Chapter 1

The red line on my screen spiked, and three million people watched with me as my ex-husband's heart rate jumped from 72 to 98 beats per minute.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I purred into the camera, tapping my manicured nail against the glass desk, "it seems Mr. Sterling is either running up stairs... or lying to someone right now."

The chat exploded with reactions, emojis raining across my monitor like digital confetti.

*HeartHunter92: OMG ISABELLA YOU'RE SAVAGE*

*TechQueen: How is this even legal??*

*DivorcedAndThriving: Get him, girl!*

I smiled, cold and precise. "The 'Ex-Husband Emotion Monitoring' app doesn't lie, unlike some people we know." I adjusted my silk blouse and leaned closer to the camera. "For those just joining us, welcome to today's stream. Three years ago, Nathan Sterling threw away our marriage while I was losing our child. Today, we get to watch his heart betray him, just like he betrayed me."

The app had started as a private project—a way to channel my rage into code rather than letting it consume me. I never expected it to become a viral sensation, with millions tuning in daily to watch the real-time cardiac readings of Seattle's most notorious cheating ex-husband. The irony wasn't lost on me: the heart monitor I'd once watched in the hospital as our baby's pulse faded was now repurposed as my weapon.

"Ms. Chen," Maya's voice came through my earpiece, low and urgent. "Someone's here to see you. In the lobby."

I maintained my smile for the camera, not missing a beat. "Who?"

"Leo Vance. Nathan's assistant. He has... a package."

My fingers froze mid-tap on the desk. Nathan hadn't attempted direct contact in three years. Not since I'd thrown the divorce papers at him across the hospital parking lot, my body still aching from the miscarriage, my heart shattered by the photos of him with Victoria on his phone.

"Send him up," I said, my voice steady despite the sudden tightness in my chest. "Actually, no. Bring him in here."

"On camera?" Maya sounded surprised.

"Absolutely." I turned back to my audience with a predatory smile. "It seems we have an unexpected plot twist today, viewers. Mr. Sterling has sent an emissary."

The chat went wild with speculation. I watched the numbers climb as word spread—we were approaching four million live viewers. The red line of Nathan's heart rate had settled back to normal. He didn't know what was coming.

The door opened, and Maya ushered in Leo Vance, Nathan's impeccably dressed personal assistant. He carried a distinctive Prada gift bag, his expression professionally neutral despite the wall of cameras facing him.

"Ms. Chen," he nodded respectfully. "Mr. Sterling asked me to deliver this to you personally."

I gestured to the empty chair across from me. "Please, have a seat. Four million people are very curious about what's in that bag."

Leo hesitated, glancing at the cameras before sitting down stiffly. He placed the bag on my desk with careful precision.

"Mr. Sterling hopes you'll accept this token of his... regret."

I reached for the bag, maintaining eye contact with the camera as I extracted a small velvet box and an envelope. The box opened with a soft click to reveal a diamond ring that caught the studio lights and fractured them into a thousand glittering points.

"A million-dollar apology," I said flatly, holding it up for the camera. "How original."

I tore open the envelope next, extracting a handwritten letter. Nathan's familiar handwriting sent an unwelcome jolt through me. I scanned the first line—*Isabella, I know you hate me, but please...*—before looking back at the camera.

"One moment, please."

I reached into my desk drawer and removed two laminated documents. I held them up one by one.

"This is my miscarriage medical report from three years ago," I said, my voice like ice. "And this is our divorce decree, finalized twenty-seven days later."

I placed the ring atop the documents and looked directly into the camera.

"Tell Nathan our past is dead and buried. Just like what was between us."

I ended the stream with a single tap, the diamond's cold fire still burning in my vision long after the cameras stopped rolling.