LOGIN“I’ll give you one chance, Li,” he spat. “Prove it’s mine. Prove you didn’t cheat—right here. Right now.” My stomach dropped. Gasps swallowed the room. “Bastard,” I whispered. Then came the final blow. Uniformed officers stepped forward. “Mrs. Hale, you’re under arrest for corporate espionage.” Five years ago, Cassian Hale destroyed my life, divorcing me publicly, framing me for crimes I didn’t commit, all while cheating with his manipulative secretary, Scarlett Reed. I survived. I thrived. I married his greatest rival, Tristan Valenti. Now I’m back. A ruthless CEO with a secret son he never knew existed, I have one mission: revenge. And I won’t stop until he pays—for the betrayal, the lies, and the life he tried to steal from me. Once I'm done with his cheating ass and his sorry excuse of a side chick, they will wish I was dead.
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Two pink lines. My hands trembled as I gripped the pregnancy test, knees pressed against the cold marble floor. I should have known when my period was late, when the exhaustion clung to me. My breath came too fast, chest heaving as if my body hadn’t caught up with what my eyes were seeing. Positive. A breakthrough. A miracle. A second chance. A weak laugh slipped out , half joy, half sob. “He’ll finally love me again…” I lifted my gaze to the mirror. My reflection looked like a stranger , eyes wide, shimmering with fragile hope, cheeks flushed pink. For months, Cassian’s gaze had been cold, his words clipped, his touch absent. It was my fault, wasn’t it? I wasn’t enough. Not beautiful enough. Not worthy enough. But tonight, everything would change. Tonight, I would give him a reason to remember the man he used to be , the man who once loved me. I pressed my palm against my still-flat stomach. My secret. My miracle. Our child. And for the first time in months, I smiled. ⸻ “Careful, madam, the ground is uneven,” one of the guards warned. I offered him a smile, clutching the folds of my midnight-blue gown as I stepped carefully. The fabric slid over me like liquid silk, hugging the curves Cassian used to adore. He once told me this was his favorite gown. Before Scarlett. Before the silence. Before dinners eaten alone at a long, empty table. I clasped the diamond necklace at my throat with trembling fingers, imagining his arms around me again. Imagining his lips softening when I whispered the words: We’re having a baby. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to see him smile again. The kind of smile I used to create. For a fleeting second, warmth bloomed in my chest. Tonight wasn’t just his birthday gala. Tonight was our second chance. But then my gaze met my reflection once more. And the warmth cracked, giving way to the cold grip of doubt. Our marriage had been unraveling for over a year. Nights spent alone in bed, mornings filled with silence. Tabloids whispering his name beside hers. Scarlett Reed. Perfect. Untouchable. Always too close to my husband. Still… I loved him. Enough to fight. Enough to believe. ⸻ The ballroom glittered beneath chandeliers, cameras flashing as if the room itself was a jewel box. Sequined gowns brushed past me. Diamonds sparkled. Champagne flutes clinked. And whispers followed me like shadows. “Cassian’s wife.” “She looks radiant.” “Poor thing. Doesn’t she know?” I lifted my chin higher, forcing strength into my steps. Tonight, I was not the discarded wife. Tonight, I carried hope beneath my heart. I would save my marriage. ⸻ Then the air shifted. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the double doors opened. My heart stuttered. Cassian Hale. My husband. My stranger. The city’s youngest billionaire CEO. The man I was about to save with three simple words. But my blood froze when I saw her. Scarlett. Her hand wrapped around his. Her crimson smile curved like a blade. The dream shattered instantly. Why would he bring her here? On his birthday? On our night? ⸻ Cassian’s voice cut through the ballroom like breaking glass. “Do you all know what it feels like to live with a liar?” The crowd silenced, eyes glued to us. Scarlett’s smile widened, venom wrapped in lipstick. Cassian strode forward, each step heavy with contempt. From his jacket, he pulled a sleek black folder. With one brutal motion, he hurled it across the table. Papers scattered at my feet like shards of glass. “Divorce papers,” he announced coldly. “Congratulations, Liana. You’ve officially lost the only thing that ever gave you a name.” The words hollowed me out. Divorce? Betrayal? My name? “I don’t understand you, Cassian,” I whispered, voice trembling but steady enough. His eyes , once warm, once mine , were now nothing but ice. His jaw clenched, the faintest twitch betraying something he didn’t want to show. “I tried to understand you, Liana. Tried to understand why you would cheat on me. On the company.” Cheat? My lips parted, but no words came. Until I saw them. Photos spilling across the marble floor , a man and a woman, tangled in shadows. A back tattoo marked the woman’s skin. The same place as mine. “That’s… that’s not me,” I stammered, horror clawing through me. Scarlett leaned in, loud enough for half the ballroom. “Poor thing. He finally saw through you.” My pulse thundered. My lungs refused to pull in air. Not like this. Not with lies. Not with him looking at me like I was filth. My hands trembled, but I forced the words out, desperate, breaking: “I’m pregnant, Cassian.” The world froze. Silence stretched, crushing, suffocating. And then his lips curled into something colder than hate. He wasn’t surprised. His fist tightened once at his side before he forced it still. Scarlett pulled out a case, snapping it open to reveal a vial of tablets. “I’ll give you one chance, Li,” he spat. “Prove it’s mine. Prove you didn’t cheat , by ending it. Right here. Right now.” My stomach dropped. Gasps swallowed the room. “Bastard,” I whispered, the word breaking inside me. And then , the final blow. Uniformed officers stepped forward, badges glinting under the chandeliers. “Mrs. Hale,” one said. “You’re under arrest for corporate espionage.” Cold metal locked around my wrists. My body went numb. The world blurred into flashing lights and flashing cameras. “Cassian!” I cried, voice cracking, pleading. “Please , you know I would never,” But he stood there. Unmoving. Unflinching. Scarlett smirking at his side like she’d already won. As the officers dragged me forward, Scarlett leaned close, her perfume choking me. “Don’t worry, darling,” she whispered, her smile slicing. “I’ll take good care of him.” Dragged through the crowd, blinded by bulbs and whispers, I clutched my stomach as though my arms alone could shield the fragile life inside me. “Let go of me! Don’t touch me!” And that was the moment I understood. My world had ended in a single night.