Betrayed by Husband and Best Friend, I Destroyed Them

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On our fifth anniversary, I closed the project deal and came back to the capital early, wanting nothing more than to surprise Bartholomew. What I walked into instead was his affair.

The bedroom light flickered, dim and unsteady. Through the crack in the door, I watched my best friend Vivien drape herself over Bartholomew's shoulders, gasping softly.

I froze in place. My heart seized.

Vivien's fingers traced a slow line down Bartholomew's chest, her voice thick with triumph.

Bartholomew, do you thinkKay might suddenly come home?

So what if she does.

Bartholomew scoffed, his voice saturated with contempt.

She's out on a deal today. Won't be back before midnight. Besides, Kay is hopeless. Gullible beyond saving. She'd believe anything I told her. She'd never suspect a thing.

Vivien laughed, pleased with herself, her red lips parting and closing.

True. She still doesn't have a clue. Back when she had that car accident and was hemorrhaging after the miscarriage, her blood type was rare. I was the only match. I disappeared on purpose, never showed up to give the transfusion. Afterward I told her my old condition had flared up and I'd collapsed. She felt so sorry for me she nearly cried herself sick.

My blood turned to ice. My breath stopped. Every ounce of strength drained from my body, and I could barely stay on my feet.

Back then, when the car accident left me hemorrhaging and close to death, she was the only one with my blood type.

I'd used the last of my strength to call her. She choked back sobs and promised she was on her way.

But by the time I lost consciousness, she still hadn't come.

In the end, the baby didn't survive. I barely did either.

Afterward, she came to me with red-rimmed eyes, told me her old illness had flared up and she'd fainted, so she couldn't make it in time.

I swallowed the grief of losing my child. I felt for her. I comforted her.

And yet I was the one who had donated a kidney to save her life.

After the surgery, she'd held me and wept until she couldn't breathe.

Kay, you're the only family I have in this world. No matter what happens, no matter how dangerous it gets, I would throw myself in harm's way without a second thought. I would die to save you.

But it turned out every last one of those promises was a lie.

I'd put my own body on the line to save her, and she wanted me dead.

My nails dug into my palms until blood seeped through, but that pain was nothing compared to the crushing ache in my chest. Not even a thousandth of it.

Vivien's voice, breathless and laced with desire, cut through my thoughts, brazen and gloating.

The one who drove into her was my brother. I thought you'd be furious, but you didn't blame him at all. Didn't even send him to prison!

Bartholomew curved his lips and kissed her, intimate and close.

Prison? That was nothing but a formality. I wasn't going to send your brother to rot behind bars over a baby that's already gone. You're the one I care about most. The one who matters.

Vivien pressed closer, murmuring softly,

But knowing her, if she finds out, won't she lose it?

Bartholomew let out a cold laugh. Lose it over what? She has no power, no connections. Without me, she can't survive.

The words detonated inside my skull, and the cold spread through every limb, every bone.

The person behind the accident that killed my baby and nearly destroyed me was Vivien's brother.

The boy I had loved and treated like my own flesh and blood.

What I never could have imagined was that Bartholomew had known the truth all along.

Back then, the accident had been severe. Three broken ribs. Three days unconscious.

He had held me with red-rimmed eyes, tight against his chest, and sworn to me word by word:

Kay, I promise you. I will avenge you and our child. I will make sure that animal rots in prison for the rest of his life. He will pay the most devastating price.

But now I knew the truth. He had never intended to avenge our child. He had been shielding the person responsible the entire time. While he held me and whispered comfort, he had been laughing at how stupid and naive I was.

Hatred, despair, betrayal. They crashed over me all at once and dragged me under.

I lost all control. I slammed the door open and charged inside like I'd lost my mind.

The second Bartholomew saw me, his expression changed. He grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around Vivien, and pulled her into his arms. His eyes cut toward me, sharp and warning.

Get out!

Vivien burrowed into his chest on instinct. Her eyes reddened, and the tears fell on cue, her face the picture of innocence.

She wouldn't meet my eyes. Her words came out halting and fractured.

Kay, let me explain. It's not what you think

Not what I think?

I laughed, hollow and wrecked, and cut her off.

Then what is it? That you stood by and watched me nearly die on the operating table? That your brother drove his car into me and killed my baby? And meanwhile, you were sleeping with my husband?

I turned to Bartholomew. My heart felt like it was splitting apart.

Bartholomew Vance, can you look our child in the eye and say you did right by them?

Bartholomew's face went completely dark. He lashed out at me, voice like a whip.

Kay Simmons, are you done?! It's over and done with. Do you have to keep dragging it up? It was one baby that didn't make it. Is that really worth all this?

Besides, Neville Pruitt was punished. After it happened, I grounded him for two weeks.

That one sentence killed the last flicker of anything I had left.

Is that worth all this? That was your child. A baby I'd carried for three months.

Tears poured down my face. In that accident, I'd broken three ribs, lost the baby, and the person who did it got grounded for two weeks.

