I stared at the man in front of me, stunned.

In high society, there's one cardinal sin: bringing an illegitimate child into the household.

I'd tolerated his brazen affairs, but this humiliation hit different—like a slap across the face.

Maybe he caught my disbelief, because a flicker of guilt crossed Ethan's eyes.

He pulled a check from his pocket and slid it toward me.

"Five hundred thousand. Consider it compensation. That's my own flesh and blood—I can't just ignore the child."

"But don't worry. You're the wife the Sanchez family married with full ceremony. She can't threaten your position."

Five hundred thousand.

Added to my savings, it was just enough to buy back the old house, whose price had skyrocketed tenfold.

I said nothing. Expressionless, I tucked the check away and nodded.

Since the sincerity I'd given had been fed to the dogs, the money I'd put out still had to come back.

Seeing me take it, Ethan visibly relaxed.

He gave a few hollow reminders to take care of my health, then turned and hurried downstairs to comfort his precious darling.

The next day, I drove to the entertainment subsidiary to discuss business.

The general manager invited me to tour the departments.

The moment I stepped into the studio, I sensed something was off.

"I already told you I hate this color! I want that flagship custom gown—do you not understand simple words?"

Vanessa was seated at the makeup mirror, jabbing her finger at the styling director.

"Miss Fox, that piece was designated by the brand for the global spokesperson's shoot. It's not meant for a newcomer promo. We don't have the authority to reassign it."

"Don't have the authority? Ethan said all the company's resources are mine to pick from first!"

"Are you looking down on me? I could have Ethan fire every last one of you right now!"

The staff exchanged glances. No one moved.

"It really won't work, Miss Fox—"

Before he could finish, Ethan burst through the door, his expression dark.

"Can none of you understand simple words?"

The moment her backup arrived, Vanessa's eyes turned red.

"Ethan, they're all bullying me. I said I wanted that red dress, and they won't let me wear it."

He looked at the woman in his arms, tears streaming down like rain on pear blossoms, and gently wiped the corner of her eye.

"Alright, it's not a big deal. Look at you—you've cried yourself into a little spotted cat."

"You're usually so fierce with me. How are you letting people push you around?"

With the CEO personally backing a newcomer, the staff exchanged helpless looks. No one could very well refuse now.

Only the director looked conflicted. "Sir, this violates protocol. The Best Actress's team already signed a contract."

"Besides, this needs Ms. Henson's approval."

"Enough." Ethan cut him off. "Rules are dead; people are alive."

"Have Ms. Henson handle the penalty fees. She can manage this little matter."

"Mr. Sanchez is certainly generous." I pushed open the glass door, my heels clicking crisply against the marble. "Ten million in damages, and you'll pay it just like that."

The director and staff who'd looked so troubled moments ago saw me like a lifeline.

"Ms. Henson!"

When Vanessa spotted me, she immediately tugged Ethan's sleeve.

"Ethan, do I really need Ms. Henson's permission just to wear an outfit?"

"She's way too jealous, isn't she?"

I ignored the provocation in her eyes, lifted my chin, and looked straight at Ethan.

"If you insist on letting her breach this contract for a dress, you might as well hand her my VP position too."

This was the first time I had ever embarrassed him in front of the entire company.

Ethan froze at the ice in my eyes, his reprimand dying in his throat. He stiffly dropped his arm from Vanessa's shoulders, his tone softening.

"Alex, don't be ridiculous. You'll always be the group's vice president."

"If you think it's inappropriate, then handle it by the book."

The moment the words left my mouth, Vanessa's tears spilled over. She covered her face, as if mortally wounded, and fled the room sobbing.

"Vanessa!" Panic flickered across Ethan's face. He chased after her without a backward glance, leaving a room full of executives and staff standing in stunned silence.

Soon after, the finance director messaged me, practically shaking through the screen. Ethan had ordered ten million dollars transferred from company accounts into Vanessa's personal account—"compensation," he called it.

I stared at the message and almost laughed. My position as vice president, like our marriage, had become nothing more than a hollow title.

I thought I was used to all of this by now. But when I turned toward the elevator, tears fell before I could stop them.

He was always saying Vanessa had such a tragic past, that she'd lost her parents so young. He forgot that by the time I married him, the Hensons had only me left.

Seven years ago, Ethan's startup had collapsed. Crushed under debt, cornered in an alley, he'd been beaten within an inch of his life. When I found him, he was drenched in blood, a shard of glass in his hand, ready to end it all.

In that moment, I made a decision that bordered on madness.

Without telling a soul, I sold the ancestral home my parents had left me. If I hadn't sold it that day, Ethan would have been driven to his death. But once it was gone, I lost the last piece of my parents I had left.

