The day I was released from prison, ten wedding cars arrived at the prison gate to pick me up. The first snow of winter came right on time, as if it were part of the dowry.

A handsome man stepped out of one of the cars, pulling out a large diamond ring. He knelt on one knee at my feet, “Welcome home, Nichole Brennan.”

I stretched out my dirty hand. A flash of disgust crossed his face, but he still kissed my hand and, with a forced smile, slid the diamond ring onto my finger.

Ten meters away, paparazzi and Lydia Ashford’s spies snapped away furiously, their faces lighting up like they'd struck gold.

I sneered, wiping my nose deliberately with my hand and took Maxwell’s hand to get into the car. My time to revenge was coming.

——

Sitting in Maxwell’s Maybach, I changed into a wedding dress. When we arrived at the Ashford’s mansion, their servants lined up in two rows, respectfully calling out, “Welcome home, Mrs. Ashford!”

I stepped over the fire pot and entered the Ashford estate.

As expected, I saw Lydia, the one who framed me for theft and sent me to prison.

Lydia stood with her arms crossed, her eyes burning with contempt as she glared at me from across the room. She mouthed the word "bitch," her lips curling into a sneer, as if she believed her hatred could cut me down where I stood.

But instead of recoiling, I walked towards her with deliberate, slow steps, my smile growing wider with each one. The air between us felt heavy with tension, like a storm about to break. I leaned in close, my breath brushing against her ear as I whispered, my voice dripping with mock sympathy, “How does it feel, Lydia? Watching your dear brother marry me? Angry, aren’t you?”

Lydia's face flushed red with humiliation and fury. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape and I could see the wheels turning in her head. Desperate as ever, she planned her next move, ready to pretend to stumble and fall, hoping to frame me again in front of the gathering crowd. But I saw it coming from a mile away.

Before she could act, I let myself drop to the floor with a dramatic thud. The room seemed to freeze for a moment, as everyone turned to look. I clutched my arm as if in pain, my voice breaking as I called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Why, Lydia? Why would you do this to me?” My wide eyes brimmed with tears, my face the perfect picture of disbelief. “Oh, I know what it is.” I paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat. “It's because I’ve been in prison, isn’t it? You despise me for it.”

I looked around, catching the eyes of those watching and then back at Lydia, who was frozen in place, her expression a mixture of anger and panic.

“You’re ashamed, aren’t you? Ashamed to have an ex-prisoner as your sister-in-law. I should’ve known... I don’t deserve to marry into the Ashton Family.” My voice cracked, as I choked back a sob.

“Fine, I’ll walk away,” I muttered, struggling to get to my feet, wiping away the crocodile tears streaming down my face.

Just as expected, Maxwell was at my side in an instant, his hand gently catching my arm, stopping me in my tracks. He wiped the tears from my cheeks, his touch soft, but his voice firm. “Don’t leave,” he said, turning his attention to Lydia with cold eyes.

Lydia’s fury exploded. She lunged toward us, trying to pry Maxwell away from me, her fingers clawing at his sleeve in desperation. “Maxwell, no! She’s manipulating you!” she screamed, her voice shrill with frustration. But before she could do anything more, Maxwell’s face twisted with anger.

In one swift motion, he raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the room, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. Lydia staggered back, holding her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she glared at me with a mixture of fury and betrayal.

“You hit me... for this bitch?” she spat, her voice breaking as she pointed at me, her body trembling with rage and humiliation. Maxwell’s gaze turned ice-cold, his expression hardening as he stepped toward her, his presence towering and imposing.

“Lydia,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “have you lost your mind? Where are your manners? How dare you act like this?” His tone was cutting, leaving no room for argument. “If you ever pull something like this again, I’ll throw you out of this house myself!” He took a breath, his anger palpable. “Now, apologize to Nichole.”

Lydia’s eyes flashed with defiance as she glared at me, her teeth clenched in frustration. She attempted to storm out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor as she turned to make her exit. But just as she reached the door, two bodyguards moved swiftly, blocking her path, their broad shoulders standing like immovable walls.

Maxwell’s voice rang out again, even colder than before. “You’re not going anywhere until you apologize.”