Bartholomew went still for a few seconds. Something shifted behind his eyes.

Vivien met my gaze, and the corner of her mouth curled upward, barely perceptible.

Kay, that baby just wasn't meant to be. You can't blame Neville for that

Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head, and the last thread of reason snapped clean.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I raised my hand and brought it down with everything I had, slapping Vivien across the face.

Vivien hit the floor from the slap, clutching her face, staring up at me in disbelief.

Kay Simmons, you've lost your mind!

Bartholomew's expression darkened. He lunged forward and shoved me aside so hard

I slammed into the wall. Pain exploded through my spine and my vision went black at the edges.

He didn't spare me a single glance. Instead, he gathered Vivien into his arms, cradling her like she was made of glass,

Vivien, are you hurt anywhere?

I braced myself against the wall and steadied my legs. Watching him shield her, tears blurred everything, and something in my chest felt like it had been ripped clean out.

I've lost my mind?

Bartholomew frowned, his eyes full of nothing but disappointment,

When did you become so vicious? So cruel? You don't act anything like a Vance wife should.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron, and laughed. A hollow, wretched sound.

Then Vivien's face drained of color. She clutched her stomach, whimpering softly,

Bartholomew, my stomach hurts so much. Our baby

His eyes went wide. He scooped her up instantly and turned toward the door.

Her words detonated inside my skull.

I stepped in front of them. I stared, unable to process what I'd just heard, and a mouthful of blood rose in my throat and spilled past my lips.

She's pregnant?

Vivien peeked out from Bartholomew's arms, crying her delicate, pitiful tears,

Kay, the baby is innocent

Bartholomew looked at me. Not a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

Yes. Vivien is pregnant. You can't conceive. The Vance family needs an heir.

One sentence, and the cold sank into every bone in my body.

He resented me for not being able to carry a child.

But years ago, when a rival family came for his life, I was the one who threw myself in front of the blade meant for him.

I didn't even know I was pregnant until I was in the hospital. The baby didn't survive. The knife damaged my uterus, and the doctors said conceiving again would be close to impossible.

Still, I tried. Hundreds of fertility injections. Months of agony. All to give him a child.

Against every odd, I finally conceived. Everyone was overjoyed. And then Vivien's brother killed my baby.

Bartholomew knew all of this. Every last detail of my pain. And now he used the cruelest words he could find and drove them straight into my heart.

He kept talking, casual, offhand, as though he were bestowing some magnificent gift.

I promised you the position of Mrs. Vance would always be yours. No one can replace you. I won't go back on my word.

Once the baby is born, it'll be registered under your name. You'll raise it. Consider the child your compensation. You'll still be the only mistress of the Vance household.

I broke. Laughter tore out of me, ragged and unhinged, while tears poured down my face and my whole body shook beyond my control.

Enough!

Bartholomew's face twisted with impatience.

We'll talk when you've calmed down.

He didn't look at me again. He carried Vivien out and the door swung shut behind them.

BANG. The sound rattled through the empty room.

I collapsed onto the cold floor and sobbed until my lungs burned and my throat felt shredded.

I didn't know how long I lay there. Only that by the end, something inside me had gone completely still.

After a long time, I wiped my face dry and drove straight to the most prestigious law firm in the city.

I want a divorce. Draft me a divorce agreement.

I sat across the desk, my voice flat. Dead water.

Lottie Fox was a friend I'd met through work and a senior partner at the firm.

The second the words left my mouth, her pen froze mid-stroke. She stared at me.

Divorce? Kay, what kind of joke is this? It's not April Fools'.

I'm not joking.

I kept my eyes down. My voice was barely a whisper.

Bartholomew cheated.

Lottie went rigid. Her pen clattered onto the desk.

Him? How could he cheat?

I let out a bitter half-laugh. Every breath sent a fresh tremor through my fingertips, and the hollow ache behind my ribs wouldn't stop.

Just get the agreement done as fast as you can.

Lottie didn't push further. She typed up the document quickly and slid the divorce agreement across the desk.

Based on the paperwork you brought, he leaves the marriage with nothing.

I picked up the agreement. My fingers trembled.

When Bartholomew proposed, he'd written out that document himself, swearing to me with absolute solemnity.

Kay, if I ever wrong you, I'll give you everything I have.

He was so certain I would never leave. So confident that my love for him would never fade.

But he forgot. I was someone who loved fiercely and cut just as clean. The man I loved was the boy who once treated me like I was his whole world.

I blinked away the last of my tears, took the divorce agreement, and walked out of the firm.

Once I was in the car, I dialed the number of Bartholomew Vance's fiercest rival.

Mr. Delgado. I have a business proposition. Interested?

Irvin Delgado let out a low laugh, his tone lazy and unhurried,

Is Mrs. Vance fishing for intel on her husband's behalf, or coming to negotiate a truce?

Neither.

I stared out the window. My eyes were cold and lightless.

I want you to destroy Bartholomew Vance.

