Chapter 1

The first time I saw evidence of my husband' s affair, it wasn' t through a suspicious text or a whiff of unfamiliar perfume, it was splashed across the internet for the whole world to see. Paparazzi photos, grainy but unmistakable. Ethan Carter, my husband of three years and the formidable head of Carter Industries, was at a parent-child carnival. He was wearing a ridiculous, oversized bear mascot costume, holding the hand of a small boy, and smiling at the woman next to him.

That woman was his ex-fiancée, Isabella, and the boy was their son, Leo.

They looked like a perfect family.

My first instinct was professional. I picked up my phone, my fingers flying across the screen to call the head of Hayes Tech' s PR department.

"There are photos of Ethan Carter circulating online," I said, my voice steady and cold. "I want them gone. Now."

"On it, Ms. Hayes."

But before my team could even mobilize, the photos vanished. I refreshed the page, then another. Nothing. All links led to a 404 error. Within three minutes, every trace of the content was scrubbed from the internet.

A wry laugh escaped my lips. Of course. Ethan Carter was always one step ahead. He would never allow a scandal to tarnish the carefully constructed alliance between Carter Industries and Hayes Tech. Our marriage was, above all else, a business merger.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a car horn blared from the driveway, followed by the faint echo of laughter. I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window of our sterile, modern mansion and looked down.

There he was. The man the business world knew as dignified and decisive, a titan of industry. But now, he was just a father, his hand wrapped around a small boy' s, his face softened with a tenderness I had rarely, if ever, witnessed directed at me. Isabella stood on the boy' s other side, a hesitant smile on her face as she looked up at the house.

I knew all about them. Ethan had never hidden their existence. He told me before we were married, a sterile fact laid out as part of our prenuptial negotiations. An ex-fiancée. A son. A past that was supposed to remain in the past.

"Ethan, is it really appropriate for us to go in like this?" I heard Isabella' s soft, hesitant voice drift up to the window.

I didn' t wait for his answer. I walked to the front door and opened it just as they reached the top step.

My presence cut her off mid-sentence. I fixed my gaze on her, my face a cold, indifferent mask.

"As Ethan Carter' s legal wife, I will raise Leo," I stated, my voice devoid of warmth. "But that doesn' t mean you can disregard your place."

Isabella' s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red, and she immediately lowered her head, her hand tightening around the little boy' s.

"I apologize, Mrs. Carter. It' s just that it' s Children' s Day today, so I brought Leo..."

Before she could finish her pathetic excuse, the little boy, Leo, broke free from his father' s grasp. He rushed forward and kicked my shin, his small face twisted in anger.

"Mean lady!" he cried out, tears welling in his eyes. "You stole my dad!"

A sharp pain shot up my leg. I winced, but I couldn' t bring myself to scold a three-year-old child. I just stared down at him, a strange mix of shock and pity swirling inside me.

"Leo," Ethan said. His voice was stern, but there was no impatience in it, no real anger. It was the gentle chiding of a loving father. "That' s not polite."

He stepped forward and stood between me and his son, effectively shielding the boy. He, Isabella, and Leo. A makeshift family of three. And I was the outsider, the intruder in my own home.

The absurdity of the situation was almost laughable.

I took a deep breath, composing myself and rebuilding the indifferent wall around my heart.

"Ethan Carter," I said, my tone shifting back to the boardroom. "You know our marriage isn' t just about you and me. It' s about Carter Industries and Hayes Tech."

Isabella saw an opening and immediately tried to interject, her voice soft and placating.

"Mrs. Carter, we just..."

I shot her a look that could freeze fire. "When I' m speaking to Ethan Carter, when is it your turn to interrupt?"

She flinched, a warning received and understood.

Ethan sighed, a heavy, weary sound, and bent down to pick up his startled son. He cradled the boy against his chest, a natural, protective gesture.

"Amelia, it was just a carnival. I' ve already handled the paparazzi. There won' t be any impact." His voice was cold, that familiar husky magnetism now laced with a dismissive edge.

My heart tightened. No impact. Of course. In his cold, calculated world of cost-benefit analysis, my feelings didn' t even register as a variable. They were the rounding error, completely insignificant.

I glanced at Isabella and saw the smug, triumphant light in her eyes. She knew she had won this round.

Ethan didn' t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn' t care.

"Amelia, Leo will be staying here tonight. Please ask the housekeeper to prepare a guest room."

I held his gaze, my own eyes like chips of ice. "And her?" I asked, nodding towards the woman who was now clinging to his arm.

Ethan paused for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable. Then he answered, his voice flat and dispassionate.

"She' ll also stay the night."

I nodded slowly. My upbringing, my entire life as Amelia Hayes, the sole heir to the Hayes Tech empire, had trained me to never act like a shrew. I would not give them the satisfaction of a scene.

Later that evening, the sound of laughter echoed up the grand staircase from the guest room downstairs. I could hear Ethan' s deep baritone, Isabella' s high-pitched giggles, and Leo' s childish shrieks of delight.

And I, the legitimate Mrs. Carter, lay alone and sleepless in the vast, empty master bedroom. The silence in my room was a stark contrast to the happy family portrait being painted one floor below.

In the middle of the night, a restless, suffocating feeling in my chest drove me downstairs. I needed a glass of ice water, something cold to shock my system back into its usual state of calm.

As I stood in the darkened kitchen, the glass cool against my palm, a voice slithered out from behind me.

"Mrs. Carter."

It was Isabella. Her voice, once hesitant and timid, was now dripping with triumph.

"Leo is Ethan' s flesh and blood. As long as Leo is around, Ethan and I can never truly be cut apart."

I calmly placed the glass of water on the marble countertop and turned to face her, my height giving me a slight advantage as I looked down at her.

"So?"

My simple, dismissive question seemed to throw her off. Her triumphant expression faltered for a moment, and she took an involuntary step back.

"So, please give him back to me," she pleaded, her act of the desperate lover starting up again. "When we broke up, it was only because I was immature. It wasn' t because we didn' t love each other."

I let out a short, sharp scoff. "Love?" I idly twisted the heavy jade ring on my finger, the ring that symbolized the matriarch of the Carter family. "For people like us, love is the most insignificant thing in the world."

The pure disdain in my voice made her face pale, and her breath hitched.

I chuckled lightly and turned to leave. I had no more time to waste on this woman.

"Amelia Hayes!" she called out suddenly, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. She moved closer, invading my space. "What if he and I... were intimate? Would you still not care?"

With a deliberate slowness, she pulled down the collar of her silk nightgown, revealing a stark, angry-red mark on the pale skin of her collarbone. A hickey.

My fingers clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. But I kept my face a mask of serene calm.

"Fleshly pleasures," I said, my voice bored. "How long can they possibly last?"

I walked away, leaving her standing in the dark kitchen, her face flushed with impotent rage.

Back in my room, I closed the door and leaned against it, my composure finally cracking. My hand unconsciously went to the jade ring, the cold stone a heavy weight on my finger. A symbol of a marriage that was feeling more and more like a cage.

For a man as exceptional, as intelligent, as driven as Ethan Carter, it was almost inevitable. After three years of living under the same roof, sharing a life, I had developed feelings for him. It was a slow, quiet creep, an affection that had grown in the silent spaces of our partnership.

But love is accumulated, piece by piece.

And so is dislike.

Three strikes and you' re out, Ethan Carter. Don' t disappoint me.