Chapter 2

Edward didn't die.

The surgery took eleven hours. They removed his spleen, cleared the bleeding in his brain, and his spine was crushed from the third to the fifth vertebra, so they put in six steel pins.

When the lead surgeon came out, he took off his mask and said, "He survived, but his lower body odds are... he'll never stand up again."

Alexis fainted right then and there.

I caught her and tried to wake her up, then called for a nurse. It took half an hour to help Alexis get settled, with Sophie keeping her company.

I stood alone outside the ICU, staring at Edward through the glass.

He was hooked up to tubes everywhere, his face pale as a ghost, the ventilator breathing for him, slow and steady.

This was my husband.

The man I'd been married to for five years.

The first two years, we were pretty loving, at least on the surface. He was busy, I was busy, both of us had our own careers.

We'd have dinner together sometimes, go out on weekends every now and then. It wasn't exactly passionate, but it worked.

But in the third year, things started to feel off.

He was away on business trips more and more. He never let his phone out of sight, even took it into the bathroom. Sometimes, he'd take calls out on the balcony, always shutting the door behind him.

I didn't ask. It wasn't that I didn't care. I just wanted to be sure before I said anything.

I got the private investigator's report in the fall of the third year. Chloe was twenty-six, used to be a model, and by the time she started seeing Edward, she was already two months pregnant.

The day the baby was born, Edward was supposed to be away on a business trip, but in reality, he was at a postnatal care center in the neighboring city, playing the doting father for Chloe.

That night, after I got the report, I sat alone in my study for a long time. I cried, washed my face, and then started thinking about what to do next.

Divorce? I could've done it then. Edward cheated and had a kid with another woman. Even if I left with nothing, I'd still come out ahead. Besides, the law was on my side.

But I didn't do anything.

Because at that time, Edward had just gotten approval for a mining project and had already invested 270 million dollars in it, with the payoff expected in three years.

If I divorced then, I'd only get a cut of what he had right then. But if I waited, waited for the project to pay out, I'd get a share of assets after they'd multiplied five times over.

So I waited.

I waited, forcing a smile, toughing it out, and playing dumb like I had no clue about anything.

Over those three years, I handled a few crucial steps.

First, I moved every asset I could under my name to my parents and friends, preparing for the worst.

Second, I invested in three projects under my own name, kept all the money in my own company's accounts, and made sure it wouldn't be considered marital property with Edward. My lawyer said if it ever went to court, this part wouldn't be divided.

Third, I collected evidence, hotel records, wire transfers, travel logs between Edward and Chloe. The private investigator followed them for two and a half years, and the evidence filled two file boxes.

Fourth, I hired the best divorce lawyer in the city and ran through every possible outcome with him.

My original plan was to make my move at the end of this year. The mining project was supposed to pay out in October, so I'd file for divorce in November and get the property split settled before the year was out.

But I never expected he'd get into an accident first.

He headed into the mountains with Chloe.

The car they were in went over the cliff.

Chloe got lucky. She was thrown out and only broke her arm. Edward was trapped in the driver's seat, crushed between the steering wheel and the roof for forty minutes before anyone could get him out.

I stood outside the ICU, staring at the man inside, hooked up to all those tubes, my mind racing.

Plans had to change.

If he died, it'd be about inheritance. If he lived but couldn't make decisions, it'd be about guardianship. Either way, there was no way Chloe was getting ninety percent of the assets.

But things were even more complicated than I'd expected.

He wasn't dead, and he wasn't completely incapacitated, at least, we didn't know yet if his mind would ever be clear again. If he woke up and could still make his own choices, and he insisted on giving everything to Chloe, that would be a real headache.

So I only had one real question. If Edward woke up, whose side would he take?

I turned and walked out of the ward.

I pulled out my phone, found the number labeled "Richard," and dialed it.

He picked up after two rings.

"Richard, it's Olivia," I said.

"Ms. Bennett, I saw the news. How's Mr. Grant holding up?" he asked.

"He's alive, but he's paralyzed from the waist down," I replied.

He went quiet for a second.

"So, what about our original plan—" he started.

"We'll need to change things up," I said. "Swing by the hospital tomorrow morning. I'll catch you up on everything. Some woman showed up waving a will."

"A will? Was it notarized?" Richard asked.

"That's right," I replied.

"When did he get it notarized?" he pressed.

"Last month," I answered.

Richard paused for a few seconds. "He just had the will notarized last month, and now this happens. Olivia, isn't that a bit too much of a coincidence?"

I stood at the end of the hallway, staring out into the pitch-black night.

"Of course I do," I replied.

That was exactly why I kept my cool.

Chloe acted like she'd rehearsed this scene a hundred times, so confident, so sure of herself.

She didn't just barge in during the surgery on a whim; this was all calculated.

She wanted to blindside the Grant Family when they were at their most vulnerable, waving that will around to leave everyone shell-shocked.

She was here to grab whatever she could while the chaos lasted.

Too bad for her, she picked the wrong person to mess with.

After hanging up, I headed back. As I passed the nurse's station, the nurse on duty called out to me.

"Mrs. Grant, that woman showed up again just now, said she wanted to see Mr. Grant. We wouldn't let her in," the nurse said.

"What did she look like?" I asked.

"White dress, carrying a child," the nurse replied.

I nodded. "From now on, unless it's me or someone from Edward's immediate family, anyone else who wants to visit needs to call me first and get my okay."

The nurse nodded.

I walked back to the chair outside the ICU, sat down, and closed my eyes.

I went back over every word Chloe had said that day, every expression, every gesture.

She had said the thing Edward regretted most in his life was marrying me.

Maybe she really heard Edward say that, or maybe she just made it up. Doesn't matter.

If Edward really didn't feel guilty about what he did to me, why would he leave me ten percent in his will?

If he truly hated me, he wouldn't have left me a dime.

That ten percent? That was him trying to ease his guilty conscience, hush me up, like he's saying, "Yeah, I screwed you over, but here's some compensation, so don't make a scene."

So what did that tell me?

It told me Edward knew he was in the wrong, he knew he owed me, and when he wrote that will, he definitely had second thoughts.

Hesitation, that was all I need.

It meant I still had a window to play my cards.

If he woke up and felt even a bit guilty, I've got a chance to make him tear up what he had done with his own hands.

I opened my eyes and looked at the man in the ICU, still as a corpse.

But if he wouldn't, he shouldn't blame me for doing things my way.