AFTER MY EX BETRAYED ME, I DRUGGED THE CEO AND STOLE HIS FORTUNE

Jane's POV I thought I'd seen the worst of it—the betrayal, the lies, the sickening confession—but pain has a way of reinventing itself. It wasn’t over. Kelvin and Daphne weren’t done with me. They had more venom to spill, more pieces of my soul to tear away and they laughed at me like I was nothing but a stupid joke. Just as I stood there, bleeding, trembling, humiliated beyond belief, Daphne—clad in nothing but the bedsheet I once picked out for our honeymoon—sauntered over to my vanity like it belonged to her. Like she owned this life that used to be mine. That was mine. She opened my drawer, the one where I kept my vitamins, my supplements, all the pills the doctors had told me might help me carry my baby to full term, might give us a child one day—something I had prayed for every single night while he slept soundly beside me, hiding secrets beneath that smug, peaceful face. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low, barely audible over the storm thundering inside me. “Put those back, Daphne. They’re expensive. They’re—” She turned around, holding the small white bottle between her fingers, spinning it like a toy. Her eyes gleamed with wicked pleasure. “Vitamins?” she sneered, then threw her head back and laughed. “Oh Jane, bless your deluded little heart. These aren’t vitamins. They’re abortion pills.” The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and poisonous, choking me. “W-what?” My voice cracked. “That’s not— that’s not funny. Stop lying. Those were prescribed—" Daphne stepped closer, unscrewed the cap, and let the pills fall. Dozens of tiny white tablets scattered across the marble floor. “They’re the reason you’ve never had a child, Jane,” she said with a soft, almost mocking pout. “Every time you thought you were pregnant and then suddenly weren’t… Well, now you know. Your dear husband didn’t want your babies, sweetheart. He just wanted your money. So, he replaced your precious supplements with these.” My knees buckled, and I stumbled against the dresser, clutching the edge for support. “No. No, that’s not possible. I—he wouldn’t…” “Oh, but he did.” She smiled like a cat playing with its food. “And judging by how long you’ve been taking them, I doubt you’ll ever carry a child again. Consider your womb retired.” Something inside me broke. I screamed and lunged at her, pure rage guiding my body. But Daphne shoved me back, and I crashed hard against the floor. Pain tore through me like lightning. A warm wetness pooled beneath me, and when I looked down… Blood. Again. Not again— no, I can't lose this child no! My twelfth miscarriage? I curled up on the floor as reality hit me. My scream was primal—louder than I’d ever heard my own voice. My phone buzzed near me, the screen lighting up with notifications. I grabbed it with shaking hands, trying to distract myself from the excruciating pain tearing through my body. Until I saw the bank alert! Eight hundred million! Gone. “No, no, no…” I whispered, tapping the screen with trembling fingers. My bloodied palm left smears across the glass. “The contract fund—where—who did this—?” Before I could make the call to my account manager, Kelvin’s shadow loomed above me. In one swift motion, he snatched the phone out of my hand. “Don’t worry about that anymore, Jane,” he said calmly, wiping a nonexistent speck from his shirt. “That money, and every other asset you own? They belong to me now. I’m the CEO of Thorne Tech.” I blinked up at him in disbelief, the world spinning around me. “No. No, that’s not possible. I never— I didn’t sign anything—I’ll never give you control of my company! That's the only thing my parents left for me!” “Oh, but you did,” he said, grinning. “Don’t you remember that night I made you that special dinner? The wine? You were so eager to make love, so desperate to please me, you didn’t even question the papers I slid in front of you. You signed everything away with a kiss.” My head shook on its own. “You drugged me?” “Of course I did. What did you think this was? A fairytale?” He leaned closer, his voice sharp. “This was a heist, Jane. You were the prize. And now that we’ve drained you dry, you’re worthless.” Tears streamed down my face as I sat in a puddle of blood, heartbreak, and loss. “All these years… four years… were they all fake?” My voice was barely a whisper. Kelvin smiled coldly. “Everything. From the vows to the sex to those stupid anniversary surprises. You were just the bank. The fool.” He pulled out a folder and threw it at me. “Here are your divorce papers and the asset transfer forms. Signed. Sealed. And soon to be delivered.” I stared down at them, but my vision blurred. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The names, the signatures—they were all there. My entire empire, gone. My legacy, gone. My love, my body, my child—all gone. “You’re not human,” I whispered. “You’re monsters. Both of you.” Just then, Kelvin turned to Daphne and kissed her deeply, moaning her name in front of me. I clutched my stomach and tried to stand, but the pain doubled me over again. “Security!” Kelvin yelled. “Get this woman out of my house.” Two guards stormed in and yanked me up by my arms. I screamed, kicked, but I was too weak. Too broken. As they dragged me down the hallway I once decorated with love, Daphne called out sweetly, “Oh, and Happy anniversary, Jane” I twisted in their grasp and looked over my shoulder, locking eyes with Kelvin one last time, my voice was hoarse but I meant every word. “You'll regret this! I swear on everything you stole from me! You'll pay! I'll rise from this and when I do, you'll both burn!”