Silence on the other end.

I continued,

The Southgate Project is in my hands. If you're willing to work together, I can convince the investors to give Delgado Group the contract.

You know whoever lands it becomes untouchable in this city. In the entire industry.

Irvin's voice carried a new edge of curiosity,

A deal like that, and you'd hand it to me? Had a fight with Mr. Vance?

My gaze hardened, every word precise,

A man who cheats on me deserves everything that's coming to him.

A few seconds of silence. When Irvin spoke again, there was genuine admiration in his voice,

Ms. Simmons. I look forward to our partnership.

I hung up and texted my private investigator.

Look into Vivien Pruitt's brother for me.

Between now and the day the divorce was final, I would find every last piece of evidence. And I would make him pay.

After everything was done, I went home. I stood in the place I'd lived for five years, looked at everything around me, and felt nothing but the absurdity of it all.

I didn't know how long I stood there before the door opened. Bartholomew walked toward me, frowning.

The jasmine perfume Vivien always wore reached me before he did.

Have you come to your senses?

He took off his jacket like nothing had happened, waiting for me to say I accepted them.

I let out a bitter laugh. Looking at this stranger wearing my husband's face sent a dull ache through my chest.

I didn't speak. I slipped the divorce agreement behind the gift registry and held it out to him.

His brow creased. He snatched it from me impatiently.

What now? Who's that sour face for? If you want something, just say it. Bags, watches, jewelry. I can get you whatever you want.

I lowered my head, a hollow smile pulling at my lips. In his eyes, every emotion I had was just me being difficult. Every wound could be paid off.

I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat and pushed the papers toward him, my voice eerily calm.

Bartholomew, sign this. Consider it my compensation.

He glanced down, assuming I was throwing a tantrum and needed gifts to settle me down.

After all, whenever he'd upset me in the past, it always took a pile of presents to coax me back. He figured now was no different.

He flipped to the first page. A full spread of luxury items. He didn't so much as blink before signing his name.

Kay, stop being upset. You know you'll always be Mrs. Vance. The promises I made you will never change.

He started to hand the signed pages back.

I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, the pain making my hands shake. I turned to the next page and pushed it in front of him again.

Sign this one too.

Confusion flickered across his face, and he was about to look more carefully when his phone rang.

It was Vivien. On the other end, her voice was choked with tears, saying she'd had a nightmare and was scared.

Bartholomew's composure cracked in an instant. He dropped the papers and turned to leave.

I stepped in front of him, my voice cold.

It's just a signature. It won't keep you from running to her.

Seeing I wouldn't budge, he scrawled his name and bolted out the door without even grabbing his coat.

I watched his retreating back, then looked down at his signature on the divorce agreement. The last trace of warmth in my chest went dark.

Everyone in our circle knew he'd treated me like a princess.

We'd walked from the innocence of our school days all the way to the altar.

Five years ago, the wedding that stopped the city. Millions spent. Fireworks filling the sky. He knelt before me and swore on his life that I would be the only one.

Now I knew how cheap his promises were, how short a shelf life his love carried.

I gathered the papers and gripped them until my knuckles went white.

Then I turned and walked upstairs to the bedroom to pack.

Some time later, noise rose from the first floor. I went downstairs.

Bartholomew had Vivien tucked against his chest, giving instructions to the household staff.

Vivien stood there with red-rimmed eyes, looking fragile enough to snap.

When she saw me, her body flinched. She dropped her gaze, her voice a teary, quivering whisper.

Kay, I really didn't want to intrude. But I kept having nightmares, and Bartholomew was afraid something might happen to me, so he

But I promise, I don't want a title. I don't want anything. I just want to carry this baby safely to term, and the moment it's born, I'll leave. I won't cause you any trouble.

The more she spoke, the more agitated she became, pressing a hand to her chest as a violent cough overtook her.

Bartholomew's expression changed instantly. He pulled Vivien into his arms, then whipped his head toward me, his voice sharp with accusation.

Vivien is your best friend. She belongs here. Stop giving her that cold look and scaring her.

A bitter laugh escaped me. From start to finish, I hadn't said a single word. And somehow, I was the one at fault.

Bartholomew, did I say one word?

He froze for a few seconds. His jaw twitched, his mouth opening and closing before he managed to speak.

Kay, stop being petty. Vivien is carrying my child. It's not safe for her out there. Starting today, she stays here. I give you my word, the moment the baby is born, I'll send her abroad.

I stood rooted to the spot, watching the husband I had loved for years bring another woman into our home right in front of me.

Watching the best friend I'd once risked my life to save, the woman I'd treated like family, waltz through my front door to take everything that was mine.

I stared at the two of them, and the cold swallowed me whole.

I bit down on the soft flesh of my cheek to keep myself conscious, then turned and walked back to the bedroom, one step at a time.

From the living room drifted the low, tender murmur of their voices, and every syllable carved into me like a blade drawn slow across what was left of my heart.

