun around me. "What did you just say?"

"You were five weeks pregnant," he explained gently. "You suffered a miscarriage during the fall."

A baby. I was going to be a mother.

I pressed my hands against my flat stomach, hot tears spilling over my eyelids and soaking into the hospital sheet. My child was gone before I even knew it existed.

The doctor sighed, offering a sad nod before stepping out of the room.

Footsteps approached the open doorway of my ward a moment later.

I froze, holding my breath as two familiar shadows fell across the linoleum floor outside.

"Did you know Jessica had a miscarriage, Harvey?" Nancy’s voice floated into the room, sounding painfully sweet and artificial. "That is so sad. Poor thing."

I stared at the ceiling tile, waiting for my husband to rush through the door, waiting for him to show a single shred of human grief for our lost child.

"It does not matter that she lost the baby," Harvey replied from the hallway, his tone completely flat and icy. "We will have our own children soon anyway."

My heart did not break. It turned to stone.

I wiped the wet tears from my cheeks, the last trace of my love for Harvey Crawford evaporating into nothing.

Out in the main hospital corridor, thirty feet away from my door, a tall man in a dark charcoal suit stood watching my room. His posture was rigid, commanding an undeniable aura of absolute power.

"Mr. Oscar, that is her," a young secretary whispered, stepping up behind the powerful stranger. "That is Jessica."