Jane's POV The sound of the door slamming open jolted me awake, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and paper. Robert's voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “Get up right now!” he barked, his words vibrating through the office, making the walls themselves feel like they were trembling. I rubbed my eyes, trying to push away the fog of sleep that had clouded my mind. I was still reeling from the stress of the last few weeks—working late nights, running on barely any sleep. But nothing could prepare me for what was coming. There he was. Robert Smith, my annoying boss, The first son of the Smith family. A man whose name was synonymous with power, wealth, and fear. His recent divorce had made headlines everywhere, with his ex-model wife airing their dirty laundry on live TV. The scandal nearly destroyed his reputation, but it had only made him more unbearable. He was a walking storm now. Always angry. Always on edge. Nothing pleased him. His towering frame loomed over me like a shadow, and his cold, gray eyes burned with contempt. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. Without warning, he slammed his fist onto the desk with a force that made the papers jump, sending a jolt through my body. The sound was deafening. “I don’t pay you to sleep, Jane!” His voice was laced with disgust. “You’re here to work, not to laze around like some damn teenager who hasn’t learned a thing about responsibility!” I jumped to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest, blood rushing to my ears. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry!” I stammered, my voice weak, panic flooding my every word. “I didn’t mean—” “Didn’t mean to?” He scoffed, his lip curling into a sneer. He looked me up and down like I was the dirt on the bottom of his expensive shoes. “What exactly do you think you're here for, Jane? A little nap on company time? You look like you’ve been wearing the same outfit for a week. Didn’t you think about putting yourself together for once?” His eyes flicked over my clothes—simple, a bit wrinkled—and he scoffed again. “Look at you. You’ve got no sense of style, no sense of class. You might as well have walked out of a thrift store. What a joke.” The humiliation hit me like a slap to the face. My chest tightened, and I felt my cheeks burn. I wasn’t even sure if I was more embarrassed by his words or the crushing weight of his gaze. He had a way of making me feel like nothing—like I didn’t even matter. I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. I couldn’t let him see me cry. Not in front of him. “Do you think I’m here to babysit you?” Robert continued, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’m wasting my time and my salary on someone who can’t even do the simplest of tasks.” His words hit me hard, each one digging into the already fragile walls of my self-esteem. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. He didn’t care what I had to say. Robert never cared. “Where are the documents I asked for?” His voice was colder now, the irritation turning to pure disdain. “The ones for the Blackstone contract? I need them now.” My heart skipped a beat. I had worked on them overnight, scrambling to get them ready in time, but they weren’t perfect. Not by Robert’s standards. I fumbled through the papers on my desk, hands shaking as I tried to find the right folder. My fingers were clumsy, but I finally managed to grab it and push it towards him. “Here, sir. I—I worked on them all night,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, praying it would be enough to satisfy him. My hands were clammy, the papers sticking to my fingers as I handed them over. Robert didn’t even look at me as he snatched the file from my hands. He flipped through the documents, his eyes scanning each page with a cold, clinical detachment. I waited, my breath caught in my throat, my nerves twisting like a knot. He didn’t speak for a long time. But when he did, it was with the kind of venom that could melt steel. “This is rubbish,” he said, his voice a low growl. “This is what I get after all your whining and excuses? You’re telling me you’ve spent the whole night working on this? It looks like something a first-year student would hand in. You wasted your time going to university? You’d have been better off learning how to clean gutters instead of wasting years and money on a degree. This is absolute trash.” He shoved the papers into the trash can with a flick of his wrist, as if they were nothing more than garbage. “I’ve been paying you, what, for this? For nothing?” He sneered. “It’s pathetic. You’ve wasted my time and my money—again.” He glared at me like I was the one who had ruined his life. I stood frozen, my heart sinking. The tears I’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally broke free, hot and painful, streaming down my face. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t. “Please, sir,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I... I can fix it. I’ll redo it. Please don’t fire me.” Robert’s face remained stone-cold, his expression hardening with each word I spoke. “Fire you? You’ve already fired yourself,” he said, his words like a death sentence. “You’re a waste of space, Jane. I’m done with you. Clean out your desk. You’re fired.”