The next morning, I had barely made it downstairs when I saw Vivien lounging on my favorite spot on the couch, wearing the silk nightgown Bartholomew had given me for my birthday.

He was peeling cherries by hand, feeding them to her one by one, his fingertips brushing the juice from the corner of her lips with a tenderness that turned my stomach.

Slow down. You're like a little kitten begging for treats.

Bartholomew, you're so good to me.

I gave a mocking smile."Indeed, how about I divorce Bartholomew and the two of you get married?"

Vivien ducked her head, coy and blushing, but the moment she spotted me, she flinched like a startled rabbit. She scrambled to her feet, tripping over herself to apologize.

Kay, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wear your clothes or sit in your spotI'll go change right now.

The tears spilled as she spoke, perfectly timed, perfectly pitiful.

Bartholomew pulled her back down immediately, his cold gaze cutting toward me like a blade.

Kay, can you show a little class? Vivien is pregnant. She's fragile. It's a nightgown and a seat. Do you really have to make her feel this way?

I stared at the scene in front of me, and all I felt was the absurdity of it.

My husband, in my home, hand-feeding another woman fruit.

My best friend, wrapped in my things, sitting in my place. And I was the one expected to be gracious about it.

Looking at her now, I started to wonder whether the girl I remembered had ever been real.

Back in school, when other kids picked on me, Vivien had grabbed a broom and charged in to shield me. Anyone who touches Kay goes through me first.

When my first boyfriend broke my heart, she stayed up with me until dawn, drinking and talking. Forget him. Men are nothing. I'll always be here.

After I donated my kidney for her, she had dragged herself out of her own hospital bed to collapse at the side of mine, sobbing until she passed out, gripping my hand.

For the rest of my life, you will be the person closest to my heart.

I had believed it then. I believed friendship outlasted love. I believed she was the light in my darkest hours.

But now she had taken my husband, was carrying his child, had moved into my home, and still had the nerve to play the victim.

Bartholomew, my voice trembled, but I forced it steady, this is my home. What gives you the right?

Vivien only cried harder.

Kay, please don't say thatit's all my fault. You can yell at me, hit me, anything, just don't fight with Bartholomew. I just love him too much, and I can't give up this baby.

Enough!

Bartholomew's voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Kay, if you keep pushing Vivien, don't blame me for what happens next.

I closed my eyes. There was nothing left to say. I turned and went back upstairs.

The moment I was back in my room, a message arrived with the driving records from the night of the accident, tracing Vivien's brother Neville's route.

I opened my laptop. The first thing that filled the screen was our photo, the three of us together.

Almost involuntarily, I clicked into an old folder. It was full of memories, all of us, from before.

I scrolled through the pictures one by one, and every swipe felt like a thousand needles driven into my chest.

I didn't understand how we had ended up here.

My thoughts were still churning when the door opened. Vivien walked in carrying a cup of warm water, an apologetic look painted on her face.

Kay, I know you're upset. I made you some soup. Please don't let the anger make you sick.

I didn't want to acknowledge her.

But she leaned in close, and her hand jerked. The entire bowl of soup tipped onto my arm. Scalding heat seared through my skin, and the breath hissed between my teeth.

I shoved her away on instinct. She stumbled backward, and the tears fell instantly.

Kay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!

As she spoke, she dropped to her knees in a show of panic, gathering the broken shards of the bowl, and dragged a piece of porcelain deliberately across her finger. A bead of blood welled up and rolled down.

My arm was swollen and angry red. I had no patience for her theatrics. I turned toward the bathroom to run cold water over the burn.

Before I could take a step, Bartholomew came rushing in, drawn by the commotion.

One look at the scene and his expression twisted.

Kay, you!

He went straight to Vivien, pulling her up from the floor, cradling her bleeding finger with exaggerated care while her eyes stayed swollen and red from crying.

She kept her head low, tears streaming down her face like rain on blossoms.

Bartholomew, don't blame Kay. Maybe she didn't like the soup I made, so she knocked it overI made a mess of her room, but please don't be angry with her. She didn't mean it.

His face went dark. He didn't even glance at me. He seized my wrist and snarled in my face.

Do you have any idea how long Vivien stood in that kitchen making soup for you? You couldn't even be grateful, and then you let her kneel on the floor picking up broken porcelain? How can you be this cruel? Apologize to her. Now.

She spilled it on me herself!

The burn screamed against my skin, but I kept my voice cold and steady.

Let go of me!

I couldn't stand looking at either of their faces for another second. I just needed the pain to stop.

And you still have the nerve to argue! Is this how you carry yourself as Mrs. Vance?

My defiance sent him over the edge. He called the bodyguards and had them drag me out to the garden.

Take her outside. She doesn't come back in until she apologizes to Vivien.

The bodyguards dragged me outside, and I stumbled hard into a marble pillar. The impact sent tremors of pain through my whole body.

Bartholomew carried Vivien past me, his eyes churning with rage. He didn't so much as glance at the blisters already rising on my arm. He gave me one cold scoff, then turned and took her to get bandaged.

