Chapter 1

When my fiancé, Brixton Flores, hit rock bottom, I coldly walked away from him.

Later, he took over the underworld and became the mafia boss, then forced me into marriage and kept me prisoner in his estate.

The whole city gossiped that I was the love he never forgot, the wife he cherished most.

But the truth was, he brought home a different socialite girl every night, making sure I felt utterly worthless.

At first, I was hurt, but once I started plotting my fake death, nothing fazed me anymore.

In the end, Brixton was the one who was pushed to the edge by my indifference. He muttered under his breath, "Aren't you a little angry?"

I smiled at him, calm as ever.

Later, when news spread that I'd been lost to the sea, he was shattered, drowning in regret.

But what he didn't know was that while he was begging for forgiveness at my grave, I was living it up at parties halfway across the world.

It wasn't until a storm destroyed the family cemetery that Brixton pried open my coffin and found it empty.

He went absolutely berserk, calling in every informant he had around the globe, turning the world upside down to hunt me down.

*****

By the second year of my imprisonment in the estate, a woman named Diana Eaton appeared by Brixton's side.

She was sweet and mischievous, like a little devil with horns. Every gesture of hers oozed irresistible danger and charm.

Brixton was totally smitten, and almost every night he brought her home.

He gave her special privileges, letting her stay in the estate's master guest room and roam wherever she wanted.

No woman had ever gotten this kind of treatment since we got married.

The servants gossiped behind my back, saying I'd be kicked out soon and the estate would have a new mistress.

I couldn't help but agree with them.

Once Diana moved in, it was like she completely took my place.

She claimed my Steinway Grand Piano for herself and swapped out the white roses I'd planted in the garden for her beloved red camellias.

She was erasing every trace of me in this house, painting it with her own style bit by bit.

Brixton watched everything unfold, but he never stepped in.

I had a feeling that this time, Brixton was actually catching real feelings for a girl.

But his so-called love was worthless to me. It was like a cheap Ravenport street cigar. No matter whom he gave it to, it wouldn't stir me in the slightest.

I just wanted him to get his revenge over with and let me go as soon as possible.

That weekend, the estate hosted a lavish family dinner.

The place was buzzing with glamorous guests, and whether it was bad luck or someone set me up, I had a nasty allergic reaction to the flowers.

Fighting the discomfort, I half-blindly stumbled back to my bedroom on the second floor, desperate to grab my meds.

But when I opened the drawer, I found it empty.

I grabbed a passing maid and demanded, "Who took away my medicine?"

She stammered, "Only Ms. Eaton went into your room this afternoon."

Perfect. Diana, again.

Struggling to breathe as my throat tightened, I turned and headed downstairs to find her.

In the hall on the first floor, Diana was holding a glass of champagne, laughing and chatting with a few of the other mafia wives.

"Brixton's wife? Oh, please. She's just some bankrupt rich girl."

"She dumped Brixton when he was at his lowest. He only married her because of some Ravenport macho thing and threw her a bone. Love? That's a joke."

"Seriously, I feel bad for Brixton. He has to be stuck with a woman who's old and no fun at all. If I'd shown up sooner, he would've made me the lady of the house."

I stood nearby, catching every word of their gossip.

I couldn't help but let a cold, mocking smile curl at my lips.

These clueless idiots really thought I was dying to be Brixton's wife.

If only they knew that Brixton was the one who kept me locked up in this gilded cage, acting like some deranged psycho, never letting me go.

My allergy was getting worse and worse.

I was struggling to breathe, my chest tightening with painful spasms.

Having no time for manners, I pushed my way through the crowd, marched right up to Diana, and knocked her to the floor.

The sudden commotion made everyone turn and stare.

"Oh my God, look at her. She's acting like some crazy hag who busted out of the psych ward."

"That madwoman doesn't have an ounce of what Brixton's wife should have."

The mafia wives, all dolled up, started chiming in, whispering and pointing at me.

But I tuned them out, fixing Diana with a cold stare. "Where did you put my medicine?"

Diana blinked, feigning innocence. "Medicine? I have no clue what you're talking about."

I was sick of her phony act. I wasn't in the mood for her nonsense. "Stop pretending. The maid said you were the only one in my room. Nobody else would touch my meds."

Diana shrugged, still playing not knowing. "Oh, darling, I really have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe I went in to check out your books? But who'd care about your medicine?"

She was clearly provoking me, acting like she knew I couldn't do a thing to her.

I was already feeling miserable, and her attitude sent my anger straight to my head, my temples throbbing.

I closed the distance, warning her, "Diana, don't push your luck. Know your place. You're just Brixton's mistress. You've got no business messing with my stuff."

The word "mistress" jabbed Diana like a needle, hitting a nerve.

Her face twisted with humiliation and rage as she shot back, "Mistress? Please. I met Brixton after you did. God knows I'm the one he truly loves. If he weren't such a man of duty, he never would've married someone like you."

So noisy. Diana was so damn noisy.

The lack of oxygen made me dizzy and unsteady, and my emotions started to unravel.

Diana's endless chatter was driving me insane. My patience finally snapped. I grabbed a bottle of Royal Reserve Cognac from the table and hurled it at her.

She let out a blood-curdling scream as the bottle smashed right against her temple.

The whole place erupted into chaos.

Brixton, who'd been mingling in the front hall, heard the chaos and marched in with his bodyguards.

When he saw the scene, he grabbed my wrist and roared, "Cattleya, what are you doing? Are you crazy?"