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.

I sped down the highway in the Lamborghini Maxwell had gifted me, easily shaking off Vivienne’s spies. Don’t get it wrong, I might be an amateur, but I’m a top-tier amateur racer—those pathetic tracking skills don’t even come close to catching me. Vivienne clearly underestimated me if she thought her lackeys could keep up.

After completely losing Vivienne’s tails, I headed straight to Beth’s studio. Since her release from prison, the corporate world had blacklisted her, unwilling to take back someone with a criminal record, even though she was innocent. Instead of trying to regain her old status, Beth went in the opposite direction, setting up her own business—a studio specializing in online work where she didn’t have to show her face.

When I arrived, Beth was in the middle of a meeting, coaching a group of live-streamers on how to boost their sales. As soon as she spotted me, she broke away from the session and took me into her private office. I quickly gave her a rundown of my progress, sharing a copy of the recording I’d made of my conversation with Vivienne.

Beth didn’t hide her admiration for me, grabbing my hand with excitement. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about you! You’re smarter than most people I’ve ever met!”

I smiled, accepting Beth’s compliment with ease.

“Same to you,” I replied, giving her the recognition she deserved. She nodded with a grin, graciously accepting the return praise.

Then, I borrowed Beth’s computer and created an account on the studio’s author platform. I began posting my story—everything from my first meeting with the Ashford Family to how they framed me and how I ended up marrying Maxwell—disguising it as a novel. It was risky, but I knew that this would be the first step in my long game.

Beth worked quickly, leveraging her influence in the online world to ensure all the top recommendations and promotions were in place. It didn’t take long for my story to start gaining traction, its real-life inspiration resonating with readers who had no idea it was more than fiction.

As I was leaving, Beth couldn’t resist commenting, “I’ve seen ruthless people, but I’ve never seen someone ruthless enough to lay bare their own bloody wounds for the public to see.”

I understood the deeper meaning behind her words. This wasn’t just about revenge—it was about exposing myself, becoming vulnerable, in order to trap the Ashfords in their own web. The Ashford Family is a top player in the business world, with deep connections in both political and financial circles. Even with all the evidence I had, taking them to court would be a losing battle. They could use their influence to crush me long before I ever saw justice.

But this is the age of the internet. No individual or organization can withstand the relentless pressure of public opinion. With enough voices, even a giant like the Ashford Family could be toppled. So I crafted a persona that appeared greedy and power-hungry, deliberately putting myself out there, exposing myself to the enemy, making them think I was reckless and vulnerable.

I had to keep blackmailing and extorting the Ashfords, pushing them into making mistake after mistake, until the weight of public opinion crushes them and the truth finally comes to light, proving my innocence.

That’s how I’d win, fair and square.

***

Vivienne, with her vast experience in the business world, managed to accomplish in a single day what I had anticipated would take three. I stared at Vivienne’s post on social media, my expression one of disdain and disbelief. The post was dripping with mockery and it was clear that her PR team had executed their strategy flawlessly. With just a few carefully chosen words, they had managed to redirect the public’s focus squarely onto me.

Before long, the hashtag “Nichole Brennan, the Ashford’s criminal daughter-in-law” was trending and every detail of my past was being dragged into the spotlight and scrutinized relentlessly. It was evident that this hot search wasn’t going to fade away any time soon, especially with Vivienne working tirelessly behind the scenes to stoke the flames.

However, I wasn’t particularly concerned. I had financial resources, shares in the company and a growing fame that would help me weather this temporary storm of public scrutiny. In fact, Vivienne’s calculated move ended up backfiring in an unexpected way. Thanks to her maneuver, my novel, which had been languishing in obscurity, suddenly found itself thrust into the spotlight and climbed onto the trending charts.

A segment of readers began to emerge, vocally supporting me and asserting that I had been wronged. Although the support was not overwhelming, it was sufficient for the time being. By this stage, Maxwell and Lydia had probably commenced their so-called "training" at the lower echelons of the company, a consequence of their earlier actions. As a shareholder in the group, I felt it was only fitting to make a visit to my dear husband and my sister-in-law, if only to observe their progress and perhaps offer a bit of my own brand of encouragement.