Let her learn her lesson. She doesn't set foot inside until I'm back.

Vivien looked at me from the cradle of his arms, triumph written all over her face.

The bodyguards had their orders. Every door was locked within seconds.

I fought with everything I had, but it was useless.

The midday sun was brutal. An hour passed. Sweat drenched my hair and ran into my eyes, and the burn on my arm had gone past pain into numbness.

My legs buckled with every step. I kept telling myself to hold on, just hold on.

I don't know how long it had been when the world went black and I hit the ground.

When I opened my eyes again, the smell of antiseptic filled my nose.

The nurse standing by my bed saw me stir. Her brow creased.

Ms. Simmons, you really need to take better care of yourself. You're pregnant, and on top of that you've got heatstroke and a burn injury!

My mind went blank.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, disbelief flooding through me. Pregnant.

Tears fell without warning, landing on the back of my hand, scalding hot. I flinched.

This baby. The worst possible timing.

I squeezed my eyes shut and dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to force myself to think clearly.

After a long time, I opened my eyes. Whatever had been alive in them before was gone. I spoke to the nurse, my voice raw.

Schedule a procedure for me. Five days from now. I want a termination.

The nurse froze.

The baby is perfectly healthy. Are you sure you don't want to keep it?

I nodded. I'm sure.

She didn't say another word. She turned and went to process the paperwork.

I lay on the hospital bed, perfectly still. My fingertips rested against my stomach. I mouthed the words I'm sorry without making a sound.

Bartholomew heard I'd been hospitalized. He assumed it was just heatstroke. He was waiting for my apology, and when none came, he didn't bother visiting. Not once.

Outside my door, the nurses kept their voices low, but every word carried through to me, sharp and clear.

That Ms. Pruitt in the VIP suite, the one Mr. Vance adores? Ever since she got pregnant, he's been spoiling her rotten. He's at the hospital every single day, stocking her room with high-end supplements, holding her arm when she walks like she might shatter if she trips.

Everyone knows. Every socialite in the city envies her. Mr. Vance used to dote on Ms. Simmons like that, remember? And look what happened. Dropped her just like that. Now she's lying in a standard room, nobody checking on her, and he hasn't even come by once. How things change.

Ms. Pruitt is the one he really loves. Ms. Simmons? Old news. The title of Mrs. Vance is just an empty name at this point.

A bitter laugh scraped out of my throat. My eyes burned red, and tears slid down in silence.

Five years. From teenage sweethearts to marriage vows, from a wedding that cost millions to promises of forever. None of it held up against a few of Vivien's tears, against the so-called Vance heir in her belly.

I curled into myself on the hospital bed, biting down on my lip so hard it split, tasting copper, refusing to let a single sound escape.

Two days later, I went home. The moment I stepped through the door, Vivien walked out of the bedroom. She looked down at me from across the room,

a vicious smile curling at the corner of her lips, her eyes full of mockery and contempt.

Kay, your life must be pretty miserable right now, huh? Abandoned by your own husband, betrayed by your best friend, stuck in that dingy hospital room without a single person to take care of you. Watching Bartholomew dote on me hand and foot. You must hate it so much you could scream.

I stared at her coldly, unwilling to waste a single word on her. She was ugly to me now. Repulsive.

When I didn't respond, her smile only widened. She leaned down slowly, bringing her mouth close to my ear.

Did you really believe, all those years ago, that I was actually sick? That I needed a kidney transplant?

She let out a soft laugh, her voice dripping with amusement.

Kay, you're hopeless. Truly, pathetically hopeless. I was never sick. The kidney transplant was a lie I made up to trick you.

My eyes went wide. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. I stared at her, unable to process what I was hearing.

What did you just say?

Vivien straightened up, arms crossed, her expression brazen.

I just couldn't stand you. Ever since we were kids, you were always the golden girl. The money, the looks, everyone orbiting around you. Even Bartholomew married you in the end. I hated it. That smug, charitable little act of yours, like you were doing the world a favor by existing. So I faked being sick. I tricked you into giving me your kidney. Watching you lie on that operating table, risking your life for me without a second thought? That felt good.

You knew. You knew how much damage donating a kidney would do to my body. You knew I was risking my life to save you

My voice shook. My whole body shook. Back then, I'd gone against my family's wishes, insisted on donating my kidney to her, and spent the better part of a year recovering from the surgery.

I had treated her like a sister. Given her everything I had. And all of it had been repaid with a carefully orchestrated lie.

So what?

Vivien scoffed, her eyes turning vicious. Why should you get to have everything? Why should Bartholomew love you? I wanted to destroy your life, steal your man, drag you down from your pedestal and grind you into the dirt. I wanted you to feel every ounce of what I felt. That car accident, the miscarriage? I deliberately didn't give blood. I wanted you to die. Too bad you're hard to kill. But it worked out anyway. You can't have children now, and that gave me my opening. Bartholomew only loves me and the baby in my belly. You're nothing.