-LIANA-The drive home was quieter than I expected.The kind of quiet that made the air feel padded — like the whole city had agreed not to breathe too loudly.Tristan leaned back against the leather seat, his eyes half-shut. The bandages beneath his shirt had already bled through in faint patches, and a strip of gauze wrapped around the base of his neck peeked out from under his collar. Even slumped like that, he still looked like the man the headlines called untouchable. But the slump made him smaller, mortal. Breakable.The driver took the long route, eyes fixed on the road. No music. No chatter. Just the soft hum of tires and the faint scent of antiseptic from Tristan’s shirt. I could tell the driver had been briefed — no sudden turns, no eye contact, no unnecessary questions. The kind of silence bought with a lifetime NDA.I didn’t let my gaze soften.He was alive — a mess, but breathing — and that meant the next step was control. Always control.My mental checklist unfolded like
-TRISTAN-When the afternoon comes to a brittle close, Detective Argen returns with the new lead: the shell company had a phone number listed—prepaid burner, routed through a series of VOIP accounts. Someone nagged a point into the system and had used a courier service to pick up the chemicals. The forensics hadn’t established prints on the canister that were usable, but they matched a gait profile—tall, left-handed. Left-handed—small, useful detail. The cloak of anonymity thins when the hunter has patience.I call in a favor—one of the people I never like owing a debt to—and have him pull CCTV in a two-mile radius around the delivery path. We line up times, walk patterns, the moments when deliveries pass and trucks idle. If the attacker rented a van, we’ll see it somewhere. If someone miscoded their route and looped around security a second time, we’ll find it. I dig into every logistical seam. I make calls that are rude and necessary.The ward fades while I work. My phone becomes a
-TRISTAN-Night bleeds into a thin, indifferent gray before the machines in the ward decide to make sound again. I wake to the monitor’s soft, regular peep and the ghost of pain unspooling along my back—hot, then aching, then a constant electric thrum under the skin. My left shoulder twinges when I move; the sheets drag against the grafts with a rasping whisper.Liana is there again. Of course she is. Her head is slouched forward on the chair by the bed, hair falling over one cheek, hand still looped through mine. When I try to shift she startles awake, eyes wide and raw, the kind of look that means the adrenaline finally stopped pretending it could hold the edges together.“Hey,” I rasp. My voice cracks and surprises me. I sound smaller than usual.She forces a smile. “You finally woke. Don’t be dramatic.”“Is that a command?” The grin is half a wince. The morphine makes my tongue feel thick but grateful; it blunted the first, jagged edge of the pain and left me with a low, constant
-LIANA-By the time the doctors cleared me to stay overnight, the hospital corridors had turned quiet.That heavy, late-afternoon quiet where everything feels suspended — grief, anger, exhaustion — waiting to see which will break first.Tristan was resting again, his breaths shallow but steady. His arm was still bandaged, his shoulder propped up by pillows to stop the burn from pulling too tight.I sat in the chair beside his bed, scrolling through the endless stream of news updates.Each headline twisted the truth a little more.“Acid Attack Mystery: Rival CEOs Targeted?”“Who Wanted Liana Halenti Dead?”“Scarlett Hale Breaks Down in Tears.”Of course she did.Scarlett always knew how to cry when the cameras were rolling.I drove Elias back home and he’s with Maya for the evening, and the quiet without him felt too sharp. Too cold.I wasn’t used to stillness anymore.The door opened softly, and Detective Argen stepped in — tall, mid-40s, his coat still smelling faintly of rain.“Ms.
-LIANA-The hospital smelled like bleach and fear.Elias clung to my hand, his little fingers warm and sticky from the lollipop Maya had bribed him with before we left home. His curls bounced with each step, and his eyes darted everywhere — wide, curious, a little worried.I’d tried to dress bright for him — a pale yellow blouse, soft jeans — but nothing could mask the heaviness sitting under my ribs. Every corridor looked the same. Every beeping monitor made me flinch.When we reached the door to Tristan’s room, I hesitated.For a second, I just stood there, watching my reflection in the small windowpane. My hair was neat, my face composed — but my heart was still racing, my throat thick with guilt.He’d taken the hit meant for me.And no amount of hospital-grade bandages could cover that kind of wound.Elias tugged on my hand. “Mommy? Can we go in now?”I blinked and forced a smile. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go see Daddy.”The door creaked open.Tristan was sitting up against the pillows,
-LIANA-The morning light slanted through the curtains — too bright, too ordinary for a world that had cracked open the night before.I hadn’t slept. Not since I arrived home just to see Elias. Not when I took a hot shower to calm my nerves.The smell of antiseptic still clung to my clothes. Even after the shower, I could feel the hospital on me — cold, sterile, humming with machines that had kept Tristan alive through the night.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again.The flash of movement.The hiss of liquid.The way he’d shoved me aside without hesitation, his body intercepting the acid meant for mine.The way I saw pain flashing across his faceMy hands trembled as I poured myself coffee I didn’t want. I gripped the edge of the counter, breathing slow, deliberate breaths, trying to steady myself.Across the room, the television flickered silently.Every channel showed the same thing — us.THE HALE CORP ACID ATTACK, the headlines screamed.Clips replayed the chaos on loop: Tri






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