Chapter 0003

"You heard me. Apologize to Mia." Drake insisted again while my heart was still sinking from his last words.

Pride warred with practicality as humiliation crawled up my throat. But what choice did I have?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words tasting like ashes on my tongue.

Mia's lips curved into a smile of pure triumph. She patted Drake's shoulder, gazing up at him adoringly. "It's okay, Drake. It was just an accident. Charlotte didn't mean it."

My hands clenched at my sides. Six years. Six years of sacrifice, compromise, and unwavering loyalty. And in this moment, she meant less to him than a stranger.

"Go clean yourself up," Drake said offhandedly. "Mia, use my credit card to order a replacement for your outfit. Charlotte, clean up this mess before my next appointment arrives."

Mia stood, pressing a soft kiss to Drake's cheek before sauntering past Charlotte. She didn't speak, but her smirk communicated volumes.

Shocked, I felt something essential unraveling inside me. As if my entire existence had been built on a foundation of sand, and I was only now watching it collapse.

“Drake? I’m your wife, and I just caught someone kissing you comfortably. How do you expect me to react?” My voice came off as brittle, but I didn't care.

Drake had already turned back to his computer, dismissing me completely. "There should be cleaning supplies in the storage closet," he added without looking up.

"Drake."

He barely glanced my way as he cried out, "What the f*ck do you want?"

I drew a shaky breath, studying the man I had given everything to. "It's been six years." My voice was quiet but carried the weight of everything I'd never said.

“More than six years of standing beside you. Fighting for you. Being your wife in name if nothing else." I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. "But now I have to ask—what am I to you? What was I ever to you?"

His expression remained impassive. A flicker of something—perhaps regret, perhaps mere inconvenience—passed through his eyes before vanishing.

"You're a business arrangement, Charlotte. Nothing more."

I stared at him, waiting for some sign that his words weren't sincere. Waiting for him to retract the cruelty, to acknowledge even a fraction of what they'd shared.

But he didn't.

****

Yes, it's another day!

I made my way toward the imposing glass tower of Watson Holdings.

‘Yesterday gutted me. Today, I walk like nothing happened, but every step feels like a lie.’ I thought, squaring my shoulders as the air-conditioned lobby enveloped me.

I hadn't slept. How could I? Drake's words from our last encounter had replayed in my mind like a cruel soundtrack—clinical, distant, as though the months we'd spent together had been nothing but a convenient contract arrangement. I had replayed every moment, searching for signs I had missed, clues that might have prepared me for his sudden coldness.

The elevator doors slid open on the executive floor, and the low hum of conversation died instantly. Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled toward me, watching with a mixture of curiosity and poorly disguised glee at the latest office drama. I lifted my chin, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

Sylvia from Accounting quickly busied herself with papers. Martin from Legal suddenly found his coffee fascinating. Even Jen, who I had thought was a friend, averted her eyes.

They know, I realized with a sickening lurch. Somehow, they all know about Drake and me.

I made it to my desk, dropping my designer handbag beside my computer with forced nonchalance. Work had always been my sanctuary—the place where my Harvard MBA and sharp instincts earned my respect regardless of my modest background.

Today, I would lose myself in quarterly projections and market analyses.

Today, I would pretend my world wasn't collapsing.

"Here comes the calculating little gold-digger."

The words sliced through as I stepped into the hallway, clutching a file of reports. A hush fell over the open office space. My steps faltered, my knuckles whitening around the folder.

A woman I didn't recognize stood near the conference room, wearing an expression of undisguised contempt. She was polished to perfection—designer clothes, a posture that screamed old money and established connections. Her caramel-highlighted hair cascaded in artful waves, and a strand of pearls adorned her neck—exactly the kind of woman the Watson family would approve of, just like Mia.

"You heard me perfectly well," the woman said, her voice musical despite its venom.

I felt her professional mask slipping. "And who exactly are you to address me like that?"

The woman laughed, the sound like expensive crystal striking marble. "Oh, I see. You think your position here is secure because you successfully wormed your way into Drake's bed?"

The words hit like a physical blow. My breath caught in my throat. "Excuse me?"

I don’t know her at all, yet she’s armed with details that she is using to belittle me. Mia or Aria’s pawn? Doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with her like the rest.

"Alexandra Winters." A familiar voice cut called the woman through the tension.

Mia strode forward towards us, her stiletto heels clicked against the hardwood floor like the ticking of a time bomb.

"Alexandra is the new Director of Strategic Development," Mia continued, examining her manicure before fixing me with a cold smile. "Your department will be reporting to her effective immediately."

My stomach tightened as Mia’s words settled in. Replaced. The word hit like a slap, but I forced myself to stand still, to keep my expression neutral.

“My department?” The words came out quieter than I intended. “I’m the Director of Strategic Development.”

I can’t believe this; it’s only been a day since Mia came back, and Drake has already handed her control of the company. She’s been given the authority to remove anyone she doesn’t like from their positions, all to serve her own agenda. And I, his wife, haven’t been given that kind of authority in over six years.

