His words hit the silence like water striking hot oil—an instant, violent reaction.

Even braced for his cruelty, the pain still pierced my chest.

"Nonsense!"

A thunderous roar cut through the room. Patrick Gilbert slammed his cane against the floor.

"Jesse Gilbert, is your brain addled with drink?"

One sentence, and he dismissed his grandson's cruelty as a drunkard's ramblings.

I didn't scream. Didn't demand justice. I simply lowered my eyes, withdrawing my gaze from the man who was supposed to be my husband.

The guests watched, whispering, until the banquet ended. That was when a ten-billion-dollar contract slid across the table.

"Today's incident is Jesse's fault," Patrick said, his voice gruff with guilt. "Treat this as compensation. Repayment for what the Gilbert family owes you from ten years ago."

Ten years ago.

The Gilbert family had been targeted by a corporate conspiracy, pushed to the brink of bankruptcy. I was the Matthews family's only daughter, an heiress, yet I chose to marry down—binding myself to Jesse Gilbert to save them.

But on our wedding night, I wasn't held in my husband's arms. I was kidnapped by his enemies.

For three days and nights, I disappeared. When I was returned, I was battered and broken, tossed onto the pavement of the city's busiest district like trash for the world to see.

I remembered how Jesse looked back then. He had knelt before me, slamming his forehead against the ground until blood ran down his face.

"I will avenge you," he swore. "I will wipe away this humiliation. My life is yours, Tessa. Everything I am belongs to you."

But promises are cheap. He couldn't die for me, and he certainly couldn't live for me.

After the incident, humiliating photos flooded the internet. At first, Jesse channeled his rage into business. He used the capital I provided to stage a miraculous comeback—reclaiming what the Gilberts had lost and surpassing it. He sent my captors to prison, scrubbed the photos from the web, and issued a gag order so strict that mentioning the kidnapping became social suicide.

But I don't know when the silence broke.

Rumors began circulating among the elite again. Some men even dared to joke in front of Jesse, asking if he enjoyed "wearing a second-hand shoe" or "damaged goods."

It was during that resurgence of malice that I discovered I was seven weeks pregnant.

I went to his study, eager to share the news, hoping this child would bridge the distance between us. But through the oak door, I heard his voice—cold and detached.

"Damaged goods or not, what business is it of yours?"

He didn't defend me. Didn't deny the slur. His tone only betrayed annoyance—not because they insulted his wife, but because they made him lose face.

That single sentence shattered me.

The stress was instantaneous. A cramp seized my abdomen, violent and absolute.

Later, the doctor shook his head. "Mrs. Gilbert, your uterus was severely damaged ten years ago. This pregnancy was a miracle. The emotional shock caused a sudden detachment... I'm afraid there will never be another chance."

I had seen the ultrasound. The fetus was tiny, no bigger than a peanut.

The child Jesse had waited ten years for was killed by his own indifference.

At that time, I still loved him. Loved him enough to drive myself into a nervous breakdown, terrified of one question: Did he still love me?

When my health collapsed, Jesse took me to the hospital. The attending physician was Joanna Fox.

The moment she saw him, her eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"Jesse? Is that really you?"

Tears welled instantly. "I'm so sorry. I know my older brother committed those crimes. He's paid the price, but I still must apologize on his behalf."

I looked at Jesse, confused. The Fox family was responsible for my kidnapping. They were the reason for my nightmares.

But Jesse didn't recoil. He smiled—a warm, forgiving smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years.

"It's fine," he said softly. "That's all in the past. You were just a child ten years ago. You aren't responsible for Isaac's sins."

A cold dread settled in my stomach. Before I could speak, Jesse ushered me into the examination room.

The exam was clinical and cold. When I stepped out, I found Joanna speaking to Jesse, her brow furrowed in feigned concern.

"The endoscopic results are concerning," she said, her voice pitched perfectly—professional yet reluctant. "Your wife's uterine wall is dangerously thin. Extensive scarring consistent with frequent trauma. Judging by the damage... she must have had at least seven or eight abortions recently."

Jesse froze. The color drained from his face.

