Worry tightened Jonathan's chest. The expression he saw on Bethany's face was painfully fragile, and there wasn't a hint of joy in her eyes.

All he could see was the emptiness of someone utterly drained of hope.

At the nearest intersection, the Maybach maneuvered a U-turn, smoothly keeping pace with the cab Bethany was in.

Behind the tinted window, Jonathan's gaze never left the faint outline of Bethany in the back seat.

Her head was pressed to the window, her shoulders shivering; she looked like she was trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Brodie Wilson..." The name escaped Jonathan's lips, his voice ice-cold.

He couldn't wrap his head around what pain could strip away every trace of life from a woman who once sparkled with energy.

The cab eventually rolled into an upscale villa community, stopping before an opulent house.

Jonathan quietly signaled his driver to halt at a discreet distance.

From where he sat, he watched Bethany pause outside the grand front door, her head tilted back as she gazed up at the building.

Not a single tear fell, yet the devastation etched into her posture was louder than any cry for help.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally moved forward, disappearing behind the door.

Once she was out of sight, Jonathan spoke, his voice disturbingly steady. "Robert."

"Yes, Mr. Taylor?"

"Make an announcement." Jonathan's gaze was glacial. "Taylor Group is halting every partnership with Wilson Group. Effective immediately, terminate all active deals."

Robert Kirk, his assistant, sucked in a sharp breath. "But Mr. Taylor, we've already invested over a hundred million dollars..."

"Just do it," Jonathan interjected, not giving him a chance to argue. "And by sunrise, I want every detail you can dig up on Brodie and his wife, Bethany."

"Understood."

...

At that very moment, Bethany stepped inside the living room and flicked on the lights, flooding the vast, empty villa with cold brightness.

There was no sign of Brodie. He must still be lingering at Karen's place.

Without bothering to settle in, Bethany slipped off her shoes and headed straight upstairs to the study.

She rarely stepped into Brodie's study, always keeping her distance out of respect for the space he claimed as private.

Looking back now, her respect felt laughably pointless.

Bethany powered on his computer, trying every password she could think of—even her own birthday—but nothing worked. Every attempt was denied.

A cold, mocking chuckle escaped Bethany's lips. Clearly, Brodie had been guarding against her for quite some time.

Her eyes wandered around the study until they landed on a compact safe tucked in the corner. Maybe that was where he kept whatever she needed to find.

While Bethany was still debating her next move, her phone began to ring inside her purse.

She pulled it out and noticed Brodie's name flashing across the screen.

Bethany stared at it for a moment before answering, her tone icy and flat. "Hello?"

"Are you home, Bethany? Why didn't you message me?" Brodie's voice carried that same soft warmth as always. But the background was strangely silent—not a hint of office noise.

"I've arrived. I just forgot," Bethany replied curtly.

There was a pause on the other end. Brodie seemed to pick up on the edge in her voice. "Is something wrong? You don't sound like yourself. Still not feeling well?"

"I'm fine. Just exhausted. I'm going to bed," Bethany said, stepping toward the window.

"Alright, then get some rest. Things are a bit messy here, so I'll be home late. No need to stay up for me," Brodie murmured gently. "Make sure to ask the maid for some warm soup. You've been under the weather, and I don't want you catching a cold."

Bethany's stomach twisted as she listened to his empty, rehearsed concern.

Under the weather? Wasn't he the reason for that in the first place?

"Fine," Bethany shot back the word, voice icy, and ended the call.

She couldn't stomach another second of Brodie's false tenderness.

After being deceived into handing over her bone marrow, Bethany had finally recognized the man for who he truly was.

The old Bethany, foolish and blinded by love, no longer existed.

Now, she was determined to calmly reclaim everything that was hers and see that shameless pair pay for what they'd done.

Brodie didn't come home until midday. Before even kicking off his shoes, he barreled inside and swept Bethany into his arms, desperate.

"I'm so sorry, Bethany." His voice was raw and scratchy, worn out from the long night, every word dripping with fake regret. "The company ran into a mess yesterday. I was tied up at work until morning. I know I came back late. Please, don't be upset with me, okay?"

Caught in his arms, Bethany rested her chin on his shoulder. Her gaze slid down and landed on the crisp white collar of his shirt—right where a bold, smudged lipstick stain stood out.

Bethany's eyes rested on the smear of lipstick for a moment, her mind nearly conjuring up a scene that made her stomach churn.

That sickly-sweet perfume hung in the air, twisting her stomach and making her feel like she might be sick. That was the unmistakable fragrance of another woman.

Bethany scoffed silently. A mess from company? More like a mistress who refused to let him leave.

Suppressing the wave of nausea, Bethany slipped out of Brodie's arms.