The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet. Besides, Drake would have told me if my position was being reassigned. He would have at least given her that professional courtesy... wouldn't he?

Heat crawled up my neck. No. Not like this. Not publicly. I had spent years proving myself, working harder than anyone else in this company. I couldn’t just be sacked.

Without thinking twice, I turned on my heel, heading straight for Drake’s office. He wouldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t.

But before I could take further steps, Mia blocked my path, fingers curling around my wrist with surprising force.

"Where do you think you're going?”

"To speak with Drake," I said, pulling my arm free. "This is completely unprofessional.”

Alexandra's laugh cut through the tension. "Speaking of unprofessional... is that how you plan to keep your job? Another private meeting with the CEO?"

I froze dead, the implication hanging in the air like poison gas.

"There's a difference between being qualified and being... convenient," Mia added, her voice dripping with innuendo.

The room had grown utterly silent, dozens of coworkers watching the public execution of my career and dignity.

"Are you actually surprised?" Mia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Everyone knows, Charlotte. It's been the topic of discussion at every charity gala and corporate event for months.”

My throat constricted. "Know what, exactly?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alexandra didn't waste time in humiliating me, "That you slept your way into this position straight out of business school, and that's the only reason someone with your... background... could possibly have landed such a senior role."

The accusation struck with brutal force. I had graduated top of my class at Harvard. Had worked eighty-hour weeks. Had sacrificed everything for my career. And now these conspirators were reducing all my accomplishments to this?

"You're delusional," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. The terrible truth was that while I had earned my position before ever meeting Drake, our relationship had begun three months after I'd started working at Watson Holdings. The timeline was damning enough to make the rumors seem plausible.

Mia and Alexandra both stared at me with disdain.

I will watch them closely and see how it all unfolds, letting time reveal who eventually comes out on top. If Mia thinks she can easily replace me, she’s in for a challenge. This time, I’m counting on a secret that might just give me the upper hand.

Alexandra wasn't finished. "They're also saying you've been warming Drake's bed while he's been—"

"Stop!" I tried to shun them, my voice raw with emotion. "Just stop."

Alexandra tilted her head, studying me with cold calculation.

"What's wrong? Did I strike a nerve? Or are you going to deny sleeping with your boss while he was already involved with someone else?"

Shame, anger, and heartbreak crashed over me in suffocating waves. The rumors twisted the truth into something ugly, something that made me look like nothing more than an opportunistic mistress. But me and Drake... it had been real. Hadn't it?

"You disgust me," Alexandra continued, her voice soft but carrying through the silent office.

"Everyone knows you only kept your position because you threw yourself at Drake Watson, and now—"

"That's enough!" My voice cracked as I turned and fled, no longer able to maintain my composure.

By the time I reached my office, I could barely breathe. A sharp cramp seized my lower abdomen, and I gasped, gripping the edge of my desk as pain coursed through my mid-section. I pressed a hand to my stomach, sudden fear eclipsing my humiliation.

No. Please. Not now.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I grabbed my bag and rushed out, ignoring the gazes that followed me. I didn't stop until I reached Memorial Hospital, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Dr. Sullivan was kind, professional, running the necessary tests while I sat rigid with fear, my hands protectively cradling my still-flat stomach.

"Your baby is fine, Mrs. Watson," he said finally, his voice gentle. Relief coursed through me, and I exhaled shakily, shoulders slumping.

"However—" Dr. Sullivan hesitated, his expression growing serious.

There's always a however.

Everything should be alright. The new life growing inside me gives me hope—it’s the strength I’m relying on to ensure Mia doesn’t become my replacement.

"You need to avoid emotional distress at all costs. Your blood pressure is dangerously elevated, and that poses a significant risk to both you and the baby. Do you understand?" His gaze was stern but compassionate.

I nodded numbly. Avoid emotional distress. As if that were possible when my entire life was imploding.

As I walked toward the reception area to settle my bill, a familiar deep laugh cut through the hospital's quiet efficiency. I froze, my gaze drawn to the sound like a moth to flame.

Drake.

He sat in the waiting area, his tall frame making the standard chair look inadequate. And beside him—Mia. He had his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as a nurse examined what appeared to be a minor scratch on her forearm. They looked intimate, comfortable. Mia leaned into him with the ease of someone who belonged there.

My stomach knotted. So while my world was falling apart, while our child was at risk, he was here playing a concerned boyfriend to the woman who had just humiliated me?

Something snapped inside me. The tenuous thread of hope I'd been clinging to—that there must be some explanation, some misunderstanding—finally broke.

With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and typed:

I'm pregnant. Meet me in room 218. We need to talk.

I hit send and watched Drake reach for his phone. Saw him frown at the screen, saw the color drain from his face as he read my message. His thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment before he pocketed the device without responding.

I turned and walked to the designated room, my heart pounding against my ribs. What would he say? Would he deny the child was his? Would he demand the same "solution" he'd suggested through Mia? Or would he finally, finally show a glimmer of the man I thought I had known?

The door opened with a soft click, and I looked up, hope and dread warring in my chest.

But it wasn't Drake who stepped into the room.

It was Mia.