A tense silence fell over the room, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Lydia stood frozen, her breath coming in short, angry bursts as she stared at the guards in front of her, realizing there was no escape. After what felt like an eternity, she finally turned back to face me, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Her lips curled in barely contained fury as she gritted her teeth and forced out the words, “I’m sorry, Nichole.”

I smiled sweetly, the very picture of grace and understanding, stepping forward to close the distance between us. Gently, I reached out and touched her swollen cheek, the spot where Maxwell’s slap had left its mark. “It’s alright, Lydia,” I said softly, my voice dripping with false sympathy. “We’re in-laws now. We have plenty of time to get along.”

The rage burning behind her eyes was unmistakable, but there was nothing she could do. Maxwell stood by, watching her, his patience thin, his loyalty to me solidified in that moment.

As Lydia stood there, furious and helpless, the sight filled me with a deep, dark satisfaction. This was just the beginning. Watching her forced to swallow her pride, knowing that I had her exactly where I wanted her, brought me immense pleasure. But deep inside, I knew this was far from enough. Apologies and slaps were nothing compared to what I truly wanted.

No, I wanted her—and everyone else who had ever wronged me—to pay. To suffer. To lose everything. And I wouldn’t stop until every single one of them got exactly what they deserved.

Later that evening, I made my way to Maxwell’s study. The room was dimly lit, with bookshelves lining the walls and the heavy scent of leather and wood filled the air. I sat across from him, the weight of everything that had transpired between us pressing down like a stone in my chest. The silence between us was thick and uncomfortable, but I remained composed, my posture straight and calm despite the storm brewing inside me.

Maxwell slid a document across the table toward me—the prenuptial agreement. The sound of the paper scraping against the polished mahogany echoed in the stillness of the room. I stared at the contract without touching it, my eyes narrowing as memories I had fought to bury began to claw their way back to the surface.

The weight of my past hung heavily on my shoulders. My fingers twitched slightly as I clenched my hands in my lap, my mind racing back to the beginning of my downfall. A year ago, I had been on top of the world—an academic star, celebrated for my achievements and granted a prestigious scholarship to study abroad. It was supposed to be my golden opportunity, a chance to escape the shadows of my past and secure a bright future for myself.

That’s when I met Maxwell and Lydia. I hadn’t known then the nightmare that would follow. Maxwell, charming and attentive, had gradually fallen for me. His affection had seemed genuine at first, but it hadn’t taken long for Lydia to catch on. Her obsession with her brother had always been unhealthy, her attachment bordering on possessive and my presence in his life had ignited a jealousy in her that quickly spiraled out of control.

Lydia's hatred festered, dark and venomous. She couldn’t stand the thought of Maxwell loving anyone but her. And so, she turned to the one person as twisted as she was—Vivienne, their older sister. Together, they had crafted a plan, framing me for theft, ensuring my swift and brutal downfall.

I still remember the day of my trial. The way the world had turned against me, how quickly people believed their lies. I had been convicted, sentenced to five years in prison, my bright future snuffed out in an instant. When I first entered that cold, unforgiving place, I was utterly alone, abandoned by everyone I had once known. The whispers of betrayal followed me wherever I went and the stares from the other inmates cut deeper than any knife.

The humiliation of that time still burned in my veins. I wore the prison uniform like a badge of shame, shackled and disheveled, stripped of my dignity. There were nights when my anger was the only thing that kept me warm, nights when I would lie awake in my cold cell, dreaming of revenge. I wanted to tear apart every single member of the Ashford Family who had wronged me, to make them pay for what they had done.

But amid that fury, there was only one person who visited me—Maxwell. Week after week, he came, sitting across from me on the other side of the glass, his eyes full of regret and sorrow. It was during one of those visits that he made me a promise.

“Nichole,” he had said, his voice soft, his gaze steady, “if you agree to marry me, I can get you out of here.”

How ridiculous!

This man, who claimed to love me, stood by as his sisters framed me, sending me to prison. The only defense he ever offered was a weak, “I believe you.” Pathetic. Maxwell wasn’t a hero—he was an opportunist, terrified of the scandal that might drag him down. He knew the truth, just like those who had framed me.

In the end, I compromised. Somehow, he managed to get my five-year sentence reduced to one. The only condition I set was we wouldn’t consummate the marriage for the first three months.