"I'm not upset." Her expression softened instantly, and she flashed him a perfect, practiced smile. "You must be exhausted. Go freshen up. I'll ask the housekeeper to set the table."

"Okay. By the way, Bethany, I brought you something." Brodie handed her a plush sapphire velvet box.

Bethany flipped it open casually. Inside lay a sparkling diamond necklace, clearly worth a fortune.

Her eyes swept over the jewels with cool detachment. The sight stirred nothing in her.

Brodie, unaware to her coldness, assumed Bethany was thrilled. "Do you like it? I picked it out just for you. There isn't another like it anywhere."

Bethany faked an enthusiastic smile, letting her voice drip with pretend gratitude. "Is that so? How thoughtful of you, darling... Even with your busy schedule, you still made time to buy me something special."

Brodie chuckled, not noticing her act, and gave her hair a gentle tousle. "As long as it makes you happy, that's all that matters. I'm heading to the shower."

As soon as he disappeared upstairs, Bethany's cheerful mask slipped away.

Bethany waited three minutes, making sure he got enough time to get ready for the shower before she entered the bedroom.

She nudged the half‑open bedroom door wider and stepped inside. The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the room. Brodie's shirt lay tossed across the bed. That smear of lipstick on the collar glowed an unforgiving shade of red.

Bethany's attention shifted to the nightstand. His phone rested there, face down and unguarded.

Bethany walked over and lifted it. The passcode was still their wedding anniversary. Brodie had once claimed he'd never change it because that day meant everything to him.

What a joke!

Bethany typed in the numbers and unlocked the screen.

A quick scan through his messages and photos showed nothing—too clean, almost scrubbed on purpose.

She was just about to set the phone back when it buzzed in her hand. A fresh notification appeared.

"Babe, I'm not okay... it hurts."

Bethany's fingers went rigid.

A second notification flashed, then a third.

"My cut is bleeding... Am I dying?"

"I need you here. Right now."

Every message came from Karen.

Suddenly, an image loaded onto the screen. Bethany's breath caught in her throat as she stared.

The photo showed Karen, completely naked, straddling Brodie in a brazen, possessive display.

Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes half-lidded with desire, and her collarbone was covered in love bites.

Around her neck was a diamond necklace, a perfect match for the one lying inside the box.

Brodie's hand, with that rare Patek Philippe watch, was draped lazily around Karen's waist.

But what truly made Bethany's skin crawl was the background in the picture.

That was her bed—the custom king-sized one she had picked out herself for their master bedroom.

She recognized the lighting, the décor, even the dog-eared book lying on her nightstand...

Everything confirmed the awful reality.

They had been here, desecrating her sanctuary, lost in their filthy affair!

Bethany bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.

She highlighted the whole chat, making sure to include the explicit photo, and sent everything to her own phone.

The transfer progress inched forward: 5%... 10%...

Bethany's eyes never left the screen.

37%... 52%...

Her pulse pounded in her ears, the only sound in the silent room.

Suddenly, she heard the soft click of a lock. The sound of a door swinging open echoed behind her!

There was a sharp click. The turn of a lock echoed through the silence, sharp enough to stop Bethany's pulse mid-beat.

She went still, lungs tight, waiting for footsteps. None came.

Very slowly, Bethany shifted her head toward the sound.

The bathroom door remained tightly shut; the sound of a turning lock was the wind blowing open the unlatched bedroom door.

At the moment, a notification blinked across her phone screen, showing the transmission was complete.

Bethany released a shaky breath and only then noticed the cold sweat soaking through her back.

She erased the forwarding record in an instant and put everything back the way it was.

Bethany slipped out of the bedroom without hesitation, eased the door shut, and headed downstairs.

Once she reached the living room, she looked at her phone. The entire chat history sat quietly on the screen.

A resolute smile traced Bethany's lips as she studied the image.

She opened her chat with Daniel and forwarded everything. "This is the latest evidence."

Then she snapped a picture of the necklace and sent it to a reseller she trusted. "Help me sell this. Donate all proceeds to the Women and Children Protection Foundation."

After completing both tasks, she placed her phone aside—only for footsteps to sound from the staircase moments later.

Brodie appeared, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. When he noticed her still there, his expression shifted. "Bethany, why aren't you resting?"

"I'm going to." Bethany turned toward him, her gaze unwavering. "I'm not feeling very well. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."

Brodie paused mid-step, confusion creasing his brow. "Are you sick? Should I get a doctor?"

He reached out instinctively, aiming to touch her forehead.

"That will not be necessary." Bethany shifted back just far enough that his hand met empty air. "Sleep will take care of it."

Brodie froze, his arm hanging uselessly between them, and before he could speak, Bethany slipped into the guest room and shut the door with a quiet, final click.

