Chapter 2

The next day, I returned to the office after finishing my classes.

I opened an encrypted messaging app. Dozens of texts from Winnie popped up on the screen.

[Ellie, Brodie took me to a cocktail party today! So many big shots were there. I was so nervous!]

[He introduced me to Mr. King. He even said I was smart.]

She attached a photo of herself clinging to Brodie’s arm in a cheap gown, grinning from ear to ear.

I sent back a reply.

[An introduction means nothing. Anyone can do that.]

[Get him to give you a seat at the table. Not just a shopping spree.]

Winnie replied right away.

[Ellie, what do I do? He gets kind of annoyed when I bring up work.]

I responded, [Men are all the same. They’re pathetic. The more you make him your whole world, the cheaper you look to him. You need to have your own value. Make him feel like losing you would be his loss.]

[You silly girl! Don’t be an accessory. Be an asset he can’t afford to lose.]

[Make him see that you’re not just a woman who keeps him company at night but someone who can stand beside him when he takes over the world.]

After I sent my little piece of advice, I turned off my phone.

Winnie was just a pawn. I had been funding her since her junior year of high school, all without her knowing.

Under the identity of “Ellie,” I had guided her transformation from a tacky small-town girl into an elegant socialite. I controlled everything, right down to how she looked and acted.

She thought she had met a life-changing mentor and believed she was the heroine who defied fate and rewrote her destiny.

She had no idea she was just a pawn. I had spent five years grooming her to take down Brodie’s hypocrisy and arrogance.

That evening, Brodie indeed came home with a dark face.

“God, so annoying!” He hurled his suit jacket onto the couch.

I walked over and reached out to massage his temples.

I asked gently, “What’s wrong? Did you have a rough day at work?”

He gripped my hand so hard that my wrist ached.

“It’s that idiot Winnie, of all people!”

He looked irritated and disgusted. He did not even realize he was venting to me about the woman he was cheating with.

“I brought her along to meet a few clients. Now she’s walking around like she’s my wife. Today she tried to stick her nose into my contract for the Westbrook project! What does she know?”

I looked down so he would not see the coldness in my eyes.

Then, I softly said, “Don’t get so worked up. It’s not a bad thing for a girl to have a little ambition. She just idolizes you so much and wants to keep up with you. That’s why she got a little carried away.”

I played it off like Winnie was just some young girl looking up to a successful man.

It was the perfect image of a clueless, devoted wife.

Brodie’s expression softened. He went from being irritated to being smug.

He touched my face, looking pleased. “That’s my wife! You’re so understanding.”

Then, he leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead.

His tone was arrogant. He said, “With a good woman like you taking care of everything at home, I’m living the dream.”

He believed that I did not know anything about his little affair with Winnie.

On the outside, I smiled and let him kiss my forehead.

Deep down, I was sneering.

He had better enjoy it while it lasted. Soon, he would not have a thing left to his name.

Late that night, I finished tending to Rosalind and Jeremy.

Just because I was a little slow, Rosalind called me a barren cow.

I was unbothered. I just smiled and tucked her in. “Rosalind, why don’t you get some sleep?”

I was silently counting down.

‘Thirty days, twenty-nine days…’

…

Back in my study, I opened my laptop and went over this month’s family assets.

A seven-figure stock dividend from Brodie’s company was about to hit the account. It was the single most critical piece of my plan.

It was finally time.

I pulled out another phone and brought up a number I had never used before. I composed a text message and sent it to Winnie.

[Do you want to know who really matters more to Brodie? You, or his precious little wife?]

After sending it, I waited patiently for five minutes before sending the second message.

[Early next month, a seven-figure stock dividend is hitting his account. Legally, half of that belongs to his wife. So take a guess. Whose pocket is it going into?]

Finally, I sent the bait that would seal the deal.

[A man loving you isn’t about how many bags he buys you. It’s about whether he’s willing to take a real financial hit for you. It’s about whether he’s got the guts to move money that should belong to his wife into your name.]

I had handed her the knife. It was up to her to decide how deep to cut.