Maxwell urged me impatiently, clearly eager to finalize things. I took the contract, flipping through its pages with deliberate slowness, before finally signing my name. His face brightened immediately and he suggested we head to City Hall to register our marriage. But as he turned away, I discreetly sent a message to Lydia, setting the next phase of my plan in motion.

After our rushed wedding, I moved back into my small apartment, just as I had planned. I invited Maxwell over, crafting the perfect intimate atmosphere to lure him in. As expected, it didn’t take long before he tried to get closer, unable to resist the mood I’d created. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I stood on tiptoe, gently nibbling at his collarbone, his breathing growing heavier with each touch.

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering echoed from the bedroom. My smile widened slightly.

Maxwell pulled back, alarmed and glanced toward the source of the noise. “What was that?” he asked, wariness creeping into his voice.

I kissed his cheek and replied coyly, “Probably just the wind. What do you think you’ll find in a woman’s apartment that’s been empty for a year?” Then, with a teasing glint in my eye, I reminded him, “Besides, you remember my one condition, don’t you?”

He seemed taken aback by my sudden forwardness, lifting me playfully in his arms and spinning me around. But as he did, I noticed the bedroom door creak open just enough to reveal the top of Lydia’s head, peeking out from the shadows. I played my part a little longer, keeping Maxwell distracted with light touches and playful teasing, until he finally left the apartment.

The moment the door clicked shut, Lydia stormed out of the bedroom, her face twisted with rage.

“You slut!” she spat. “Did you bring me here just to watch you flirt with my brother?”

Without missing a beat, I slapped her down onto the sofa. The sound of the impact was sharp and a deep satisfaction bloomed within me as I saw both sides of her face swell up, perfectly symmetrical.

Lydia’s eyes blazed with fury as she glared at me, still trying to threaten her way out of the situation. “How dare you hit me, Nichole? Who do you think you are? Believe me, I’ll—”

Before she could finish, I slapped her again. One slap may not make much of a sound, but two? That should be loud enough for everyone to hear.

Lydia held her face, shaking, but her defiance hadn’t faded. Her eyes burned with silent rage as she glowered at me.

“You’ll what?” I sneered, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her to look at me. “Frame me again? Send me to prison like last time?” My voice dripped with venom as I leaned in closer. “I’ve never forgotten what you and Vivienne did. Every single day in that disgusting cell, I thought of you.”

Lydia laughed, a smug, twisted smile spreading across her lips. “Good,” she said mockingly. “I got you thrown in there once and I’ll do it again. This time, I won’t let you off. Even if you beg.”

I released her, watching her scramble to her feet, thinking she had the upper hand. But as she fled the apartment, I pulled out the recording device I had hidden in my pocket and smirked. The entire exchange had been captured perfectly. I sent the recording to Beth immediately.

Beth Roberts, a brilliant lawyer and hacker I met in prison, had been framed herself. After hearing my story, she’d agreed to help me, driven by a shared goal: to destroy the Ashford Family, piece by piece.

A few days later, I requested to move into the Ashford villa and Maxwell agreed without hesitation—this man was driven by lust. When I moved in, Lydia was so furious that she rushed back to the Ashford estate, bringing along Vivienne, who rarely showed her face.

Lydia and Vivienne claimed they missed home and insisted on staying at the villa. Maxwell was caught in a dilemma. He could assert his authority over Lydia, but not with Vivienne. Although Maxwell was the only male heir, Vivienne was still in charge of the Ashford Family until Maxwell fully took over the company. One word from Vivienne and the Ashford Corp would either accept or reject Maxwell.

I gave Maxwell a knowing look, signaling that I didn’t mind. He praised me for being so understanding.

But little did Lydia and Vivienne know, Maxwell’s and my actions were a constant thorn in their sides. Leaning into Maxwell’s arms, I gave Lydia and Vivienne a smug smile. When Maxwell let go, I returned to my humble and obedient demeanor.

Vivienne was clearly the sharper of the two. She quickly calmed Lydia down, speaking directly but politely to Maxwell, giving him both face and a subtle warning. A cunning woman indeed. Too bad she crossed paths with me.