I took that check—weightless as paper, heavy as a mountain—paid off every debt, and moved with him into a basement that reeked of mold.

That night, Ethan held me as I shivered and swore to the heavens.

"Alex, it's okay if you don't have a home anymore. From now on, I am your home. If I ever wrong you in this life, let me die a horrible death."

I believed no one would ever love me more than he did.

Now I understood: relationships are just transactions. Ethan became wealthy and famous, a business titan. He brought home one woman after another, basking in the adoration of "innocent little flowers."

And I? I had lost everything in the deal.

When I drove down the familiar stretch of Sycamore Lane, unease coiled in my chest. This was the only thing my parents had left me—the same root I had severed with my own hands for Ethan.

The moment my car rounded the corner, I knew something was wrong.

The old house, once quiet and secluded, was now surrounded by trucks plastered with film-crew logos. Thick black cables snaked through the ornate iron gate like coiled serpents. From inside the yard came the piercing shriek of power drills and the brutal thud of hammers, each blow landing like a strike to my heart.

My chest seized. I didn't even turn off the engine—just threw open the door and ran.

What I saw made my blood boil.

A crew in work uniforms swung sledgehammers at the parquet tiles in the main hall, smashing them to pieces. Those tiles—my parents had loved the pattern. Every single piece had been shipped from Southeast Asia, chosen with such care.

Now, under the violent blows, they shattered into fragments. Splinters flew everywhere.

"Stop! All of you, STOP!"

I threw myself in front of the workers, blocking them like a woman possessed. David Whitney, the homeowner, emerged from behind a stack of camera equipment. When he saw me, a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"Miss Henson, this... there's nothing I can do."

He rubbed his hands, eyes darting around, not daring to look at the mess all over the floor.

"The sale agreement back then did say you couldn't touch the renovations—everything had to stay the same. But this time… Mr. Sanchez personally spoke up and brought the crew."

David Whitney spread his hands helplessly. "With Mr. Sanchez's clout, who in Linford would dare refuse him?"

I froze. Before I could even process that, a familiar shrill laugh came from behind me.

"Oh my, these floor tiles are way too tacky. The color is so dull—it won't look high-end on camera at all. Smash it all and replace it with mahogany. That's classy."

I whipped around.

In the temporary set built in the middle of the living room, Vanessa was wearing a gaudy cheongsam slit all the way up her thigh, a feather fan in her hand.

Ethan sat in the director's chair beside her, head lowered as he watched the monitor. Hearing her, he nodded indulgently.

"Whatever you say. Change it however you want."

Seeing me appear, he froze, his expression clearly uneasy.

"Alex? Why are you here?"

I stared at the floor, smashed beyond recognition, my voice trembling.

"What are you doing? This is my—this is my former home! What right do you have to destroy it?"

Vanessa poked her head out from behind him, smugly raising her eyebrows at me.

"Alex, don't be so stingy. Ethan said this drama is tailor-made for me as the female lead."

She shook that gaudy fan, twisting her waist in an affected pose.

"And the script is about your grandma's story. I'm playing her when she was young. Shooting on location is for authenticity—you should feel honored."

I looked at the scene in disbelief.

My grandma came from a prominent family. She was one of the few in that generation who earned a doctorate overseas, and a famous physicist. All her life she was upright and proper—year-round in a plain white lab coat, moving through laboratories, dedicating her entire life to the country's scientific research.

But the woman in front of me had heavy makeup on, striking flirtatious poses, her eyes full of seductive invitation.

This wasn't a respected scientist. This was a socialite from the old days.

"Shut up! My grandma was a scientist, not someone a nobody actress who climbs up by relying on men could ever play!"

New grudges and old hatred surged up together. I couldn't take this humiliation anymore. I rushed forward, raised my hand—

But my wrist was seized viciously in midair.

Ethan flung me away, frowning as he blocked Vanessa, his eyes full of impatience.

"What the hell are you freaking out about? Vanessa is pregnant—what were you trying to do?"

I pointed at her ridiculous outfit, my eyes rimmed red.

"She's insulting my grandma! You know exactly what kind of person Grandma was! How can you allow this?"

He straightened his cuff, his tone so cold it was like he was discussing something that had nothing to do with him.

"Art comes from life but rises above life. What filming doesn't involve adaptation?"

He swept a glance at the set and let out a snort.

"Stories like your grandma's—cooped up in a lab all day—boring, dull, outdated. Who would want to watch that? What audiences want now is talented men and beautiful women, love and hate, tangled grudges. What's wrong with adding a little romance for Vanessa?"

I looked at the man in front of me and suddenly felt he was unbelievably unfamiliar.

Ethan seemed like he didn't want to get tangled up in this. He turned to David Whitney.