Jane's POV The road to landing this job had been nothing short of a nightmare. After my divorce from Kelvin, The miscarriage had shattered me further. The abortion pills he had pushed me to take had left me infertile. The doctor confirmed it: my Fallopian tubes were beyond repair. I would never be able to have children naturally again. I hadn’t known how to process the news. I didn’t know how to mourn the loss of something that hadn’t even had a chance to live. My desperation led me to apply for every job in sight. But it didn’t matter how many degrees I had or how many languages I spoke. Every company rejected me, saying I was "too overqualified." and I couldn’t help but feel like I had wasted so much time chasing a future that never came. Except for Robert Smith. He didn’t care about my qualifications. Instead, he made me feel like nothing. He stripped away any remaining dignity I had, making me feel stupid and small. Every day, I walked into that office, knowing I was nothing more than an obstacle in his path, a pawn to be used, discarded, and humiliated at his will. I was still begging, hoping he would at least have a change of heart, even if it meant deducting fifty percent off my salary, I would take it, I didn't just want to be idle. His phone rang abruptly, cutting through the tension in the room. He answered it, his tone clipped and sharp, listening to the voice on the other end, no doubt relaying some bit of information that had only fueled his fury. After a moment, he hung up, his face tight with frustration. "Unbelievable..." he muttered to himself, turning back to face me. “Are you sure you're not a witch?” I scrambled for words, my hands shaking. "Please, sir... please don’t fire me. I can do better, I swear! I promise it won’t happen again. I’ve got debts to settle. I’m barely scraping by.” My voice trembled, but I had no choice. This job—this miserable excuse for a job—was my only lifeline. Robert stood there, looking at me with something between disgust and indifference. For a moment, I thought he might walk out and leave me stranded, like he always did. But then, with a long, exasperated sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he were wrestling with some inner demon. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he muttered. “Normally, I wouldn’t, but…” He let out another frustrated hiss. “Fine. I’ll give you one last chance. But this time, you’re not just my assistant.” I blinked, confused. “What do you mean, sir?” He looked at me like I should have known better. “We’ve got a dinner party to attend, and you’re coming with me. My original plus-one bailed at the last minute, so now you’re my backup. I paid some actress a ridiculous amount to attend this high-profile event, and now she’s telling me she forgot because she’s ‘on set.’ Ugh. You women are all the same. All you do is take, take, take, without ever giving anything back.” He shook his head in frustration before heading toward the door. I grabbed my bag, my heart racing. He wasn’t giving me a choice. I had to follow him. I had to go. There was no other option. When I caught up to him, I tried to speak, but before I could get a word out, he shot me a glance over his shoulder. “Keep your distance,” he snapped. “I don’t need you breathing down my neck. Just get in the damn car.” As we reached the parking lot, I hesitated. “Sir, I... I don’t have anything to wear for the event,” I finally said, feeling the sting of embarrassment wash over me. Robert’s lips curled into a mocking smile as he turned to look at me. He chuckled darkly. “I didn’t expect anything better. Your shoes always look like they’ve been eaten by rats, your hair’s as dry as straw, and your breath…” He paused dramatically, as if savoring the cruelty. “Always unbearable! Please, do us both a favor and shut up. Let me take you to a boutique to help your sad little life before you kill me with that smell coming from your mouth.”

