Chapter 1 Betrayal

Adrian Carter was my husband.

He was making out with his secretary in my car, leaving stains all over my son Ethan Bennett's seat.

When I walked in on them, he didn't show the slightest remorse. Instead, he sneered at me, "What, can't take it? Our marriage was nothing but a contract!"

It wasn't until I froze his billion-dollar deal, smashed his luxury watch, and threw the divorce papers at him in front of everyone that I finally said, "I, Grace Bennett, won't take anything that's been sullied!"

He fell to his knees, begging for mercy.

Too late.

I took Ethan's hand and, without a backward glance, stepped into another man's car.

......

My name was Grace Bennett.

The only daughter of Bennett family, I was known in society as the Ice Queen Rose.

Three years ago, I lowered myself to marry Adrian, who at the time was nothing more than an obscure tech upstart. No one understood, not even my parents.

They said the daughter of the Bennett family should marry a man of equal standing, not gamble on the uncertain future of a nobody.

But I did. I placed my bet.

I bet that the light in his eyes was real, that his vow to build a business empire for me was true.

For three years after our marriage, I poured all of Bennett Corporation's resources into paving his way.

From seed funding to Series A, from a fledgling startup to ringing the Nasdaq bell, I stayed by his side through endless sleepless nights and shielded him from countless open attacks and hidden schemes.

On the night of the IPO, beneath the blinding spotlights, he wrapped an arm around my waist and declared to the world, "Without you, there would be no me today."

In that moment, I thought I had won my gamble.

But when the celebration was over, at two in the morning, I received a video from an unfamiliar number.

The moment I opened it, my stomach churned violently.

On the screen was my silver convertible, one of only ten in the world.

In the passenger seat sat Adrian's intern-Vivian Cross.

She wore a cheap slip dress, straddling Adrian's lap as they kissed with abandon.

The top was down, the night wind whipping her hair into a mess-while also carrying Adrian's hand deeper beneath her dress.

But what stung the most was the back seat.

It was my son Ethan's car seat, meant only for him.

Now, the seat was a complete mess.

A spilled bottle of perfume was slowly seeping into the seams of the cushion.

It was my third-anniversary gift, chosen by Adrian himself-the top note a cool cedar, the base a tender amber. He had said it was like me.

At the end of the video, Vivian smiled at the camera with the smugness of a victor, then held the phone to Adrian's lips.

With the lazy satisfaction of afterglow, his voice hoarse, Adrian spoke into the camera.

"Grace, it was just a stupid dare-no need to lose your mind over it. What's the matter, can't handle even a little game?"

I stared at the phone screen, my fingertips ice-cold, while my heart sizzled as if it had been thrown into boiling oil.

"Can't handle it?" I thought to myself. "Alright then, Adrian. I'll show you what 'can't handle it' truly looks like."