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.

As expected, Vivienne took the initiative to ask for a private chat. I followed her into the study, a room known for its excellent soundproofing—perfect for ensuring no eavesdropper would catch a word of our conversation. Without bothering to pretend in front of Vivienne, I strode confidently to the main chair and sat down. The weight of my gesture was clear.

Vivienne’s lips curled in disdain, her eyes glinting with cold amusement. “Sitting there will shorten your life. Aren’t you afraid?”

I leaned back, completely at ease, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, my dear sister-in-law, but I am now part of the Ashford Family. Doesn’t that grant me the right to sit here, just like you did?”

Her face darkened, the smug arrogance slipping into something colder, but she held her composure. “You do realize I’m still in charge of the Ashford Family, don’t you?” Her tone was laced with warning, but I could sense the underlying tension.

I chuckled softly, mockingly and pulled out a recording device. Tossing it onto the table, I pressed play. The room filled with Lydia’s and my conversation from the other day. As the damning words replayed, I watched Vivienne’s face harden, the mask of control cracking ever so slightly.

When the recording finished, I spoke first, breaking the silence. “You probably think this is just a cheesy little trick—something insignificant, beneath you. But why waste time on trivialities?” I smirked. “Let’s move on to something more exciting.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick document, tossing it onto the table with deliberate ease. It was evidence—carefully gathered by Beth—of Vivienne’s embezzlement of company funds. If the recording rattled her, this would do much worse.

Vivienne’s eyes darted to the papers, a flicker of unease flashing across her composed exterior. But she was a seasoned businesswoman, hardened by years of high-stakes negotiations. She didn’t allow too many cracks to show, leaving no obvious vulnerabilities for me to exploit. Her response was measured, calculated. She started negotiating. And that’s exactly what I wanted.

I pulled out another document, this time outlining what I wanted. I wanted to see the Ashford sisters turn on each other, to betray one another. I wanted the Ashford Corp to fall into my hands and the Ashford Family torn apart. I wanted the truth to come to light, for justice to prevail over evil.

Of course, I wouldn’t write this all out so plainly in the document. All I wrote was that I wanted Vivienne to kick Lydia out of the Ashford Family.

I wanted 8% of the company’s shares.

I wanted Maxwell to hit rock bottom, to do the hardest, dirtiest work.

I wanted Vivienne, as the head of the Ashford Family, to publicly acknowledge me as the future lady of the house, openly validating the rumors the paparazzi had spread when they snapped photos of me leaving prison.

Vivienne considered it for a moment and had no choice but to agree to my demands.

My plan was in motion.

***

When Vivienne and I returned to the living room, Lydia was lounging smugly on the couch, her arms crossed as if she had already won some invisible battle. I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of pity, contempt and disdain for her. Poor Lydia—she had no idea what was about to happen. She would never have imagined that her own sister, Vivienne, would order her to pack her bags and leave the house.

Vivienne, always the more strategic one, initially tried to coax Lydia with soft words, her voice soothing as she said, “It’s best for everyone if you go back to the city house for now. Let’s avoid unnecessary conflicts.” But, as expected, Lydia, with her usual foolishness, stubbornly refused. She puffed out her chest and raised her chin, making it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

Vivienne’s expression shifted from patience to ice in an instant. Without warning, she slapped Lydia hard across the face, the sharp sound of the impact echoing through the room. Lydia’s hand flew to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

“This is your brother and sister-in-law’s house, not yours. Can’t you be a bit more sensible?” Vivienne snapped, her tone filled with irritation and authority.

Maxwell, who had just come downstairs from his bath, stood frozen at the bottom step, his hair still damp. He looked from Lydia to Vivienne, utterly dumbfounded, clearly afraid to say anything that might upset Vivienne. He was, after all, used to following her lead in family matters.

I stood off to the side, thoroughly enjoying the unfolding drama. If I had popcorn, I would’ve gladly munched on it. I’d give the scene a thumbs-up for sure—Vivienne scolding Lydia like a misbehaving child was highly entertaining.

Lydia, of course, couldn’t handle the humiliation. Throwing a tantrum like a petulant child, she shrieked, “Fine, I’ll leave!” before storming off in tears, her footsteps heavy with frustration.

Vivienne, satisfied with Lydia’s departure, didn’t stay much longer either. Before leaving, she turned to me with a pointed look and reminded me of the promises we had discussed during our private conversation. I smiled politely, knowing full well that I had no intention of keeping any of those promises.

After both Lydia and Vivienne had left, Maxwell kept pestering me, asking what Vivienne had said during our chat. His curiosity was palpable, but I was in no mood to entertain his questions. Casually brushing him off, I told him my period had started and that I needed to sleep early.

Once I returned to the bedroom, I locked the door behind me, threw on a face mask and sprawled out on the bed. I started playing mobile games, deliberately ignoring Maxwell’s persistent knocking on the other side of the door. His pleading voice was muffled and I grinned to myself, enjoying his frustration.

The next morning, when I finally opened the door, I feigned ignorance. “Oh, I didn’t hear you knocking. I must’ve fallen asleep early.” Maxwell looked at me with clear frustration, but he had no valid reason to lash out, so he could only sulk in silence.

With my objectives for returning to the Ashford estate achieved, I wasted no time. As soon as Maxwell left for work, I packed my bags.