Chapter 1
When you saw the title, did you think it was going to be one of those stories where Lysander Linwood went crazy with regret after losing me?
And suddenly he realized he'd been madly in love with me all along, and then started groveling to get me back?
Sorry to disappoint, but real life wasn't full of those "begging for forgiveness" arcs.
Men's love for novelty was practically hardwired into their DNA.
Especially rich guys, they didn't even bother to fake it anymore.
I, Autumn Coldwell, was the wife of Lysander of Linwood Holdings.
Lysander was always surrounded by women.
But honestly, I didn't care.
It wasn't about being generous; it was just business to me.
A hundred grand a month for my allowance, plus gifts wired to my account on every holiday and special occasion.
And then there was the occasional bonus income.
Whenever he ticked me off, he'd show up with a smile, handing me a credit card or a diamond bracelet as his idea of "compensation."
Other women envied me.
They wished they could be the real Mrs. Linwood.
They were even more jealous that I couldn't have cared less about him.
That was right. If one didn't love, one didn't get hurt.
But after years of putting on the act, playing the flawless Mrs. Linwood, I was just worn out.
I was seriously considering quitting that whole charade.
Now, there was a young, stunning college girl who had him totally hooked.
My chance had finally come.
*****
At 10:17 PM, I sat at my vanity, unhurriedly applying the last layer of night cream to my face.
The woman in the mirror had smooth skin and relaxed features.
It took me a few seconds to realize.
What I saw wasn't youth, but the kind of effortless calm that only money could buy.
At twenty-eight, married for seven years, with a six-year-old son, for a woman my age, I was already winning at life.
My phone buzzed.
I didn't rush to check it.
I twisted the cap back onto the night cream, put it away, then picked up the hand cream, squeezed out a bit, and slowly rubbed it in.
After seven years, this routine was so familiar I could do it with my eyes closed.
Only after I finished did I pick up my phone.
It was a message from Lysander: [Not coming home tonight. With a client.]
I replied: [Sure.]
Three seconds later, another message popped up: [I reserved a villa in the Serenvale development for you. My assistant will take care of the paperwork tomorrow.]
I stared at the screen for a couple of seconds, then smiled.
'With a client?' I thought. Celeste's face flashed through my mind.
She was a senior at the music academy.
Last week, when I was dropping off Christopher for his piano lesson, she walked out of the practice room—no makeup, ponytail, eyes shining.
Lysander was standing right next to me, and his gaze lingered on her for at least five seconds.
I didn't call him out.
What was the point?
Would he stop messing around if I did?
Would I still get that villa?
I opened my phone's notes app, found the encrypted folder, and opened it.
It was an Excel spreadsheet titled [Mrs. Linwood's Seven-Year Performance Summary.]
First entry: March 2017, six months after the wedding, caught his first affair, got a downtown commercial property as compensation (annual rent about 100 thousand dollars).
Second entry: September 2017, pregnant, he went to Azure Cove with Seraphina Vane, got 5% stake in the company (dividend that year: 670 thousand dollars).
Third entry: May 2018, three months after giving birth, he stayed out all night and returned the next day with three limited-edition Hermès bags (valued at approximately 270 thousand dollars after discount).
……
I scrolled all the way down to today's entry: September 2024, Celeste Sterling enters the picture (still under review), and I will be gifted a villa in Serenvale, estimated value: 4 million dollars.
At the very bottom, there was a total of 18.4 million dollars.
Almost 20 million.
I closed the notes app, set my phone back on the nightstand, turned off the light, and went to sleep.
My last thought before drifting off: Celeste, you better make it count. Don't fizzle out in two or three months like the last ones.
At 7 AM, I opened my eyes right on time.
For seven years, whether Lysander came home or not, or how late he showed up, I always woke up at seven sharp.
Being Mrs. Linwood didn't require clocking in, but it took real discipline.
After washing up, I headed downstairs. Christopher was already sitting at the dining table.
The six-year-old sat up straight, wearing his crisp, ironed school uniform.
When he saw me, he called out, "Morning, Mom."
"Morning, sweetheart," I replied.
I kissed his forehead and sat down beside him.
The housekeeper brought out breakfast.
Christopher had milk oatmeal with a poached egg, and I had an Americano with a slice of whole-wheat toast.
Staying in shape was just part of the job.
Halfway through breakfast, my phone rang; it was my mother-in-law.
"Autumn, are you free today?" Her voice sounded a bit lazy, like she'd just woken up.
"Yes?" I said.
"Come with me to get my hair done this afternoon. There's a dinner with my old friends tonight; you're coming with me," she said.
"Sure. What time should I pick you up?" I asked.
"Two o'clock. Oh, and who's picking up Christopher from school?" she asked.
"I'll have Higgins do it. You don't have to worry," I said.