Chapter 3

I stood and walked to the window. From this rundown studio apartment, all I could see was a thin sliver of sky and the peeling walls of the building across the alley.

For ten years, I had lived like I had nothing. Every choice, every sacrifice was designed to keep Charles and Sophie from suspecting a thing.

All of my assets, every move I made, were managed through offshore trusts and a team of private wealth managers working on my behalf.

In their eyes, I was still the same pitiful, cast-aside ex-wife, barely scraping by on whatever crumbs they tossed my way each year.

My phone rang again. This time, it was my personal assistant, Lindsay Carter, a top-tier strategist I had hired at a premium rate.

"Boss, everything went exactly as you predicted." Lindsay's voice was buzzing with excitement. "Stanton Holdings started its freefall at two this afternoon. The dominoes are falling, and within three days, the whole thing will collapse. Their stock will be worthless."

"Good work," I said, keeping my tone even.

"Boss, when do we move to the next phase?"

"No rush." I walked to the corner and picked up the fishing rod leaning against the wall. The grip was cool to the touch, the craftsmanship unmistakable. "Let it play out a little longer."

I hung up and started packing.

I didn't want to spend another day in this place.

Half an hour later, I stood outside the rental building with a suitcase in hand.

A black Bentley glided to the curb without a sound, and the driver stepped out to open my door. "Ms. Evans, back to Serenity Manor?"

"Yeah."

The car merged smoothly into traffic, and the city blurred past the window.

The skyscrapers and the glowing neon of designer boutiques had all seemed so impossibly out of reach once, but now they were just scenery.

The car left the noise of downtown behind and turned onto a long, tree-lined private road that grew quieter with every mile.

At the end of the drive, a pair of tall wrought-iron gates stood between stone pillars, each topped with a brass lantern. Above the entrance, the name Serenity Manor was set in polished bronze letters, custom-cast by one of the country's most celebrated typographers.

Ten years had passed, and this was the first time I set foot here as its owner.

The overgrown weeds were long gone, replaced by manicured lawns and elegant garden water features.

The crumbling house had been fully restored. Its classic facade remained intact, but the interior was equipped with the finest modern smart-home technology.

A team of butlers, gardeners, and nannies in matching uniforms stood waiting at the entrance.

"Welcome home, Ms. Evans." The head butler, James Walton, greeted me with a respectful bow.

I gave a nod and walked inside.

Past the corridor, my favorite apple tree was heavy with fruit, each one a deep, vivid red.

James followed close behind, his voice low as he delivered the update. "Ms. Evans, the survey team found something on that vacant lot out west, the one you acquired last year. Turns out there's a massive rare earth deposit sitting right underneath it.

"And that biotech company you invested in, the one that was about to go under? Their targeted therapy just cleared Phase III clinical trials. The patent's been approved, and several major pharmaceutical companies are already fighting to partner with us.

"Also—"

I raised a hand to cut him off. "Got it."

None of this was a surprise.

I was waiting for something else.

My phone rang right on cue. It was Lindsay.

She said, "Boss, Stanton Holdings just imploded. Every bank is pulling their credit lines, and the SEC has launched a formal investigation. Charles is gone. He ran."

I smiled, "Got it."

"One more thing," Lindsay said, her tone shifting to something between disbelief and amusement. "Sophie's lost it."

She sent me a video.

In it, Sophie sat on the ground outside Stanton Holdings' headquarters with her hair wild and tangled, still wearing some expensive designer gown.

She grabbed at every person who walked by like a woman possessed. "Where's my stock? Where's my money! Give me back my money!"

The beauty she had once been so proud of was gone. All that was left on her face was desperation and madness.

People gathered around her, whispering and pointing, while camera flashes went off one after another.

"Isn't that the actress Sophie? I heard she was Charles' mistress."

"Serves her right. She tried to sleep her way to the top, and now the man's gone and she's got nothing."

"Word is she put everything she had into his company. Every last cent, gone."

The video ended with security guards dragging her away while she screamed Charles' name until her voice cracked.

I closed the video, my expression blank.

Was she pitiful?

I found her laughable.

For the past ten years, every single thing she had "stolen" from me, she'd shown off for a while, then cashed it in and poured the money into the grand investment scheme Charles had painted for her.

She thought it was a golden road straight into high society.

She never realized it was a one-way street to hell.

And me? Every time she made her choice, I stayed quiet and picked up the option she had tossed aside.