Going to his office to deliver lunch that afternoon was a complete whim. I hadn't texted him.

In the lobby, the receptionist recognized me instantly and waved me through to his private executive floor.

I had been to Vance Capital many times.

Silas never hid me; he would confidently introduce me to his board members and those cutthroat partners, saying, "This is my wife."

He always spoke with an old-money aristocratic gravity and formality that naively led me to believe our relationship was unbreakable, strong enough to weather any storm.

But life is a cruel, merciless writer. It gives you a beautiful dream to lower your defenses, only to shatter it and force you to confront the brutal reality underneath.

I stepped off the elevator and walked down the thick-carpeted corridor toward his corner office. Through the half-open glass door of the adjacent private lounge, I saw him.

My husband was engaged in a lively conversation with a woman.

In her hands, she held the delicate stainless-steel bento box I had packed for him that morning.

Serena Thorne hadn't changed a bit since our college days. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in effortless waves, and when she smiled, her eyes curved into half-moons, making her look like a seemingly harmless cat.

"Thank you so much, Silas," Serena said softly. "The breakfast was absolutely delicious."

"It's nothing," Silas said evenly, taking the empty container from her hands.

Serena opened her mouth to say something else, but her gaze drifted over his shoulder and landed on me, frozen in the hallway. An exaggerated look of surprise instantly bloomed on her face.

"Nina?!" she gasped, practically skipping over to me. "Oh my god, it's been so long!"

She reached out to grab my hand but noticed the insulated lunch bag I was carrying. She feigned a frown. "Are you here to drop off Silas's lunch? Wait... did you make the breakfast from this morning too?"

She pressed a hand to her chest, her face a picture of innocent guilt. "Honey, I am so sorry. My blood sugar was so low this morning, and I was just dropping by, so Silas insisted I eat it. If I had known you made it specifically for him, I never would have touched it."

Serena flashed me a brilliant, blinding smile. "I have to say, though, Nina, your cooking is absolutely incredible."

Of course it was. Silas had an infamously sensitive stomach and an extremely picky palate.

I had spent four years, burned my fingers countless times, and stood over scorching stoves to perfect those recipes just for him.

He knew that.

I forced a smile, mirroring hers, and hid my free hand behind my back.

My manicured nails dug so deeply into my palms that the skin broke. Right then and there, under the crushing weight of betrayal and the phantom pain of my cancer, a new emotion quietly took root.

I found the reality of this entirely unacceptable.

It was then that the blurry outlines of a plan for revenge began to come into sharp focus.

Silas wouldn't physically cheat on me.

I knew him. He was shackled by heavy, archaic chains of morality and duty. And yet, Serena's presence ignited a massive, suffocating panic within me.

I doubled down on playing the role of the perfect wife. I wanted to see who would break first under the suffocating weight of this silent war—him or me.

When he returned to the penthouse that evening, he handed me a velvet box. Inside was a stunning pear-shaped pink diamond pendant on a platinum chain. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the price tag was undoubtedly astronomical.

It was beautiful. But I hated it.

Unless I was accompanying Silas to a high-profile charity gala, I rarely wore flashy jewelry.

Silas wasn't the type to offer emotional apologies. I knew exactly what the necklace meant: it was his silent compensation for letting Serena eat the meal I had painstakingly prepared.

I smiled, my eyes crinkling at the corners, and accepted it graciously. I saw the tension bleed out of Silas.

I couldn't tell if he was relieved that I hadn't thrown a hysterical fit, or relieved that I wasn't mad at his precious Serena.

Without a second glance, I tossed the velvet box into my nightstand drawer and climbed into bed.

The minutes ticked by. I stared at the ceiling until Silas finally entered the master bedroom. The mattress dipped under his weight, and a familiar scent washed over me.

He reached out in the dark, his strong arm pulling me back against his chest, holding me tightly.

The warmth of another human body seeped through my silk pajamas. I closed my eyes and forced myself to slow my breathing, feigning the deep, rhythmic breaths of sleep.

I waited until his breathing leveled out before opening my eyes.

The pain in my upper abdomen flared again, a sharp cramp radiating down my back. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting mottled shadows on the wooden floor. I stared at that pale moonlight for a long time until the spacious apartment was dead silent.

It was only then, lying in the arms of the man I loved, that the horrifying reality truly set in.

I was dying.

The next morning, after sending Silas off to work, the calendar notification on my phone vibrated. I glanced at the flashing screen and let out a soft sigh.

Today was the day I visited my mother in Queens.

My parents divorced when I was very young.

My father was a charismatic Wall Street broker who had never loved my mother. He’d been having an affair with a wealthy socialite for years and already had a daughter with her—a daughter older than me.

My mother raised me entirely on her own, working herself to the bone just to make ends meet. Seeing her so exhausted, I swore I would study hard, get scholarships, and make her proud.

However, my luck always seemed to work against me. At the elite private school I attended on scholarship, I became the target of a vicious group of rich kids.

I hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe my clothes were last season; maybe I didn't have a chauffeur to drop me off. The more I tried to ignore them, the more I was tormented.

One afternoon, behind the bleachers, they cornered me. I had a jagged brick hidden in my backpack, fully prepared to take their ringleader down with me. The lead girl sneered and stepped forward, ready to carry out whatever cruel act she had planned.

And then, Silas Vance appeared.

He was an upperclassman, already a legend at the school and the heir to a financial empire. He just stood between us, his gaze commanding, and my bullies scattered like cockroaches.

He was smart; he knew they would come back. For the next three years, he would casually acknowledge me in the hallways, acting as a silent barrier against my tormentors.

I survived middle and high school safely solely because of him.

That was why I had chased him so desperately. I fought to get into Columbia University just to be near him, trying to become someone worthy of his world.

But I was still a step too late.

Just as Silas had been a ray of light in my darkness, he had found a light of his own.

Serena Thorne.

My biological father's daughter. My half-sister.