Chapter 1
When I plunged the knife into my foster brother's chest, the bastard who'd been touching me, I was just eighteen.
The public called me a slut who seduced my own foster brother.
But Miguel Kane, a renowned lawyer, insisted on taking my case.
He never wavered, standing by me and defending me against everyone.
When the media pressed him, Miguel just gave a gentle smile.
He said, "The law doesn't turn a blind eye to evil.
"From now on, no one can use family as a weapon against her.
"She deserves to live her own life."
After I was acquitted, I lost the only person who ever supported me.
With no money for school, I ended up dancing in nightclubs just to survive.
By then, Miguel had become a partner at one of the most prestigious law firms in Trastead City.
Once again, he dragged me out of the abyss.
He said, "Marry me. If you don't, I swear I'll lose my mind."
After we got married, we were joined at the hip. Miguel claimed he kept nothing from me.
But one day, I found a thick stack of love letters hidden in his drawer, a whopping 108 of them.
Every single one poured out his aching love for another girl.
The last letter was dated just three days ago.
He quietly slid all the love letters into the shredder.
Miguel shrugged, "Forget it. Just someone from my past."
I filed for divorce online and coolly handed him my phone.
I said, "I'm tired. Just agree to it."
He snatched the phone and smashed it against the wall.
He said, "Let me make this clear.
"Unless I'm dead, I'm never letting you go."
With that, he slammed the door and stormed out.
That evening, I got a rush delivery with no name on it.
Inside was a positive pregnancy test and a USB stick.
The people starring in that USB video were faces I recognized instantly.
One was my husband, Miguel.
The other was his first love, Colette Bush, a woman who looked like me.
The video was silent.
But the sight of their tangled bodies and the rhythm of their movements stung worse than any sound ever could.
Then Colette called.
Her voice was full of smug pride, practically showing off.
She said, "Bethany, did you like the special present I picked out just for you?
"Your poor son couldn't even make it past his first birthday... what a pity.
"Remember that day he had a raging fever and you were sobbing, begging Miguel for help?
"Ever wonder why he didn't make it back to you?
"Because I was in Trastead City, practicing piano, and I happened to nick my finger.
"He was so freaked out about me, he hopped on a plane that very night just to hold my hand."
I didn't say a word.
She locked eyes with me and kept talking. "You're nothing but my shadow, a second-rate stand-in.
"You're nothing but my shadow, a second-rate stand-in."
"Now that I'm back, your time's up. Get out of my sight."
I hung up without saying a word.
Trading insults with a barking dog would only drag me down to her level.
Expressionless, I packaged up that video.
Then, I gathered every shred of proof of Colette's affair and her wrecking my marriage, and fired it all off to the media.
At nine o'clock tonight, Colette would be taking the stage for her first solo violin concert since coming back to Trastead City.
At exactly nine o'clock, the hashtag "Violin Diva Exposed as a Homewrecker" went viral across the internet.
With undeniable video and photo evidence, the internet went wild in seconds.
The comment section during the live concert stream went from worshipping her as a goddess to flooding the chat with hate and accusations.
Under the spotlight, Colette's face was white as a sheet.
In the end, she fled the stage in a panic, with the crowd booing her off.
Her reputation was destroyed in just thirty minutes.
I poured myself a glass of red wine, letting the rich aroma swirl around me.
Leaning against the floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched the city lights sparkle below, like the whole world was at my feet, finally at peace.
Miguel came home around midnight.
He reeked of perfume and was fuming.
He slammed his phone down on the table, the scandal still glowing on the screen.
He snapped, "She just mouthed off at you a little. Did you really have to blow up her whole career over that?"
I didn't even look at him, just kept my eyes fixed on the city lights outside, lost in the night.
After losing my child,
Severe depression took over. I couldn't sleep, not even for a single night.
He clamped down on my wrist, his grip fierce and unyielding.
"Talk to me," Miguel snapped.
I turned to him and gave him a frosty, mocking smile.
"Some things you say, you pay for."
"Miguel, did you forget how our child died?"
His anger vanished in an instant, replaced by a flash of panic and guilt in his eyes.
He released my wrist, noticing the bottle of pills next to my hand. When he spoke again, his voice was much gentler.
He said, "Did you take your meds? I'll call Dr. Andrew Banks over."
I jerked away from his reaching hand, then bit down hard on his hand, putting every ounce of strength I had into it, until my mouth was flooded with the taste of blood.
The taste of blood filled me with a perverse sense of satisfaction, a revenge as bitter and warped as the blood in my mouth.
Miguel let out a muffled grunt, but he didn't pull away.
He just wrapped me up in a fierce hug, letting me vent all my pain on him.