Left alone in the living room, Brodie stood facing the closed door, a knot of unease forming in his chest that he could not quite name.

...

Early the next morning, Brodie was summoned away by a phone call.

The moment the engine sound faded into the distance, Bethany's eyes opened. She was fully awake, no trace of sleep lingering.

After breakfast, just as she was preparing to step out, her phone rang. Olivia Lawson, her bestie.

Bethany's lips curved faintly before she answered.

"Bethany, are you alright?" Olivia blurted, her tone sharp with worry. "I was at a party last night, and I swear I saw Brodie! He was with a woman, acting way too close! I almost marched over to confront them, but my friends dragged me back—"

"I know, Olivia. I'm already planning to divorce him," Bethany replied, her voice level and steady.

Bethany sent the photo to Olivia.

Olivia took one look and nearly snapped her phone in half. "That bastard Brodie! And who is that shameless woman? I swear I'll rip her hair out strand by strand!"

"Karen Jenkins, she's Brodie's very first love," said Bethany in a flat tone.

"You should have left Brodie the jerk a long time ago. Honestly, you ought to speak up and expose them online. Let people tear them apart and call Karen a home wrecker for the rest of her life."

A cold smile glimmered across Bethany's lips. "I'm waiting for the right timing. Screaming and making a scene in public is pointless. It makes me look foolish and solves nothing."

She paused, her tone turning more deliberate. "Olivia, I need your help with something."

"Say the word! Money, contacts, whatever you need! I've wanted to expose Brodie's fake saint routine for years," Olivia said, practically buzzing with outrage.

Bethany's chest warmed with genuine gratitude. It felt good to know she wasn't alone.

"Olivia, I need you to locate a safe and private apartment for me, and also look into Karen's background as much as you can."

"Okay. Leave it to me," Olivia replied without hesitation.

...

Brodie strode into the company, only to be met by his assistant, Callum Marsh, whose face carried a heavy look.

"Mr. Wilson, we have a problem. The Taylor Group announced it is terminating the Evergreen Pharma collaboration. They refused to discuss it further," reported Callum.

"That doesn't make sense. Our cooperation has been going smoothly." Brodie stopped mid-step, confusion tightening his features.

"I heard it was decided by their new CEO. We have poured so much money into this project. If the partnership fails, our cash flow will be in real danger!"

Brodie's expression shifted, and he turned to Callum. "A new CEO? Who is it?"

"His name is Jonathan Taylor!"

"What? That man?" Brodie's expression shifted, and his brows pulled into a tight frown.

Jonathan Taylor. The name carried the weight of absolute power and ruthless methods in the business world. He was known for being nearly impossible to handle, influential in every circle yet quiet and composed.

For the past two years, Jonathan had focused on overseas ventures. No one anticipated his sudden return, much less his decision to seize control of the Taylor Group—and certainly not that his first decisive action would strike at the Wilson Group.

"What was their justification? They can't dissolve a contract without presenting a reason," Brodie demanded as he moved toward the CEO's office.

Callum rushed to stay beside Brodie, his tone dark. "Their official statement claims that after a new assessment, they believe Evergreen Pharma has major uncertainties in the core technical stability and the later clinical data support of the new oral liquid project, which does not meet the Taylor Group's investment risk control standards."

"That's ridiculous!" Brodie spat, pushing open the office door with more force than necessary. "They approved our clinical data long ago and were pleased with it! This excuse is garbage."

Tugging at his tie, he dropped into the chair behind the grand desk with irritation.

The Wilson Group's entire future rested on the Evergreen Pharma project. If it failed, the next three years would be a financial graveyard.

"Get in touch with Jonathan. I want to speak with him myself," Brodie said, his tone clipped as he attempted to rein in his growing panic.

Jonathan lounged on the plush sofa in his high-rise hotel suite, the top buttons of his black shirt undone, giving him an air of effortless confidence.

A soft knock sounded before Robert stepped inside, folders in hand. "Mr. Taylor, here's the background report on Brodie. Also, since we ended things with Wilson Group, he's been calling nonstop trying to reach you."

Jonathan barely glanced at the paperwork, uninterested in the details for now.

"Don't bother returning his calls," he said, his tone cool and resolute. "His suffering will be endless and anguished."

Confusion flickered across Robert's face. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, why single out the Wilson Group? Did Brodie do something to provoke you?"

A single cold look from Jonathan was enough to silence any further questions, the weight of his authority instantly filling the room.

A shiver ran through Robert, who quickly bowed his head. "Apologies, Mr. Taylor. I shouldn't have pried. On another note, there's an invitation here for a business banquet this Friday. Would you like to attend?"

Jonathan drummed his fingers against the sofa's arm, considering the invitation. "Will Brodie be there?"