Jane's POV I walked back to the parking lot and Robert’s eyes locked onto me. For the first time in our entire working relationship, I saw something flicker in his gaze—appraisal, maybe even approval—but then it was gone, replaced by his usual contempt. He looked me up and down once more, his expression bordering on disapproval. “You look less than a clown,” he muttered, making me flinch. “We’re going to meet dignitaries, and they’ll want to ask you questions about the business sector. Don’t embarrass me with your stupidity, Jane. If you do, I’ll make sure I lock you up for the rest of your miserable life. Understand?” We got to the venue and immediately I stepped inside the hall, my stomach churned with excitement and dread. The gala was a billionaire’s affair—dignitaries, investors, and tech moguls mingling, all with one goal: to secure lucrative deals and expand their empires. It should have been my moment—my opportunity to shine. My company, Thorne Tech, was supposed to be at this event, showcasing our cutting-edge innovations. But Kelvin and Daphne had crushed that dream beneath their heels, and now, here I was, reduced to a mere assistant at Robert’s side. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present. And then I heard it—Robert's voice, booming across the room as he introduced someone. “A foreign investor, Mr. Gianni Berardi,” Robert said, and I couldn’t help but listen as his deep voice sliced through the air. He was shaking hands with a tall man, his accent thick and his English faltering. "Mr. Berardi is here to discuss a potential collaboration with Smith Group," Robert continued, his tone almost too rehearsed. I could see the slight discomfort in his posture, the tight smile on his face as he fumbled with the words. I couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. Robert, always so sure of himself, was clearly struggling to communicate with this Italian investor. The language barrier between them was painfully obvious. Robert’s attempts to engage in conversation were met with confusion, and the silence between them grew awkward by the second. I stood off to the side, my arms folded across my chest, enjoying the scene unfold before me. Robert, the ever-confident billionaire, was stumbling over his words, and it was a sight I couldn't tear my eyes from. For once, the man who thought he was untouchable was struggling. But I didn’t speak. I let him flounder. He had always made me feel small, belittling me at every turn, making me doubt my worth. It felt good to watch him squirm for once, knowing that he couldn’t control the situation. Then, as if the universe had a wicked sense of timing, Robert snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering something. "Wait—Jane!" he barked, his voice sharp. "You speak multiple languages, don’t you?" His gaze locked onto me. "Mr. Berardi is a potential client, and he's been asking about our latest products. He wants us to blow his mind with something new—something that's never been seen or heard before." I blinked, surprised by the sudden turn of events. I had no idea what Robert had in mind, but I knew one thing—I couldn’t let this opportunity slip through my fingers. Not when my future could be at stake. He continued, his voice low, "You’ve been sitting here listening. Why don’t you handle it? You’ve been in meetings about this product, tell him everything about the new product we are working on” For a split second, I hesitated. My mind raced. This was my chance—my chance to show Robert what I was truly capable of. But on the other hand, If I could win over this investor, if I could pitch something incredible, it would be my way back to the top. I didn’t need Robert’s approval anymore—I just needed one break, one person to believe in me. I took a deep breath and smiled. "Of course, Mr. Smith. I’ll handle it." Robert didn’t seem to care much about my confidence. In fact, he was already distracted by something else, and as he turned away, he whispered in my ear, "Don’t mess this up, Jane. If you screw this up, I’ll make sure you regret it."

Jane's POV Robert’s breath was hot against my skin, and I suppressed a shiver. There was something dark in his eyes, something that made my blood run cold. But I pushed it aside. I had no time to dwell on his threats. This was my moment. I turned to Mr. Berardi, who was still waiting, his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking at me expectantly. I could feel the weight of his gaze and I knew that I had to impress him. Not just for Robert, but for myself. "Mr. Berardi," I said, trying to sound confident. "I know you’re looking for something fresh in tech. I have an idea that could change the way people connect online." He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "Go on." "Picture this," I continued, "a platform where companies and startups can share ideas and work together in real-time, without all the usual delays. It's a place where anyone can post projects, and the right people with the right skills can join and collaborate instantly." He raised an eyebrow again. "So, like a marketplace for ideas?" "Exactly," I nodded. "But it’s more than that. It’s a place where people can create, share, and even patent new tech products on the spot—no red tape, no waiting." Mr. Berardi smiled, his eyes twinkling with approval. "You have my attention, Miss Jane. I would like to explore this further. Here," he handed me his business card, "contact me. I think we could do something extraordinary together." I took the card, my heart racing. This was it. This could be my big break—the opportunity I had been waiting for. I didn't want to take chances, so I quickly punched his contact information into my phone. I could schedule a meeting with Mr Berardi, call in sick on the day of the meeting without informing Robert and travel with Mr Berardi to Italy and start a new life there. But then, my eyes wandered across the room, and I saw them. Kelvin and Daphne. Standing together, laughing, sharing a private joke. The sight of them made my blood boil, but it was the way they were looking at each other that sent a chill down my spine. I turned quickly, almost running into a waiter carrying a glass of champagne. I mumbled an apology, my heart pounding in my chest as I couldn't bear to see them together. I fled to the bathroom, locking myself inside a stall. My body trembled with sobs as I retched into the toilet, vomiting everything I had eaten earlier. The bile rose in my throat as the memories came flooding back—Kelvin’s betrayal, Daphne’s lies, the way they had ruined my life. I wiped my tears away, took a deep breath, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. This was it. This was my moment to reclaim everything I had lost. It starts now. I took a few more steadying breaths before I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. My hands shook slightly as I unlocked the screen. I blinked in shock when I saw the notifications. Over thirty missed calls from Mr Robert. And then, I saw the room number he had sent to me followed by a short message. [ We are spending the night here, I'm too drunk to leave, and It's past midnight! Get here now!] But just as I was about to gather myself, ready to leave and face Robert, I heard a commotion outside the bathroom. A woman's face echoed through the hallway frantically. “Mr Berardi! Someone call for help! He's collapsed— he can't breathe” I froze, my heart skipping a bit, what the hell was going on? I pushed open the bathroom door and a nurse rushed past me. “He's suffering from severe food poisoning and allergic reactions. We need to get him to the ICU immediately” Mr Berardi was my only chance at getting revenge on Kelvin and Daphne, but now with his condition, it's over for me, there was no way out of this and I know very well that I didn't want to go back and continue being Robert's floor mat. Well, I guess I'll have to move on to plan B.

