Thanks to Camila's generosity, Carmen and I became the only college graduates from our small town.

I had hoped to work for Camila after graduation, but Carmen seized the opportunity and ended up entangled with Nathaniel, which drove Camila to her grave.

Carmen smugly rubbed her belly and said to me, "Camila was too naive. She couldn't have a child, and you know a wealthy man can’t go without an heir!"

Her ingratitude enraged me, and I resolved to seek revenge through Nathaniel.

Nathaniel might be low on energy, but with my natural charisma, I was born to nurture. Carmen might dream of gaining power through motherhood, but she can't outshine me.

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On the day Carmen moved into the Thompson estate, she couldn't contain her excitement and overloaded Instagram with five posts. Each showcased a different luxury car, designer watch, or lavish wardrobe, as though she had already claimed victory.

I chuckled to myself, knowing how shocked Carmen would be to discover that I was here too.

I turned off my phone and shifted my focus to Nathaniel. Even in his drunken state, he maintained an air of controlled intensity—how did he captivate Camila to such a disastrous end?

As Nathaniel's secretary, observing my boss while he was drunk felt improper, yet he was crucial to my plot for vengeance. How else could I understand my tool without careful examination?

My fingers traced down his body, ignoring his involuntary shivers. After slipping off his shoes, I prepared to leave.

“Brooklynn? Where are you going?” His voice was steady and rasped with desire.

So, he had been awake, feigning sleep all along.

With Camila gone, he had no reason to remain celibate. After that chaotic night with Carmen disrupted the household, he was extra cautious with women, always requiring clear intentions before getting involved.

But men, they love variety, especially dishes as tempting as me, with a figure unlike the graceful Camila.

Realizing I held no malicious intent, Nathaniel offered a subtle invitation, and I turned back to him.

Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating our faces as silence enveloped us, allowing our bodies to intertwine, filling the room with a seductive aura.

The next morning, when we appeared together at breakfast, Carmen's scream pierced the air.

"Brooklynn! You wretched woman! How dare you seduce Nathaniel!"

She pointed at the faint red marks on my neck, ready to storm over, drawing curious glances from the household staff.

"Calm down," Nathaniel murmured, frowning slightly as he placed an arm in front of me, inadvertently drawing Carmen into his embrace to shield her belly from the table.

She fell into his arms and switched to a coy tone, "Nathaniel, I'm worried you'll be deceived by this schemer."

I regarded her with disdain. Nathaniel was nearly forty—calling him uncle might be more appropriate.

Moreover, his furrowed brows signaled his dislike for her sugarcoated voice.

I lowered my head humbly, “Nathaniel, I've delivered the documents. I'll head back to the office now.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise at my deft intervention, and he looked at me with amused curiosity, “Alright.”

I hadn’t walked far when the sound of Carmen's whining grew louder behind me, "Nathaniel, you won’t fall for Brooklynn, will you? Don’t look at her! I have the baby!"

I masked my disdain with lowered eyes. A baby? More like a cursed burden.

It was this child that drove Camila into despair—a lady as gentle as roses, who chose self-destruction over retaliation against Carmen.

Back then, Carmen ingratiated herself with Camila, coaxing her into bringing her to the estate for a taste of luxury, only to sneak into Nathaniel’s bed that night.

Once she confirmed her pregnancy, she relentlessly tormented Camila with talk of her hopes for the child, the pains of pregnancy, and cruel remarks that "wives who can’t bear children are disgraceful."

Everyone knew Nathaniel and Camila had been childless after twenty years of marriage.

But Camila was like a mother reborn to us, and Carmen exploited those tender emotions to torment her.

Such a gracious and elegant lady, unable to sever her ties to love, yet unwilling to dishonor the Thompsons, truly swallowed sleeping pills as atonement.

And Carmen thought she had struck gold, initially aiming to extort child support, but unexpectedly found a chance to cement her place.

She even made a spectacle at Camila’s funeral, demanding to meet the Thompsons’ elders, and ultimately, with her two-month pregnancy, moved into the Thompsons’ estate.

Carmen documented all these details on Twitter, one day pushing a notification to my phone.

It must be fate, entrusting me—someone deeply familiar with Carmen and greatly admiring Camila—to uphold justice.

Now, as I listened to the conversation behind me, I intentionally swayed my hips, making my progress seem laborious, surely reminding Nathaniel of last night's intensity.

How could Nathaniel, a man accustomed to commanding, endure Carmen’s incessant meddling for long?

Isn't it just about having a child? My family produced kids endlessly, with eleven siblings born every year without fail.

And my physique surpasses even my mother's. Carmen, you just wait.

On the third day of relative calm, Nathaniel called me into his office, his long, narrow eyes fixed on me in silence. I feigned ignorance, adopting a humble posture as if awaiting a reprimand.

Unexpectedly, he chuckled. "Brooklynn, you’re quite composed. Join me for dinner at my house tonight."

It wasn't a request; it was an order. I hesitated slightly. "If I decline, will it cost me my job?"

Nathaniel's fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk, his demeanor unchanged. "Why? Do you dislike spending time with me, or is there someone else in the picture?"

"No, I just don't want to trouble you, Mr. Thompson. Carmen is still resting, and she's quite sensitive."

Nathaniel likes everything to unfold exactly as he envisions it—his nearly obsessive work goals are evidence of that. Using Carmen as an excuse was bound to irritate him, and sure enough, the tapping quickened.

In the end, he took me home. He needed someone compliant to provide comfort.

As soon as we entered, we were greeted by Carmen’s playful laughter, deliberately softened to sound gentle. I knew who she was mimicking. Camila always spoke like a gentle stream flowing through a valley, soothing and calming. And Carmen? Just a novice, thinking that lowering her voice and slowing her speech could achieve the same effect—how amusing.

The household staff doted on her, congratulating her on being the first woman Nathaniel brought home, predicting she’d soon be the lady of the house. Carmen didn’t deny it, her laughter as bright as a blooming daisy.

I glanced down at my flat stomach. Carmen becoming the lady of the house? That seemed premature. After all, wasn’t I brought home the same day?

With everyone's focus on her pregnancy, how could I, someone eager to stir the pot, let the opportunity slip by?

"Doesn’t anyone have work to do?" Nathaniel said, walking toward them.

Carmen jumped up and rushed over, but her smile flickered when she saw me. Nathaniel barely touched her arm, reverting to his usual demeanor. She shot me a sharp look, though she continued to speak with a playful tone, while I simply kept my head down, feigning ignorance.

Before Carmen could finish speaking, Nathaniel interrupted and led me to the dining table without sparing her a glance. I followed obediently—one dominant presence in the Thompson house was more than enough.

Calmness and silence were crucial to keeping Nathaniel content at moments like these. The staff were quick to read the room, setting the tableware for me first, then for Carmen.

And when it was time for post-dinner activities, Nathaniel naturally chose me; after all, it wouldn’t do to tire out a pregnant woman.

We ascended the spiral staircase, catching a glimpse of Carmen’s tantrum through the gaps in the banister. Her gritted teeth were somewhat endearing; there's a certain wild beauty in young women, even when they’re upset. I was almost moved—almost, but not quite.

After all, she’d used those very words to provoke Camila. If I could, I'd make sure she couldn’t speak so freely next time.