Chapter 1
My husband died in his mistress's bed while I was pregnant.
Everyone said I was lucky, becoming a billionaire at such a young age.
My mother-in-law, Scarlett Jones, stormed into my house with the pregnant mistress, trying to get a piece of the pie.
Everyone called me a jinx, a bad omen who brought misfortune to my husband.
Scarlett jabbed her finger at me, her voice sharp. "If you hadn't gotten yourself pregnant, my son wouldn't have needed to find someone else!
"Hand over the Harper family's money right now, or I'll make you pay!"
I stroked my pregnant belly, a cool smile on my lips. "You're not getting a single cent from this family."
At the funeral, I walked in with a man who was younger, more handsome, and wealthier than my late husband.
As Scarlett stared in shock, I introduced him. "Scarlett, let me introduce you. He's the real father of my child, and my new husband."
The phone rang just as I was reading stories to my unborn baby.
I picked up, and Milo Whitehead's voice was so frantic it barely sounded like him.
"Mrs. Harper... Mr. Harper... there's been an accident!" he said.
My heart lurched, and the book I was holding slipped from my hands, landing on the floor.
"Where is he?" I asked.
Milo could barely string a sentence together.
"He's... he's at an apartment in Oniobert... Mrs. Harper, you might want to sit down for this."
I didn't ask any more questions.
That apartment in Oniobert was Oliver Harper's private hideaway, where the women swapped out faster than you could flip a calendar page.
I hung up, got dressed without a fuss, and grabbed my car keys.
My baby, eight months along, gave me a kick, and I reassuringly rubbed my belly.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm taking you to see some real drama," I said to my baby.
By the time I got to the hospital, Oliver was already covered by a white sheet.
The doctor looked at me with sympathy. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Harper. It was a sudden heart attack. We did everything we could."
Two nurses nearby were whispering to each other.
"I heard he died in the middle of sex. He was brought in completely naked."
"His wife is pregnant. What a jerk."
I walked up to the covered body, expressionless, and pulled back a corner of the sheet.
Oliver's face was bluish and mottled, frozen in a grotesque mix of pleasure and terror from his final moments. It was a truly ugly sight.
Not a single tear fell as I stared at the man I once thought I'd spend my life with.
The woman who once loved him had already been destroyed by his own hands.
I first caught Oliver cheating on the day of our first wedding anniversary.
I left work early, hoping to give him a sweet surprise.
When I opened the door, there was a pair of red high heels right at the entrance. They sure weren't mine.
From the bedroom came muffled moans and those wet, messy noises I never wanted to hear.
My mind buzzed, my head spinning as my blood boiled.
I rushed over and kicked the bedroom door open.
I shouted, "Oliver!"
The two tangled up on the bed scrambled apart in a panic.
Oliver was stark naked, on top of a woman I'd never seen before.
The bed we shared as husband and wife was a disaster zone, sheets twisted, pillows tossed, everything reeking of their affair.
Oliver didn't look the least bit shocked to see me. He just looked irritated that I'd ruined his fun.
He instinctively yanked the covers over the woman, not even sparing me a glance.
And that woman? She wasn't scared at all. She just flashed me a sly smile, her eyes sweeping over me with a mocking, flirty glint.
She tossed off the covers and swaggered over to me, not a stitch on. "Well, well, your wife's finally home?"
She giggled, deliberately pressing herself against Oliver. "Oliver always says you're like a dead fish in bed, nothing like me. You have no idea how wild he gets when he's with me."
She flipped her hair back, showing off every curve. "You're just an old, out-of-shape woman. Do you really think you can compete with me?"
"Shut up!" I was shaking with rage, ready to claw her face off as I lunged at her.
My cheek was on fire. I couldn't believe it. The man I'd loved for years just slapped me, all because of another woman.
He said, "Get the hell out!"
Oliver violently shoved me, making me stagger.
I crashed into the dresser, pain shooting through my elbow.
He pushed me aside, then stood protectively in front of that woman, yelling at me, "Larissa! What the hell is wrong with you? Look at yourself! You're nothing but a mad dog right now!"
The man I'd loved for five years hit me and called me a mad dog, all for that woman.