Jane's POV I pushed open the door to Robert's hotel room, and the smell hit me instantly—a mix of whiskey and expensive cologne. I found him slumped in a chair by the window, half-empty bottle dangling from his hand, eyes glazed over, shirt unbuttoned halfway. He was laughing to himself, low and bitter, like he was sharing an inside joke with his demons. "You know what the funny part is?" he slurred, raising the bottle to his lips and missing. It spilled down his chin, but he didn't seem to care. "She was a model. A goddamn model. Gorgeous, perfect, every man wanted her. And she chose my best friend. My fucking best friend!” He chuckled again, this time broken. "I gave her everything. The house, the cars, the life. And she still said I wasn’t enough. Said I was boring and too obsessed with her” He wiped his face with the back of his hand, eyes bloodshot. "And now look at me. Hiding in hotel rooms, throwing up meetings just so I can drink myself into forgetting." He paused, voice softening, trembling. "I hate women. They ruin everything. Pretty faces, sharp tongues, hollow promises. They're poisonous. All of them!” I cleared my throat gently, just enough to announce my presence. "Mr. Robert... Do you need anything? Or should I find another room to stay in for the night?" He jerked at the sound, turned to me slowly, squinting like I was a ghost. Then he laughed—a low, tipsy chuckle that made my stomach twist. "Oh, look who it is. My ugly little assistant," he said, stumbling to his feet, nearly falling over in the process. "Always hovering. Always serious. Do you ever smile?" I didn’t respond. He was drunk. Not himself. But then, something shifted in his eyes. "You know what I hate the most?" he said, voice quieter now, like a confession. "The fact that I noticed you. The first damn day. You walked in with that tight bun and those oversized glasses, looking like you had something to prove. And I laughed. But then..." He stepped closer, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. His eyes searched mine. "Then I saw you handle my entire schedule in under twenty minutes. I saw how you watched my meetings like you were reading minds. And those ideas I always drop in the trash like they’re nothing? I use them, Jane. I use all of them." My breath caught. "I argue with you," he went on, "just to see your face get all serious. You chew on your pen when you're thinking. You bite your lip when you’re trying not to curse me out. You're... you're beautiful." My heart was thudding. This couldn’t be real. He didn’t mean any of this. Not sober, anyway. "But I can’t," he said, eyes suddenly glassy. "I won’t. Feelings make you stupid. They make you weak. I fell in love once, and she laughed in my face. I won’t be that man again. I won't." He turned away, wiping at his eyes, and I slowly moved toward the door, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Just as my fingers touched the handle, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist. "Don’t go," he whispered. And before I could speak, before I could think, he pulled me toward him, his mouth crashing into mine. It was desperate, messy, but full of a raw hunger neither of us could hide anymore. We made love like we were both trying to forget. Or maybe trying to remember something we never had. But when morning came, reality did too. The sun slipped through a crack in the curtain and I sat up slowly, the sheets tangled around my legs. Robert was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, oblivious to the chaos brewing inside me. I slipped out of bed carefully, my body sore as I moved silently around the room, scanning every corner for surveillance cameras and I sighed in relief when I realised there was none. I reached for his hand, lifted it gently, and pressed his thumb against the sensor on his phone. It unlocked instantly. I navigated to his private banking app, my fingers steady despite the storm in my chest. The password? His ex-wife's birthday. Once in, I moved fast. Transferred a substantial sum to an untraceable account I had set up weeks ago. I had fantasized about this moment too many times not to be prepared. I got dressed quickly, shoving my essentials into my purse. My passport. My burner phone. Backup ID. All ready. All planned. But just as I reached for the door, something stopped me. A very crazy last minute decision. I turned, crossed the room again, and dug through the trash can. My fingers found it—the used condom from last night. I wrapped it carefully in tissue and shoved it deep into my purse, my hands trembling. I bolted from the room, my heels clicking against the marble floors of the hallway. Outside, I quickly flagged down a taxi with a wave of my arm and slid into the back seat, adrenaline flooding my veins. "Airport," I told the driver, my voice steady. "Fast as you can."