You're insane! I was shaking with rage. Vivien, aren't you afraid I'll tell Bartholomew every single thing you just said?

Tell Bartholomew? Vivien threw her head back and laughed like she'd just heard the funniest joke of her life. Kay, do you honestly think he'd believe you? I'm the only one he sees now. He believes every word out of my mouth. You could scream the truth until your throat bled, and he'd just think you were jealous. That you were making a scene. Have you forgotten? He stopped believing you a long time ago.

I lost all control. I put everything I had into the palm of my hand and slapped her across the face.

Vivien, you're nothing but a homewrecker!

I screamed it with bloodshot eyes, my chest heaving violently. The weakness from the pregnancy sent dark spots flooding across my vision.

The slap snapped Vivien's head to the side. She clutched her cheek, a flash of something cold and dangerous in her eyes. She was about to lunge at me, but then she heard footsteps and switched instantly to a wounded, pitiful expression, tears spilling on command.

Bartholomew had heard the commotion and come running from the study.

He pushed open the door and saw Vivien crumpled on the floor, hand pressed to her face.

Bartholomew, Kay hit me, she called me a homewrecker, she said she'd hurt our baby

He rushed in, panic written across his face, and gathered Vivien into his arms.

The second he saw the handprint on her cheek, his expression turned to stone.

Kay, you hit her?

He strode toward me and shoved me hard.

I was already weak, already pregnant. I had no strength to resist. I hit the floor.

The baby seemed to sense my fury. Pain tore through my abdomen without warning, so sharp that cold sweat broke across my skin.

Bartholomew didn't even glance at me on the ground. Every fiber of his attention was on Vivien in his arms, his hands moving gently over her, checking for injuries.

Vivien, does anything hurt? Is the baby okay?

Vivien nestled against his chest, crying prettily, and pointed a trembling finger at me.

Bartholomew, I just wanted to welcome her home and apologize. But she hit me the second she saw me, and she said she'd make sure our baby dies a horrible death.

Bartholomew turned to look at me. The fury in his eyes was consuming.

Kay, how can you be this cruel? Vivien is pregnant. She came to see you out of kindness, and you hit her? You cursed my child?

He crouched down, seized my chin, and forced my face up to meet his. Every word came out glacial.

Apologize to Vivien. Right now. Or I will make this city unlivable for you.

I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my lower abdomen and lifted my head to look at this man I no longer recognized. A hollow laugh escaped me.

Apologize for what? For every humiliation I'd endured? For my dead child? For the trust I'd given that was thrown back in my face?

I looked at him with empty eyes, my voice raw. I did nothing wrong. I will never apologize.

Bartholomew's face twisted. The rage in his eyes flared hotter. He opened his mouth to speak, but the agony in my abdomen surged again, my vision went black, and I was gone.

The doctor said the fainting was caused by the shock to my pregnancy combined with my weakened state. He stressed repeatedly that I needed complete rest for the remainder of my term and that I absolutely could not endure any more stress.

I nodded in silence. When the IV was finished, I prepared to leave the hospital.

The moment I stepped through the front doors, the Vance family driver was already standing at attention beside the car.

Ms. Simmons, Old Mr. Vance asked me to take you directly to the family estate. Tonight is the annual Vance family banquet.

I was ushered into the car, and it drove straight to the Vance estate.

When I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the living room was full of Vance elders and relatives. The laughter and chatter died the instant I crossed the threshold.

Every pair of eyes turned on me at once, some dripping with contempt, others ice-cold, others openly mocking.

Well, well, if it isn't Mrs. Vance herself. I was starting to think you wouldn't show.

The relative's voice was razor-sharp, her gaze undisguised disgust.

Five years of marriage and not a single child to show for it. What's the point of keeping the title of Mrs. Vance?

Exactly. The Vance line has been single-heir for generations. We can't let it die out. Marrying a woman who can't bear children is a joke.

The barbs came one after another, each one a needle driven straight into the rawest part of me.

I clenched my fists, nails biting deep into my palms, and forced my spine straight. I was about to fire back.

Before a single word left my mouth, Bartholomew walked in. Tall, immaculate in a tailored suit, his arm wrapped tight around Vivien as they crossed the room together.

The moment the two of them appeared, the entire room fell silent. Every gaze locked onto them.

Bartholomew swept his eyes across the room. When they passed over me, they didn't linger for even a fraction of a second. Instead, he took Vivien's hand and walked to Old Mr. Vance.

Grandfather, everyone, I have an announcement. Vivien is carrying a Vance heir. She's two months along.

The room erupted, then flooded with congratulations.

Wonderful! Bartholomew, the Vance family finally has an heir!

Ms. Pruitt is truly blessed. You can just tell she's the lucky type. I'm sure it'll be a healthy baby boy.

Their eyes slid toward me, brimming with disdain.

See? The one who can give the Vance family a child is the one who matters. You should do yourself a favor and step aside.

