Chapter 1

On the night of the hotel’s grand opening, I stood in front of the century-old building I had painstakingly restored with my own hands, watching my husband engrave the name that belonged to me onto his ex’s bronze plaque.

The champagne tower caught the light of the grand hall.

Guests held up their phones, waiting for Marcus to unveil the red velvet cloth.

Three years ago, this hotel was nothing more than a collapsing skeleton: a leaking roof, peeling walls, and arched windows boarded shut.

I was the one who drew every blueprint and spent endless days on the construction site, bringing it back to life.

I could still point out the exact position of every reinforced steel beam beneath the lobby tiles.

Marcus glanced at me with a calm, gentle smile, looking entirely in control of the evening.

"Thank you all for attending the rebirth of Vale House," he said into the microphone, his voice echoing through the hall. "To make tonight possible, we owe everything to one person who truly saw its soul."

I tightened my grip on the side of my dress.

Those were the exact words he had said to me three days ago.

Back then, he had held me in this very hall, pointed at the unlit chandelier, and smiled. "On opening night, I’m going to let everyone know you’re the one who saved this place."

The red velvet cloth dropped.

The bronze plaque gleamed cold under the lights.

Lead Architect: Vivienne Cross.

I stared at those words, my mind going completely blank for a few seconds.

The applause broke out first.

Then, standing beside Marcus, Vivienne Cross softly covered her mouth, looking moved by the surprise.

She wore an ivory gown, her diamond earrings sparkling under the lights.

That dress was originally the one I had chosen for tonight.

Later, Marcus had told me she needed a "more camera-ready dress" as the brand consultant, asking me not to make a fuss over a piece of clothing.

I had agreed back then.

Now, she stood in my hotel, wearing my dress, taking my applause.

"Vivienne, come here," Marcus said, extending his hand to her.

As she walked up to the stage, she passed by me and whispered, "Naomi, I know you’ll understand. He just wanted to make this launch complete."

She spoke softly, almost apologetically.

Yet she didn't slow her pace, nor did she refuse the bouquet of white roses handed to her.

Marcus embraced her.

Cameras flashed continuously.

I stood rooted to the spot, suddenly remembering the first set of blueprints from three years ago.

The west wing was the hardest part to restore, and the construction team had insisted on tearing it down.

I climbed the scaffolding in the rain, staring at those boarded-up arched windows for two full hours, insisting on preserving them.

Marcus brought me hot coffee that night and said that one day, I would make everyone see how stubborn I was—and how much more I deserved to be recognized than anyone else.

It turned out he had known all along how to keep me quiet: praise me first, then take away what belonged to me.

Once the ceremony ended, I cut through the crowded room into the back service hallway.

Marcus followed me in shortly after, pulling the door shut behind him.

When the lock clicked shut, I understood he hadn’t followed me in to explain the plaque.

He had come to see whether I would do what I always had—swallow the humiliation and make it easier for him.