"He's listed as a guest. He usually brings his wife to these gatherings, and I'd bet he'll be working the room harder than ever now that the Taylor Group dropped his company. He's desperate to find new allies," Robert replied, keeping his voice steady.

The mention of Brodie bringing his wife to the event brought a faint, knowing smile to Jonathan's lips, a spark of intrigue flickering in his eyes. "I'll go to the banquet."

Robert, caught off guard for just a second, quickly regained his composure. "Understood, Mr. Taylor."

As Robert moved to exit, Jonathan spoke up again. "Also, arrange for Cirrus Mansion to be ready. I'll be moving in tomorrow."

That announcement left Robert both surprised and secretly delighted. "So you're finally staying in the city for a while!"

Jonathan's time in recent years had been spent mostly abroad, each visit home short and packed with business obligations before he'd disappear again.

Only one ritual never changed—no matter how busy he was, he always made time to see someone special, slipping away for half a day every visit.

Nobody on his team knew who it was. The whole thing was shrouded in secrecy.

Once, curiosity got the better of Robert, and he dared to ask.

Jonathan's reply was cool and dismissive. "Just a fool."

Jonathan waved Robert out, ending the conversation. With the room finally quiet, he reached for Brodie's file and began flipping through the pages at a relaxed pace.

His attention paused on the name "Bethany" listed under spouse, along with the sparse details of her background.

A small passport photo of Bethany was clipped to the file, capturing a face marked by delicate features and a steady, determined gaze.

Jonathan tapped his fingers against the desk, his expression unreadable as a storm of emotion flickered in his eyes.

One line in the report stopped him cold—"Forced his wife, Bethany, to undergo a bone marrow extraction to save Karen." Instantly, a chill entered his stare and the whole room seemed to tighten around him.

His finger pressed hard against the paper as he repeated her name in his mind.

Bethany.

So that sickly, fragile look he had noticed wasn't an accident—it was the result of everything she'd been forced to endure.

Brodie had sacrificed his own wife's well-being for the sake of another woman. That was a cruelty Jonathan couldn't ignore.

A dangerous smile crept across Jonathan's lips. Brodie would not escape the consequences.

...

Friday night arrived with the city shining bright, and the grand ballroom of the Glory Hotel buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses.

Bethany swept into the hall beside Brodie, draped in a champagne gown that shimmered under the lights and adorned with a set of diamonds he had chosen. Every detail was perfect, from her polished look to the graceful air she carried.

The couple drew instant attention as they entered arm in arm.

Brodie flashed a proud smile at his elegant wife, clearly pleased by the admiring stares they received.

Bethany's poise and beauty had always served as Brodie's favorite "show piece" in any crowd.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilson. Good evening, Mrs. Wilson." One guest after another came by with polite greetings.

Brodie navigated the room with practiced charm, while Bethany wore her carefully curated smile, slipping easily into the role of the loving wife at his side.

"I'm going to step out for a moment." A soft tilt of her head brought her lips close to his ear.

He squeezed her hand in response, barely glancing her way. "Don't take too long."

His attention drifted elsewhere, scanning the ballroom for any sign of Jonathan's arrival.

After freshening up in the restroom, Bethany found the air inside stifling. She slipped out to the small garden in the back, seeking a quiet breath away from the crowd.

Just as she began to relax, a silken, deliberately provocative voice called out behind her. "You must be Bethany."

Bethany stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face the speaker. Standing before her was a woman draped in a bold red backless gown, every line calculated to draw the eye.

It was Karen.

"That's right. What do you want?" Bethany replied, her tone icy and her eyes unreadable.

Clicking confidently across the stones, Karen closed the distance between them, every step punctuated by the sound of her heels.

A slight tilt of Karen's head was matched by a sweet, almost childlike smile. "Nothing really. I've just heard so much about you, Mrs. Wilson. Brodie's always praising you for being such a devoted wife."

Bethany returned the courtesy with a cold, distant smile. "That's kind of you, Miss Jenkins. Oddly enough, I've never heard him mention you."

Karen's expression faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. "Brodie probably doesn't want you to get the wrong idea. He and I work closely these days, and he always looks out for me. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Bethany answered smoothly. "But maybe you should be concerned. There's nothing glamorous about being called a mistress, is there?"

"You!" Karen's hands shook with barely controlled anger.

Damn it! So, Bethany already knew. All the better—there was no need for pretense now.

"You can blame me all you want, but holding onto a man who doesn't love you is pointless, don't you think?" Karen began.

Her eyes sparkled with a cruel innocence. "Oh, and just so you know, Brodie gave me that good luck charm you made for him when I wasn't feeling well. He said it might bring me luck. But honestly, I tossed it—anything that's touched another woman isn't worth keeping."