Chapter 1

On my birthday, my husband Jensen gave the Logan Star, a priceless family heirloom promised to me, to his widowed sister-in-law, Isabella.

It wasn't just a gift. It was a public declaration. Isabella was pregnant with his child-the heir I had failed to provide.

His mother, the family matriarch, then announced I was to be moved from our master suite to a smaller wing to give Isabella the space and comfort she "deserved."

Jensen just stood there, telling me to be "reasonable" for the sake of the family legacy. He had chosen his bloodline over our marriage, over me.

He had promised to always choose me, but in that moment, I realized I was just a placeholder, easily discarded for a more "fertile" option. The love I had for him died, replaced by a cold, quiet resolve.

So I smiled, agreed to everything, and walked away. That night, I boarded my private yacht. As it exploded in a fiery wreck at sea, with the world believing I was dead, my father received a single text from me: "It's time." The divorce was final, and the destruction of the Logan empire had just begun.

Chapter 1

My husband, Jensen, gave the Logan Star necklace to Isabella. Not to me, his wife, but to his widowed sister-in-law, in front of everyone. My breath hitched. It was my birthday, and this was his gift.

The Logan Star was a piece of history, a constellation of diamonds and sapphires, promised to me since our engagement. Now, it glittered against Isabella' s pale throat, mocking me. It wasn't just jewelry. It was a symbol of my place in this family, a place that was now violently, irrevocably usurped.

Jensen' s older brother, the golden heir, had died in a freak yachting accident six months ago. The news had shattered the Logan family, but it had also, I now realized, set something dark into motion. Jensen, the younger son, suddenly found himself thrust into the CEO position of Logan Corp, a powerful investment firm built on old money and rigid traditions.

His mother, Cecily Logan, a woman carved from ice and ambition, wasted no time. Her grief for her eldest son was quickly overshadowed by a singular, chilling obsession: the Logan bloodline. She cornered Jensen, her voice a low, insistent hiss I' d overheard through closed doors.

"You must 'care for' Isabella," she commanded, her words like sharp shards of glass. "She carries the legacy. We need an heir. A Logan heir. And you, Jensen, are the only one left to provide it."

Jensen had come to me that night, his eyes shadowed with a strange mix of duty and fear. He' d held my hands, his touch almost pleading. "Harper, it's transactional. A duty. My heart, my love... they belong only to you. This is just to secure the family bloodline. Nothing more."

His words were a flimsy shield, already cracking. I' d wanted to believe him. I' d chosen to believe him.

But then, the shifts began. Subtle at first, like a tide slowly receding. Jensen' s late nights at the office became later. His phone calls, once open and frequent, became guarded. His touch, once eager, turned hesitant, then almost clinical. He' d started spending more time at Isabella' s grief-stricken side, a posture of comfort that quickly morphed into something possessive.

A month ago, Isabella made the announcement. She was pregnant. The news had exploded through the Logan mansion like a bomb. Cecily had beamed, triumph etched into every line of her face. Jensen had looked stunned, then a flicker of pride, quickly masked, crossed his features. My heart had sunk, a lead weight dragging me down.

And now, the Logan Star.

Isabella touched the necklace, her fingers trembling slightly, a performative gesture of humility. "Oh, Cecily. Jensen. I can' t possibly accept this. It' s too much. It belongs to Harper." Her eyes, however, were fixed on me, a triumphant glint hidden beneath a veneer of false modesty.

Cecily, without a moment's hesitation, stepped forward. Her hand, adorned with ancestral rings, clasped Isabella's. "Nonsense, dear Isabella. You are carrying the future of our family. This is where it belongs now. A symbol of your invaluable contribution." Her gaze landed on me, sharp and dismissive. "Harper has had her time."

Jensen stood beside Isabella, his face a mask of discomfort. He wouldn't meet my eyes. The room, filled with hushed guests and opulent decor, felt like a cage closing in around me.

Later that evening, after the last guest had left, Jensen finally found me in the darkened library. The air was thick with the scent of old books and unspoken truths. He looked tired, his shoulders slumped.

"Harper," he began, his voice barely a whisper. "About the necklace..."

I cut him off, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "She smells like you, Jensen."

His head snapped up, his eyes widening. "What?"

"Isabella," I clarified, my gaze piercing him. "She smells like your cologne. The one I bought you last Christmas."

A flush crept up his neck. He stammered, "Harper, you don't understand. She's fragile. She needs support. The pregnancy, it's difficult."

"Is that why you gave her my necklace?" I asked, my voice still unnervingly calm. "Because she's fragile?" My stomach churned, a raw, acidic burn. The very air around him felt tainted.

He took a step closer, reaching for me. "I can get you another one, Harper. A custom piece. Anything you want. More diamonds, larger sapphires."

I recoiled from his touch. "It's not about the diamonds, Jensen."

"Be reasonable, Harper," he pleaded, his voice tinged with frustration. "This is for the family. For the legacy. You understand duty, don't you? Be graceful. Be the bigger person."

Cecily' s voice, sharp and cold, echoed in my mind from a conversation earlier that day. "A true Logan wife secures the bloodline, Harper. You haven't managed even that." She had smiled faintly at Isabella, then turned back to me. "But Isabella, she understands her role. A beautiful, fertile woman."

Then, the true horror. "Perhaps," Cecily had mused, her eyes gleaming with a calculating light, "after the child is born, we can arrange for you to... officially adopt it. It would preserve appearances. A Logan heir, raised by a Logan wife."

My blood ran cold. Adopt Isabella' s child, fathered by my husband? Cecily had then clucked her tongue. "You truly lack the sophistication, Harper. The Logan gravitas. A Frost, through and through."

I remembered all the years. The countless hours I' d spent supporting Jensen, believing in him when his own family saw him as less than his brother. I had poured my heart and soul into our marriage, into this family, only to be deemed "unworthy."

The Logan Star, now around Isabella' s neck, felt like a burning brand on my own skin. It was more than betrayal; it was a public execution of my dignity.

I looked at Jensen, his face a swirl of guilt and self-preservation. A deep, quiet resolve settled over me. "Very well, Jensen," I said, my voice flat, almost serene. "I understand completely."

He blinked, surprised by my sudden compliance. "Harper? You do?"

Cecily, who had quietly entered the library, observed us with a sneer. "See, Jensen? I told you. A little pressure, and she falls in line. A woman knows her place, eventually."

Her words were meant to diminish me, to confirm my defeat. But they only solidified my decision. I was done falling in line.