Jane's POV It's been five years. Five long years since I left my past life, and everything that ever brought me pain. The woman who boarded that flight wasn’t me—not really. She was broken. Betrayed. Discarded like trash by a man she loved and a woman she thought was family. Now? That woman no longer exists. I’m Tasha Rivers now. CEO of River Lane Talent. And today, I own the biggest talent agency in London. "Three A-list stars, Tasha! Three!" Zuri squealed, twirling around my office with her iPad held high like a trophy. "Their managers said no one else had the range, the strategy, or the edge you bring. Girl, you're literally that woman." I smiled as I adjusted the cuffs of my white silk blouse and leaned back in my chair, taking in the familiar scent of vanilla and coffee that always seemed to linger in the River Lane building. I can't believe I built this from scratch in five years! "Well, we're not just selling dreams," I said. "We're building legacies. These stars will thank us in five years when they’re not just relevant—they’re unforgettable." Zuri beamed, cheeks flushed with pride. She was more than an assistant. She was the sister I never had. The confidante who held my hair when I cried, who stayed with Dior when I worked late, who helped me pick a new name and a new face to wear when the pain got too heavy. "Speaking of unforgettable," she said, tapping her screen. "You have Dior's parents and teachers meeting at 3PM. And you promised to take her to the salon on Friday, don’t forget she's a princess and she deserves the best blowout money can buy." I chuckled. "I wouldn't dare forget. She gave me a two-hour presentation on why she needs gold beads for her birthday” Zuri laughed. "She gets it from you. The dramatics! You both make me want to have a child but not now, I'm not ready to be a mom, babysitting Dior is enough!” My heart warmed at the thought of my daughter—our daughter. Dior Rivers. Born via surrogacy, created from my egg and the sperm I stole from a man who would never forgive me if he knew. But Dior was the best decision of my life. She saved me from becoming a monster. She gave me something to live for. Zuri's iPad buzzed and she frowned "Hmm. We just got a submission. Someone’s offering a lot of money to be signed under River Lane." "Anyone worth our time?" She hesitated. That wasn’t like her, Zuri never hesitates, anything that'd bring money legally, she's always in. "We can pass," she said quickly. "Too much drama, too many scandals. Bad for our brand." I arched my brow. "Zuri. Don’t play this game with me. Who is it?" "Tasha—" "Say it, it's a yes or no thing, besides we've worked so hard for five years! We need all the recognition we can get” She sighed heavily, then flipped the iPad to show me the screen. There she was. Smiling in a red carpet photo, dripping in diamonds paid for by the life she stole from me. Daphne Taylor, Kelvin's sister or should I say wife. Her profile was stacked with awards, magazine covers, and glowing reviews. But beneath the surface? She was rotting. "She’s a mess, Tasha. Drug accusations. A rumored affair with her producer. Her last film flopped. She fired her old manager after slapping him on set. She’s hanging by a thread." I stared at the screen. Five years. And this is how fate brought her back to me? "And she's offering us money?" I asked, voice low. "Yes. A huge retainer. Enough to build a second studio if we wanted." I leaned forward, elbows on the glass table. "Do you know what that means, Zuri?" "It means she's desperate." "It means she's sinking. And I get to be the one to hand her the anchor." Zuri blinked, stunned. "Tasha... you're not the same girl they destroyed. You have a life now. A daughter. Revenge won't heal everything." "This isn’t about healing," I whispered. "It’s about finishing." She looked down muttering words and clenching her fist, she always said I was too stubborn. "Accept the deal," I said, standing. "And schedule a meeting."