I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached. The pain in my chest had long since gone numb.

Then Bartholomew led Vivien to the hostess's chair and gently helped her sit down.

Vivien, you're pregnant. Sit here where it's comfortable. Don't tire yourself out.

Vivien put on a show of bashful reluctanceBartholomew, that's Kay's seat. I couldn't possibly

Why not?

Bartholomew cut her off, his gaze sweeping over me, cold and dismissive.

It's just a chair. There's no yours or hers.

A bitter laugh escaped me. The hostess's seat of the Vance family, and all it took was one careless sentence for him to hand it to Vivien.

I turned and walked toward the door, spine rigid, refusing to let a single tear fall in front of any of them.

I had barely made it past the estate gates when hurried footsteps sounded behind me. Vivien caught up.

She stepped in front of me, triumph and venom written across her face without the slightest attempt to hide it.

Leaving just like that, Kay? You must be seething inside.

Vivien folded her arms across her chest, blocking my path, her lips curling into a vicious smile.

Bartholomew announced my pregnancy in front of the whole family. Every single one of them accepts me now. That seat belongs to me sooner or later. Do yourself a favor and disappear.

I had no interest in engaging with her. I stepped to the side, trying to go around.

Move.

Vivien's hand shot out and locked around my wrist, her eyes full of cold malice.

Kay, since you won't step aside on your own, don't blame me for what comes next. If you won't destroy me, I'll destroy you first!

I struggled, trying to wrench free, but her grip was iron-tight.

In the middle of my pulling away, Vivien's expression shifted. She threw herself backward, straight toward the road behind her.

A car was speeding past at that exact moment. It struck Vivien and she hit the ground with a piercing scream.

Bartholomew charged over like a man possessed. The moment he saw Vivien crumpled on the ground, his pupils contracted and his voice shook apart.

Vivien! Vivien, are you okay? Don't scare me!

She lay in his arms, face white as paper, both hands clutching her stomach, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Bartholomew, I'm finedon't blame Kay. If she doesn't want me around, I can leave. But whywhy would she try to hurt my baby? Just because my brother accidentally hit her with his car, she wants revenge nowthe baby is innocent

Bartholomew's head snapped up toward me. Those eyes that had once been full of tenderness held nothing now but towering rage and hatred. He roared at me.

Kay Simmons, she's pregnant and you did this to her? You've lost your mind!

Then he barked at the bodyguards rushing up behind him.

Restrain her! Don't let her get away!

The bodyguards were on me instantly, ignoring my resistance, seizing my arms and binding them with rope.

The cord bit into my wrists until they burned. Cramps knotted through my lower abdomen in wave after wave, but Bartholomew never once looked at me. He scooped Vivien into his arms and ran for the exit like a man gone mad.

The bodyguards shoved me into a car and followed, all the way to the hospital.

The surgery light was on. Bartholomew stood outside, radiating a cold, violent fury.

When he saw them bring me over, he closed the distance in three strides, seized my collar, and fixed me with a stare that could flay me alive.

Kay Simmons, if anything happens to Vivien or my child, I will bury you. I will make you pay in ways you can't imagine.

He was gripping me so tight I could barely breathe. But I laughed.

Are you going to kill me, Bartholomew? For your mistress and her bastard child?

Shut your mouth!

My words only made him tighten his grip. The hatred in his eyes was enough to drown me.

Don't you dare talk about Vivien and my child that way!

Right then, the surgery light went off. The doctor stepped out and said Vivien had sustained only superficial injuries. The baby was fine.

The tension drained from Bartholomew's body. He let go of me and rushed straight into the ward.

When Vivien came to and saw me bound off to the side, she immediately grasped Bartholomew's hand, eyes glistening, and pleaded on my behalf.

Bartholomew, please don't blame Kay. She didn't mean it. She was just upset. Let her go, please.

The more gracious and forgiving she pretended to be, the more Bartholomew pitied her, and the more he despised me.

He locked his gaze on me, cold enough to cut bone.

If Vivien hadn't begged for you, I would never have let this go. Kay Simmons, you are truly a disappointment.

Disappointed?

I pulled my lips into something that wasn't quite a smile.

Let me make something clear, Bartholomew. She is your mistress. The child she's carrying is illegitimate. Nothing changes that.

His face went ashen.

Still running your mouth. Take her to the storage room and lock her in. She can think about what she's done. No one opens that door without my order, and no one brings her food or water.

I didn't push her! She threw herself into the road! Bartholomew, you can't do this to me!

I fought with everything I had, thrashing to break free, but the bodyguards were too strong. They dragged me out of the ward by force.

The storage room was damp and freezing. Dust and mildew thickened the air. The door locked behind me, and everything went black.

I curled up on the cold concrete floor. The pain in my stomach was worse now, as if a fist were tearing through my insides. Sweat soaked through my clothes. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.

I pounded on the door with everything I had left, screaming until my voice cracked. Nothing came back. Not a sound.

