Chapter 2

"Well, well, look what we have here."

Jessica Lee' s sharp voice cut through the air. She slinked up to David' s side, clinging to his arm like a designer accessory. She was his assistant now, a position that seemed to fuel her sense of ownership over him. Her eyes, filled with the same old malice, raked over my simple black dress.

"Sarah, darling. It' s been ages," she said, her tone syrupy sweet. "I almost didn' t recognize you. Life must be hard without David' s credit card, huh? Still trying to make a living with your little trinkets?"

She gestured vaguely at the display cases around the room, where my designs-and those of the other finalists-were showcased.

I didn' t rise to the bait.

"Hello, Jessica," I said, my voice flat.

"I heard you were a finalist. How surprising," she continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "David was just saying how he felt sorry for you, having to raise a child all on your own. It' s so... tragic."

David chimed in, his tone condescending. "I told you I could help, Sarah. You don' t have to pretend you' re doing fine. There' s no shame in admitting you made a mistake leaving me."

I looked from his self-satisfied face to hers. They were a perfect match. Two people convinced of their own superiority, feeding off each other's arrogance.

I remembered all the years I' d spent in their orbit, constantly feeling small. Every dinner party, every vacation, Jessica was there, a constant, subtle poison. She' d compliment my dress, then whisper to someone else that it was last season. She' d praise my cooking, then pointedly ask the maid to bring her an antacid. David never saw it. Or he didn' t care.

He had always chosen her. Her opinion, her comfort, her happiness. I was just an accessory, and when I stopped being a shiny, compliant one, he' d been ready to discard me.

The thought didn' t bring the old sting of pain. Instead, a wave of relief washed over me. I had escaped. I had spent three years building a life, a career, and a family that was real. A family built on respect, not on power and appearances.

Jessica, annoyed by my silence, pressed on. "So who was that man Leo was pointing to? Did you finally find some poor guy to support you? I hope for your sake he has money. You must be desperate to get back into a lifestyle like this."

Her words were meant to be knives, to cut me down and remind me of the world I' d lost. She had no idea that I hadn' t lost a thing. I had gained everything.

"Why does my life concern you so much, Jessica?" I asked, my voice genuinely curious.

The direct question caught her off guard. She sputtered for a moment, her perfectly painted lips parting in surprise.

"I... I' m just concerned for David! You' re clearly here to cause trouble, to try and win him back with some sob story about your sad little life."

She looked at David, expecting him to back her up.

He did.

"She' s right, Sarah," David said, his voice firm. "This is a business event for me. I can' t have you making a scene. Whatever you want, my lawyer can handle it. Just don' t do it here."

A scene. That' s what he thought this was. He saw me, the mother of his child, as a nuisance. An inconvenience at his important event.

I almost laughed. They were standing here, judging my simple dress and my supposed struggles, completely oblivious. They had no idea that the "poor guy" Jessica mentioned owned the building they were standing in. They didn' t know that I wasn' t just a finalist in this competition.

I was one of the judges.

My name wasn' t on the public list. It was Michael' s idea, a way to ensure the judging was completely impartial. Only the highest levels of the Thompson Corporation knew that S. M. Miller, the celebrated but anonymous designer, was Sarah Miller Thompson, Michael' s wife.

If only they knew. The thought was a quiet, satisfying secret. Their power was an illusion, and it was about to crumble.