Chapter 1

For three years, I poured my soul into Cade, forgiving him 99 times. I was a struggling art student, paying for our shared dreams and caring for his fragile heart.

But the 100th time, he let his cruel mistress, Alessandra, try to kill me in an old boathouse. He called it an "accident," his eyes already choosing his ambition over my life.

I woke up in the hospital to hear him call me a "disposable stepping stone" and announce his engagement to the woman who had just tried to murder me. The doctor then confirmed the worst: his betrayal had cost me our unborn child.

I had been a fool, a victim in their sick game. But as I lay there, broken and bleeding, I realized something. They thought I was a poor, orphaned artist.

They had no idea I was Blaire Madden, the sole heiress to a global corporation. And I was finally ready to come home and make them pay.

Chapter 1

Blaire POV:

Three years with Cade, 99 times I' d forgiven him, but the hundredth time, it almost killed me. I' d poured every ounce of my being into our life, a struggling art student financing our shared dreams, believing in a future with the man I loved. He had a heart condition, a fragile ticker I swore to protect with my own. Or so I believed.

Alessandra Guerra was a shadow that always lingered, a venomous whisper in the corners of my life. Her cruelty wasn't subtle; it was a slow, deliberate strangulation. She' d keyed my car, splashed paint on my canvases, and once, she'd even sabotaged my stove, causing a small fire. Cade always had an excuse, a weary sigh about her "childish jealousy," a plea for me to "understand her insecurity." He' d smooth my hair, his eyes full of that practiced tenderness, and I' d always, stupidly, believed him.

The first time Alessandra laid hands on me, it was at a gallery opening. She cornered me, her designer nails digging into my arm. "Stay away from Cade," she hissed, her breath hot and rancid with champagne. She twisted, and I felt a sharp tearing, my sleeve ripping, leaving a raw, red scratch on my skin. Cade found me hiding in the restroom, tears blurring my vision. He tutted, "Alessandra can be so dramatic, can't she? Just a little scratch, darling." He dabbed at it with a damp paper towel, his touch already feeling distant. My anger flared, but he just whispered about her "fragile state," how she "didn't mean it." He said I was being "too sensitive."

Then came the "accident" at the park. Alessandra "mistook" me for someone else, shoving me down a small hill, claiming she thought I was a thief. I landed hard, my ankle twisting, a sickening pop echoing in my ears. The pain shot through me, hot and blinding. Cade arrived, his face a mask of concern that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, Blaire, you're always so clumsy," he sighed, helping me up. "Alessandra was just playing around. You know how vivile she is." He wrapped his arm around me, but his grip was loose, almost perfunctory. He said I was overreacting, that Alessandra thought of it as a "game."

The "games" escalated. A speeding car that swerved inches from me as I crossed the street. I screamed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Cade, who was with me, pulled me back just in time. "Careful!" he chided, his voice laced with annoyance. "You really need to watch where you're going." He looked at the receding car, then back at me. "Alessandra must be having a bad day. She drives like a maniac sometimes." That was his explanation. A bad day. For almost taking my life.

The 99th incident was the most terrifying. Alessandra, emboldened by Cade's unwavering protection, trapped me in the old, abandoned boathouse we used for our art projects. The air was thick with the smell of decay and stagnant water. She held a heavy oar, her eyes gleaming with a manic glee I' d never seen before, not even from her. "You think you can keep him?" she snarled, raising the oar. "You' re nothing but a pest." I thought that was it.

Just then, Cade burst through the splintered door, his face pale. Alessandra paused, the oar still raised. He looked at me, then at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He rushed forward, pulling her away just as she swung. The oar missed my head by an inch, instead slamming into the wooden beam behind me, sending splinters flying. My body trembled, cold sweat trickling down my back. "Blaire, are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained, but his eyes were already on Alessandra, examining her.

"She tried to kill me, Cade! She literally just tried to kill me!" I gasped, my voice raw with terror and a desperate plea for justice. I grabbed his arm, my nails digging into his skin. "You have to do something! Call the police! Please, Cade!"

He pulled his arm away, his eyes hardening. "Blaire, don't be dramatic. It was an accident. Alessandra would never intentionally harm you." His throat bobbed, a tell-tale sign of his internal struggle. His gaze darted away, to the dilapidated boathouse, to the open door, to anything but my pleading face. He had a choice-me or his ambition. I watched as the scales tilted.

"An accident?" I whispered, a laugh bubbling up, laced with blood. The taste of copper filled my mouth. My love for him, once a roaring fire, was now a dying ember. I saw it then, in his averted gaze, in the slight shrug of his shoulders. I was a casualty, an inconvenience in his grand scheme. He didn't care. Not about me. Not about us.

My legs buckled. The world spun, a dizzying carousel of pain and betrayal. I felt a sharp thud as my head hit the ground. Darkness swallowed me whole.

The next thing I knew, voices echoed around me, muffled and distant. I was in a hospital bed, the sterile smell burning my nostrils. My vision swam, but I recognized Cade's voice. It was low, firm, colder than I' d ever heard it. "She's nothing to me," he was saying. The words sliced through the fog of pain, waking me completely. "Just a temporary distraction."

"But darling, what about the family? What about your reputation?" a saccharine voice, unmistakably Alessandra's, purred.

"My engagement to you, Alessandra, secures everything. My status. My inheritance." Cade's voice was laced with a chilling resolve. "Blaire was always just... a stepping stone. A temporary arrangement while I recovered. Now that the Dyers have officially acknowledged me, she's disposable."

Disposable. The word echoed like a death knell in my heart. My love for him, that stubborn, foolish thing, shriveled and died right then and there. It wasn't a sudden explosion, but a quiet, final surrender. His callous words, his brutal dismissal, they extinguished the last spark.

I remembered our first date, a picnic by the lake. He' d painted my portrait, his hands steady, his eyes full of admiration. "You're my muse, Blaire," he' d whispered, his lips tracing mine. "My everything." He' d promised me a future, told me I was the only one who truly understood him. He' d even talked about marriage, about children, about a little cottage by the sea. All lies. Every tender touch, every loving glance, a calculated performance.

My eyes fluttered open. I reached for the phone on the bedside table, my fingers trembling. The memory of his cruel, dismissive voice still ringing in my ears, I made a call. "Erich," I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. "It's Blaire. I need you to come get me. And tell Dad... tell him his little girl is finally ready to come home."