The pain dragged me under again and again, consciousness slipping away only to be ripped back by another wave. In the dark, there was nothing but endless despair.

The door did not open until the following evening.

I forced myself upright and walked out one step at a time.

The servants I passed sneered and whispered. Not one of them offered a hand.

Back in the bedroom, I turned on my phone. There was a confirmation message from the hospital. My appointment for the termination had been approved.

Two days from now. The same day I would collect my divorce papers.

Just then, an email came through. It was from the private investigator.

Inside was every piece of evidence from my car accident.

Dashcam footage proving Neville Pruitt had driven into me on purpose. A recording of the Pruitt siblings getting their story straight after the fact. Bank transfer records showing Bartholomew had paid to cover it all up and shield the perpetrator. Even Neville's current hiding address, laid out in full.

Finally, every last piece was in my hands.

What they owed me, starting now, I would collect. Every single debt, one by one.

I had just finished saving the evidence the detective sent over when the bedroom door was kicked open.

Bartholomew's face was terrifyingly dark. In his hand was a black sandalwood box.

I knew that box better than anything in this world. After I lost my first child, I had placed the ashes inside it with my own hands.

I shot to my feet, my chest seizing tight, my voice shaking beyond my control.

What are you doing with my child? Give that back to me!

Bartholomew's eyes were ice. He raised the sandalwood box into the air, his fingertips tracing the surface, his tone dripping with menace.

Kay. Apologize to Vivien. For pushing her, for every vicious thing you've said and done. Bow your head and admit you were wrong.

I stared at the urn in his hand, tears flooding my eyes in an instant, but I refused to let them fall.

I didn't push her. She staged the whole thing. I will never apologize! Bartholomew, that is your own flesh and blood. How dare you use him to threaten me!

What wouldn't I dare?

Bartholomew let out a quiet laugh. He slowly opened the lid and set the box on the windowsill.

As long as you refuse to apologize, I'll throw him out right now. He won't even have a place to rest. You know I keep my word.

There was no warmth in his eyes. Not a trace. For Vivien, he would weaponize his own dead child. He would crush the last shred of anything I had left.

My lower abdomen still ached with a dull, throbbing pain. I looked at the sandalwood box, and every ounce of strength drained from my body.

Humiliation and despair crashed over me like a tidal wave. I clenched my fists so hard my nails broke the skin of my palms, blood beading along the crescents.

But in the end, I lowered my head. My voice came out wrecked, barely recognizable.

I'm sorry.

Bartholomew wasn't satisfied. I told you to apologize to Vivien. Look at her and say it.

I turned my head slowly toward Vivien, standing behind Bartholomew, her face a perfect portrait of smugness dressed up as innocence. I forced the words out with everything I had.

Vivien, I'm sorry. I was wrong.

Vivien's lips curled into a smile. She waved her hand with exaggerated magnanimity.

Kay, I don't blame you. We've always been like sisters. I know you just lost your temper in the moment.

Bartholomew's expression eased slightly. He tossed the urn back to me.

Remember what you said today. From now on, know your place. Be the wife the Vance name requires. And don't upset Vivien again.

He paused, looking down at me from on high.

The day after tomorrow is Vivien's birthday gala. I'll announce her pregnancy in front of everyone. But after the child is born, it will be registered under your name. You'll raise it. You'll remain the Vance family's wife in name. That is the most generous arrangement I can offer you.

At the gala, you will hand over the full jewelry set and the Vance family ring to Vivien. Give her and the baby the recognition they deserve.

I laughed. The irony was suffocating. He spoke as if he were tossing scraps to a beggar and expected gratitude in return.

He wanted me to keep the title of Mrs. Vance while raising his mistress's child. That was what he called generous.

I said nothing. I just held the urn against my chest, and scalding tears fell onto my hands, each drop landing like a burn.

Bartholomew, this is the last time I will ever cry in front of you.

He wrapped his arm around Vivien and left without a single glance back.

Two days later, I left the house early. First, I picked up the finalized divorce papers. Then I went to the hospital.

Lying on the operating table, I felt the cold instruments enter my body, felt the child who shared my blood being separated from me piece by piece.

Tears slid down in silence. The pain in my heart had gone numb.

After the procedure, I held myself together long enough to bury both children's ashes side by side.

Then I went back to the house, grabbed the bags I had already packed, and walked out without looking back.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number.

Irvin. I need you to come get me.

Irvin didn't ask questions. He agreed immediately.

Okay. I'm on my way. Wait for me.

After I hung up, I took every piece of evidence the private detective had sent, along with the video of Bartholomew and Vivien together, bundled it all up, and sent it to every major media contact in the capital.

A birthday gift for Ms. Pruitt!

I hit send, and a smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

A second later, my phone rang. Bartholomew. I didn't need to guess. He was calling to rush me to Vivien's birthday gala.

I didn't answer. I stared at his name on the screen and whispered,

Bartholomew, I hope you and Vivien enjoy the gift.

May it destroy you both.