Chapter 1

I, Victoria Evans, started from scratch and built a company worth billions.

My husband, Richard Evans, kept a lover for eighteen years and even had a daughter with her.

While I was in late-stage cancer, I called my lawyer to my bedside.

The first clause of my will said only the children of my son could inherit.

The lawyer froze. "But ma'am, your son isn't married yet, and he—"

"Just write it that way," I said.

Three months later, the illegitimate daughter showed up with a DNA report, demanding her share of the estate.

My lawyer smiled, and my husband's face went pale.

*****

The doctor set down the X-ray film. He looked at me. "Mrs. Evans, it's cancer," he said. "It's in the late stages."

My mind went numb for a moment. Still, I pulled myself together almost instantly.

I looked at him and asked, "How long do I have?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses. "If you stick with the basic treatment, you've got about three months. If you push for something more aggressive, maybe you can make it to six months."

I nodded. "Got it." Then I got up and walked out of the doctor's office.

Richard rushed over to me. He took hold of my arm.

"Victoria, how is it?" he asked. His eyes were full of worry.

I met his gaze. For twenty years, this was the face I'd looked at every day: from the days when he was a young guy managing my warehouse to an executive, worth billions.

I used to think I knew him inside out.

I shook my head. "I'm fine. I have a meeting at the office. I'll head over now."

Richard grabbed my arm hard. "What could possibly be more important than your health? Tell me what the doctor said."

His eyes were rimmed with red. There was a slight quiver in his voice. What an actor.

If not for what happened half an hour ago: me waiting for my results in the doctor's office, bored out of my mind, and picking up his phone, which he'd left behind.

The screen lit up on its own. It was a family photo.

In the picture, Richard was holding a girl who looked about sixteen or seventeen.

Next to him was a woman who still looked stunning.

All three of them were smiling brightly.

The background was the suburban villa I'd bought for him two years ago.

He said he liked the peace and quiet there and would stay there from time to time.

Turned out, that was his idea of "peace and quiet."

It was like a cold hand gripping my heart. The pain made it hard to breathe.

I spent eighteen years building my empire from nothing, clawing my way up every step of the way, while he'd had another family all along.

I put the phone back in its place and flipped it upside down, like nothing ever happened.

Looking at Richard's face full of fake affection, I felt sick to my stomach.

I brushed his hand away. "Only a bit of low blood sugar. It's nothing new," I said coldly.

Richard was stunned for a moment. He probably didn't expect me to be this distant.

He hurried after me. "Let me drive you back to the office. Wait, no. You have to go home and get some rest. You can always make more money, but your health should come first."

He pulled me along toward the parking lot. His grip was so strong that I didn't have a chance to refuse.

He kept talking the whole way, reminiscing about those rough days back when we first met and how we got where we were today step by step.

He talked about how much he cared about me.

I stared out the window at the city rolling by and didn't hear a single word he said. I only had that photo in my head.

The girl's features were strikingly similar to his. She looked about sixteen or seventeen.

The timeline lined up perfectly. I closed my eyes.

When we got home, Richard gallantly poured me a glass of water and brought me my slippers.

"Why don't you lie down for a bit? I'll make you something to eat," he said.

I didn't move and sat on the couch, staring at the living room I'd designed myself.

Every piece of furniture was handpicked and brought back from overseas. Now, it all felt like a bad joke.

Richard was cooking in the kitchen. The sounds of clanking pots and pans drifted out. The air was filled with the warmth and bustle of everyday life.

He'd always been this way. Whenever he was around me, he played the role of the perfect, attentive husband.

Everyone else envied me. They said I was the luckiest woman alive. My career was thriving, my family seemed perfect, and Richard was the best husband.

There was never any gossip or scandal about him. He cherished me like I was his greatest treasure.

I laughed, tears stinging my eyes.

I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my personal assistant. [Find out about someone for me: a woman in her forties, with a teenage girl at sixteen or seventeen.

[She's got ties to Richard. I want everything you can find, and I need it fast.]

After sending the message, I deleted the chat history.

Richard walked over with a steaming plate of spaghetti. "Eat it while it's warm. I added two eggs for you."

He sat down beside me and watched me expectantly.

I picked up my fork and took a bite.

It tasted good, only a little salty.

Maybe it was my tears that made it taste that way.

I smiled at him. "It's delicious."

Richard's face instantly relaxed. He smiled back. "If you like it, I'll cook for you every day."

I nodded. "Sure."

But inside, I was thinking differently. Wait and see what'll happen, Richard. Hold on. I no longer have that much time, so I had to move quickly.

That night, he slept soundly.

I lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. I didn't sleep a wink all night.

The next day, my assistant called. She got it done fast.

I stepped out onto the balcony to take the call.

My assistant said, "Mrs. Evans. I've got everything you wanted. The woman's name is Grace Taylor. She's forty-two, used to be a secretary at your company.

"She left eighteen years ago. Not long after quitting, she had a daughter: Anna Evans."

Anna Evans, huh? She even had his last name. What a great husband I had.

"Did you get the paternity test done?" I asked.

"Yeah, we got a hair sample from Miss Evans and matched it with the hair from Mr. Evans's comb at home," my assistant replied.

"So, what's the verdict?"

"They're definitely father and daughter; 99.99% certainty."

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the railing.

"Did you look into the villa they're living in and the money they're spending?" I asked.

My assistant replied, "Yeah, I did. Mr. Evans bought the villa three years ago, paid for it in full with his personal account, and put it under Grace's name.

"Every month, Mr. Evans transfers 150 thousand dollars to Grace's account for living expenses. Miss Evans goes to an international school. Mr. Evans covers all her tuition, extracurriculars, and every other expense.

"Over the years, the total amount spent is around 30 million dollars."

My assistant's voice was calm. She was listing off cold, hard numbers.

I closed my eyes. 30 million dollars was my profit for a single quarter, money I fought for with my blood, sweat, and tears.

He spent it without a second thought, supporting his other family, raising the child he had with another woman.

At that moment, my heart died.

"I got it," I said. "Organize everything: photos, videos, transfer records, and every single thing you find. Encrypt it and send it to me.

"And get me a meeting with my lawyer, Melvin Carter. Do it now."

I hung up the phone and returned to the bedroom.

Richard was still asleep. He was smiling, looking so content. I couldn't tell what kind of happy dreams he was having.

I watched him for a long time, and then, I smiled.

Richard, you owed me big time. I'll make sure you pay it all back with interest.