"Impossible," he whispered. "Every time... I used protection."

"Is it possible... that the man responsible for your wife's pregnancy wasn't you, Mr. Gilbert?"

The accusation hung in the sterile hospital air. My expression turned to ice as I faced Joanna. I demanded to know the basis for such a filthy claim.

Immediately, she shrank behind Jesse, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm a doctor. I have no conflict of interest here. I'm simply interpreting your physical condition truthfully. Why would I need to frame you?"

My gaze dropped to the ID badge pinned to her white coat.

Joanna Fox.

The name hit like a physical blow. Memories of the nightmare from ten years ago surged back—the men who had kidnapped and destroyed me. Their leader was Isaac Fox.

Ten years ago, Isaac's sister would have been just a teenager, spared from the legal fallout. But Jesse had sworn to me—promised he had exiled every member of the Fox family so I would never have to face that trauma again.

So why was Joanna Fox standing here, in Harbor City Hospital?

I looked at Jesse, disbelief chilling my blood. I needed an explanation. More importantly, I needed to know if he actually believed her lies.

He didn't answer. Instead, a faint, condescending smile played on his lips as he pulled me into his arms.

"Alright, that's enough. Whether you've had one abortion or ten, you're still Mrs. Gilbert. That hasn't changed."

The dismissal cut sharper than any insult. Ignoring my frozen expression, Jesse steered me toward the exit.

"She's just a young girl, inexperienced and eager. It's no big deal if she misdiagnosed you. Don't make a scene."

Something inside me shattered. The love I'd harbored for Jesse turned to ash. The suffocating possessiveness I once felt evaporated into cold air.

"Fine," I said, voice hollow.

After that day, Jesse began parading Joanna at every major social event. He handed the entire medical equipment division to her.

When she lost hundreds of millions through sheer incompetence, he shrugged it off.

"A beauty's smile is worth a fortune. She's young and naive. Mistakes are part of the learning curve."

But I followed the paper trail. The funds hadn't vanished—they'd been funneled into offshore accounts controlled by the Fox family.

Joanna wasn't as simple as Jesse claimed.

I hadn't planned to engage with her. But now she was encroaching on my territory. Since we were both after money, I couldn't let her stay.

For the first time, I stepped in to clean up Jesse's mess, seizing control of the project Joanna had nearly destroyed.

Jesse seemed amused rather than surprised.

"It seems I spoiled you too much. This obedient version of you is much more pleasing."

He brushed his finger against my nose in mocking affection.

"I hope you stay this way. Even if you were harmed ten years ago because of me—you're damaged goods. Marrying you and tolerating you for a decade was already supreme charity."

Perhaps sensing he'd cut too deep, he produced a velvet box containing an aquamarine necklace.

"Here. Joanna's too young for such a heavy, old-fashioned color. It suits your age better—makes you look dignified."

I'd navigated business long enough to decode the subtext. He was calling me old. Saying I was only fit for cast-offs.

Yet I smiled and accepted the box. "As long as you're happy, Jesse."

The old Tessa would have wept for nights, agonizing over whether her youth had faded.

The new Tessa? Is this worth ten million? Or twenty?

The more distracted Jesse became with his games, the more muddleheaded he'd grow—and the more I could siphon away. Only a fool fights for a husband whose heart has strayed.

I didn't need Jesse Gilbert.

I needed the Gilbert Group.

Clutching the ten-billion-dollar contract Patrick had offered me, I knocked on the study door.

"Grandpa, since I married into the Gilbert family, I am a Gilbert now. I don't need this contract as compensation for the Matthews family."

Surprise sparked in his eyes. He hadn't expected me to refuse such a massive windfall.

"The Matthews family has been in steep decline these past few years. Last year, your market cap barely scraped a few billion. Are you certain you don't want this contract?"

Patrick's voice was gruff, probing. Even after a decade of marriage to Jesse, the old man still didn't see me as a true Gilbert. He was constantly testing me, waiting for the moment I'd prioritize blood over loyalty.

I met his gaze with practiced sincerity.

