My husband, Alastair Blackwood, chose his mistress over his parents as they lay dying from a helicopter crash.

I let him. I handled the crisis at the hospital alone.

In my past life, I had forced him to be by his parents' side, but his mistress, Blaire, died in an accident as a result.

Although his parents survived, a year later, during the late stages of my pregnancy, Alastair locked me in a burning studio to avenge his lover, killing both me and our unborn child.

This time, I let him choose.

By the time he saw the frantic messages from the hospital on his silenced phone, it was too late. He shattered.

He seemed to age ten years overnight.

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1

The emergency call from a top specialist at New York-Presbyterian Hospital came while my husband's mistress, Blaire Donovan, was lounging in the living room of our Manhattan penthouse.

"Mrs. Blackwood, your in-laws were in a helicopter crash on their way to the Hamptons," a voice said, laced with urgency.

"They're in critical condition and need to be transferred for an experimental neurosurgery. It's an emergency procedure, and it will cost five million dollars."

Remembering my past life, I slammed the speakerphone button, making sure my husband, Alastair Blackwood, heard every word.

I turned to him. His handsome face was etched with skepticism.

He scoffed. "Oprah," he sneered, "last month you were threatening to ruin me. Is this your new tactic? Making up a story about my parents just to get Blaire out of here?"

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just stated the facts, my voice flat and emotionless.

"This isn't a joke. They're in trouble, and we need five million dollars to save them. We need to access the family trust fund now."

His icy gaze pierced through me. "This pathetic act doesn't change who you are. Are you trying to trick me out of my money now, too?"

We had known each other for ten years. I had taken the fall for a career-ending financial scandal for him, and this marriage of convenience was my reward.

Alastair came from a Wall Street financial dynasty. I was a self-made architect. He never saw me as his equal. It was an open secret that he was infatuated with the lifestyle influencer Blaire Donovan.

When we got married, I told him he could go to Blaire whenever he wanted. I had no intention of chaining myself to his handsome face and endless fortune.

He just pushed me against the wall, kissed me hard, his voice a low growl. "Shut up, Oprah. You just need to be Mrs. Blackwood. That's enough."

After we married, a wall of ice grew between us.

It wasn't until Blaire returned and I saw the fire in his eyes as he gazed at her that I finally understood. There was no room for me in his heart, not even the smallest part.

My gaze went cold, my disappointment total. "I'm not lying, and I'm not playing games."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"Believe it or not. Your parents are in real trouble. If you have a shred of humanity, use your resources. If not, get out of my way while I handle this."

He froze, probably because he'd never seen me so forceful.

I turned to leave, bumping Blaire, who was blocking my path. She let out an exaggerated scream and collapsed onto the sofa.

"My… my asthma!" she gasped, clutching her chest as tears welled up as if on cue. She looked so fragile, so pitiful.

"Alastair, don't blame Oprah," she sobbed. "She didn't mean to."

Alastair's face darkened instantly. He rushed over and swept her into his arms.

She winced in pain, leaning weakly against him. Only then did I notice a fresh scratch on the back of my own hand.

He roared at me, his voice trembling with rage. "You dare touch her again! If anything happens to Blaire, I'll make you pay!"

He carried Blaire and stormed out of the apartment.

I was left alone in the vast, empty penthouse, a hollow ache where my heart used to be.

The hospital just needed the money; they didn't care who paid for it. I called my lawyer, then got ready to head to the bank.

Before I could leave, my phone rang. It was Alastair's cousin, FBI agent Nolan Hayes.

"Well, hello, Oprah," Nolan's voice dripped with condescension. "What's the scheme this time? Trying to get Alastair's attention again?"

The Blackwood family had never respected me.

Only his parents had ever been genuinely kind to me. I had to save them.

I swallowed my anger. "You're an FBI agent, Nolan," I said, my voice dangerously low. "You can either use your resources to verify what I'm saying, or I'll be filing a formal complaint against you with the OPR for obstruction. Your call."

Nolan's playful tone vanished.

His voice exploded through the phone. "You think marrying a Blackwood makes you one of us? You're nothing but a gold-digger who blackmailed her way into this family! If Blaire hadn't gone abroad, Alastair wouldn't have given you a second glance."

I hung up without a word and immediately sent an email to the FBI's Office of Professional Responsibility.

At the bank, I tried to access our joint accounts.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Blackwood," the bank manager said apologetically. "Your black card has been canceled, and all joint accounts have been frozen by Mr. Alastair Blackwood, citing an internal family dispute."

Then my lawyer called. The family trust fund had also been temporarily frozen by a court order.

I took a deep breath and dialed my business partner.

"Mortgage my architectural firm and my entire personal real estate portfolio. I need three million dollars in cash, within the hour."

"On it, Oprah."

That still left a two-million-dollar shortfall. I called Alastair's uncle, Arthur Blackwood.

"Uncle Arthur, Alastair's parents have been in an accident. They need an emergency transfer, and I'm short two million dollars. Can you lend it to me? I'll pay you back as soon as the fund is unfrozen."

Arthur sounded shocked. "My brother's been in an accident? Does Alastair know?"

I sighed. "I told him, but he doesn't believe me. He's with Blaire at a private hospital right now. You're the only one who can help."

"You just wait there. I'll transfer it from my personal account right away!"

Just as Arthur hung up, the specialty hospital called back.

"Have the funds been arranged? We're running out of time."

My heart sank, but my voice was steady. "Almost. Just give me a little more time. You'll get every penny."

The doctor's voice was grave. "Mrs. Blackwood, I need to be blunt. The window for this procedure is closing. We have four hours. After that, it's too late."

I fought to keep my voice from trembling. "Give me one more hour! As long as my in-laws are still breathing, I swear I will get the money!"

As the words left my mouth, I heard the faint alarm of a monitor in the background.

The doctor's voice was cold and decisive. "If the payment doesn't arrive within four hours, we cannot proceed with this life-saving experimental treatment. We will be forced to provide only basic life support."

The bank's mortgage approval process was agonizingly slow.

A movement caught my eye. I turned to see Nolan standing just feet away, his face ashen. He had heard everything.

"Oprah, Alastair's parents... are they really in trouble? But Alastair said you were just getting back at him…"