Chapter 1

During my third year of marriage to Glenpoint's golden boy, Alexander Grant, my past resurfaced.

Andrew Lane, my former fiancé who'd abandoned me for a fraudulent heiress, dared to swagger back into my life.

"I'm here to marry you, Isabelle," he declared. "A grand wedding, but no legal paperwork."

A bitter laugh escaped me, born of pure fury.

He misinterpreted it entirely. "Hold your excitement," he said coldly. "Charlotte pulled me from that fire years ago. I owe her the Mrs. Lane title.

"You'll be the spare. And she's too delicate for childbirth, so you'll pop out two kids. She gets to choose which one she likes."

He frowned momentarily, then shrugged. "I'll be with you Mon, Wed, Fri. The rest is hers. She's younger than you. Show some respect and step aside."

I met his gaze, pulled out my phone, and with one call, bought the mall we were in.

"Security," I spoke into the receiver, my voice crisp, "remove this leukemia-faker from my premises."

Alexander was out of town on business today, and my little boy kept pestering me to take him out to play.

Who would've thought I'd run into such a piece of trash? What rotten luck.

People stared at us strangely, but Andrew didn't care at all. Instead, he just gave me a mocking grin.

"Isabelle, I know you're still hung up on me leaving you three years ago. If yelling at me helps you feel better, go ahead," Andrew teased.

The people nearby just thought we were having a lovers' quarrel and quickly moved on.

Seeing me stay silent, he pulled out a diamond ring, speaking in that familiar, patronizing way, like he was doing me a favor.

"This is a custom diamond ring from Valoise. The wedding's set for the best hotel in Southvale. Seven days from now, I'll swing by the Foster place to pick you up," he said.

Maybe it's all those years raising my son, but I'm more composed than ever. "Andrew, what makes you think I'd wait three years for you?" I asked, my voice steady.

His smile froze for a split second. "Alright, I know you're upset," he started.

"Upset?" I cut him off, taking a step back. "Why would I be upset? Over a man who chased after another woman abroad on our wedding day, leaving me to be laughed at by our guests and humiliated by my own family?"

Andrew's smile had that patronizing edge, like I was the one making a scene. "I had my reasons back then. It was about Charlotte."

"She made a bet, didn't she? To see if you'd go to the craziest lengths for her?" I shot back.

I looked up, meeting his eyes as they suddenly narrowed. "She wanted you to be blindfolded, wandering the slums in the dead of night... acting out some twisted cosplay fantasy."

His face drained of color, and I let out a mocking laugh.

"Did you really think the person with you all night was just one of Charlotte's props, or some character she was cosplaying?" I sneered.

"Andrew, you really ought to go back and check how many homeless people were hanging around that night," I said.

"Charlotte probably forgot to mention she took a whole stash of private photos for her so-called performance art," I added.

Andrew frowned, then gave me that patronizing look like he had me all figured out. "Isabelle, I know you're just jealous. Whatever she gets, you'll have every bit of it too."

A wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I motioned to the security guard who'd been standing there. "Are you just going to stand there? Get him out!"

With my signal, the guards grabbed Andrew and dragged him out.

He thought he'd seen right through me and flashed a cocky grin. "Seven days from now, I'll roll up with eighteen Rolls-Royces to pick you up. I'll make you the most beautiful bride in Southvale."

I couldn't hold it in anymore and bent over, retching.

Seven days from now would be my son's third birthday party. He'd better not show up.

The Grant Family was famous for protecting their own, but at worst, they'd just break his arms and legs. But when Alexander lost it, he was lethal.

I thought Andrew was just bluffing, but the next day, one of our mutual friends told me he'd actually sent out wedding invitations.

"Isabelle, are you seriously thinking about divorcing Alexander and marrying Andrew?" my friend asked.

Unable to hide my disgust, I retold everything that happened yesterday.

My friend sighed, shaking her head. "I can't believe he's trying to two-time you. Honestly, you should've just let him fend for himself back then. But... are you really over him?"

At her words, I looked up at my son, and my mind wandered off, lost in memories.

When I was eighteen, I almost got harassed, but Andrew jumped in to shield me and ended up taking the beating for it.

Later, the school library caught fire, and I risked my life to drag him out while he was unconscious.

The next time we met was at a family matchmaking event, and we fell for each other instantly.

But on our wedding day, he told me he'd loved the wrong person all along, tore down the wedding flowers, and chased her straight to the airport.

For ages, I just couldn't figure out why he suddenly changed his heart.

Now I finally understood. He thought Charlotte was the one who saved him from that fire back then.

I just let the question hang in the air.

After I hung up, my friend's warning kept replaying in my head.

"A friend bumped into Charlotte at the airport. You should bring a few more bodyguards when you go out. Don't let her pull any tricks on you again," she said.

I brushed it off and threw myself into planning the birthday bash.