"To say I'm not tempted would be a lie, Grandfather. But I married Jesse. I'm a Gilbert now. How could I siphon resources from my husband's family to subsidize my mother's? I'm not like those short-sighted women who can't see the bigger picture."

A flicker of approval passed through his eyes.

"Good. Since my granddaughter-in-law has such integrity, I'll give you something else." He leaned back, tapping his cane. "As a Gilbert, you should hold a stake in the company. There's a board meeting at the end of the month. Prepare yourself. When the time comes, I'll cast my vote for you."

My expression stayed calm—neither servile nor arrogant. "I won't disappoint you."

He reached out and patted my shoulder, his grip heavy. "Support Jesse well. He's been foolish lately, blinded by… distractions. But in his heart, he still cares for you."

Cares for me? I almost scoffed. No matter how many lines Jesse crossed, to Patrick, he was still the golden boy, the sole heir.

"He is my husband," I said, nodding obediently. "Standing by him is my duty."

Inheriting everything he owns is also my duty.

The moment the banquet ended and the guests dispersed, the atmosphere shifted. Jesse cornered me in the hallway, slamming his palm against the wall by my head. His face was thunderous.

"You really put on quite a show, didn't you?"

I looked up at him, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"

Jesse let out a cold laugh. "Did you honestly think playing the magnanimous saint would change my mind?" He leaned in, his cologne suffocating. "You didn't cry, didn't make a scene… for a second, I thought you'd actually matured. Didn't expect your methods to stay this filthy."

I truly didn't understand what he was talking about.

Impatient with my silence, he whipped out his phone and shoved the screen in my face. A call log from Grandpa.

"I brought Joanna to the banquet, and immediately after, Grandpa called to tear strips off me. He even ripped that contract from my hands and gave it to you instead. Do you dare look me in the eye and say you didn't orchestrate that?"

So he'd misunderstood again. He thought I'd run to his grandfather to tattle.

"Think whatever you want," I said flatly.

Jesse froze. The old Tessa would have panicked. The old Tessa would have begged him to believe her, desperate to clear her name.

He scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Fine. Since you refuse to be obedient, don't blame me for embarrassing you."

I assumed he meant he'd take Joanna on another shopping spree or buy her a car.

I was wrong.

On the day of the board meeting, Joanna strolled into the conference room like she owned the building. She walked past me with her chin held high, radiating smug satisfaction, and sat directly beside Jesse.

"I've resigned from the hospital," she announced, her voice dripping sweetness. "Mr. Gilbert recommended me for a seat on the board. We'll be colleagues from now on."

The voting commenced. I passed with unanimous support; my ten years of work spoke for themselves.

Joanna barely scraped by. Only Jesse's faction voted for her.

She didn't seem to care about the numbers. She only cared about the victory. She leaned toward me, dropping her voice so only I could hear. "It took you ten years to get a seat at this table. I did it in two weeks. I think we both know who the real winner is."

At the head of the table, Patrick's face was a storm cloud. The board wasn't a playground for stray pets, yet here was Jesse, forcing his mistress into the inner circle.

Even worse, the Fox family was the very architect of the crisis that nearly bankrupted the Gilberts a decade ago.

Jesse wasn't old, but he was acting like a senile fool.

He caught my eye and raised a brow—a silent taunt: This is the price of your disobedience.

I held his gaze, expression unreadable: As long as your little canary stays in her cage, I don't care.

As we walked out, Jesse caught my arm, halting me in front of the other directors.

"I'm flying to the Middle East tomorrow," he announced loudly. "You and Joanna need to get along. She's new to this. Make sure you mentor her properly."

A ripple of shock went through the bystanders. Asking the wife to train the mistress? Unheard of. A public humiliation.

I lowered my gaze, masking the cold fury burning in my chest.

Patrick, unable to stomach the scene, glared at his grandson, knuckles white on his cane. But Jesse didn't flinch. He wasn't afraid of the old man anymore.

He leaned down to my ear, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper.

"Grandpa is old, Tessa. He won't be around to protect you forever. If you know what's good for you, don't play any tricks while I'm gone."