I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school.

By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official.

But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him.

Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you."

My whole body went cold.

And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter.

The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed."

June, four years ago.

That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love.

He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.

Richard Pascall's black Bentley rolled to a stop at the school gates.

He stepped out first, his suit sharp, his face glowing with that too-polished smile. My heart stupidly leapt for a second—I thought maybe he'd come to support me and Tristan Pascall.

Then the passenger door opened.

Iris Poole slid out, swinging her hips as if she were walking a runway. She was the heiress of Poole Corporation and Richard's long-time "business partner".

The moment her heels hit the pavement, she hooked her arm through Richard's, as if she owned him. She had her chin tilted, her eyes locked on me; it felt as if she was showing who was boss.

Before I could even breathe, Tristan's little hand slipped out of mine. His whole face lit up as he shouted, "Mama Iris! Did you bring my special-edition Transformer?"

Iris's smile was instant and sweet as candy. She reached into her Hermès bag and pulled out a shiny gift box.

"Of course I did, sweetheart. I never forget a promise I made to you. Anything you want, I'll get it for you."

"Thanks, Mama Iris! You're way better than that bossy mom at home!"

He clutched the box tightly and ran to her side without even glancing back at me.

I froze, my chest hollowing out. Tristan glanced at me once, rolled his eyes, and then wrapped his arms around Iris's leg.

Right then, Richard walked over, looking annoyed instead of ashamed. "Who told you to come here on your own? Didn't I say I'd handle this?"

His eyes skimmed my outfit, and he sneered, "Seriously, look at you. You can't show up to something this important dressed like that. You're embarrassing me."

I looked down at my clothes. I was wearing a custom-tailored dress. Sure, it didn't have any flashy logos, but it was elegant all the same.

I lifted my eyes back to him, my voice shaking with anger. "Richard, what is going on? Why is she even here?"

Richard opened his mouth, but Iris spoke first. She let out a little laugh, as if she'd been waiting for her cue.

"Ms. Willis, I guess you don't understand how business works since you spend all your time playing house, cooking and cleaning. Pascall International went public today. Richard needed a proper partner by his side for the IPO ceremony, so of course, I went with him. That's why we were late. Hope you don't mind."

Every word was dripping with fake sweetness, but she didn't once call me Mrs. Pascall. Just Ms. Willis, over and over again. It was obvious she had no respect for me.

Heat rose in my throat, but I forced myself to breathe. So, Pascall International went public today. Funny, no one had told me.

Before I could press him, a teacher in a navy blazer walked over, all polite smiles. "Mr. and Mrs. Pascall, the interviews are almost over. Please hand in your documents right away."

Richard gave a sharp nod but looked straight at Iris when he did.

That was it for me. My patience snapped.

This was my son's future. I'd planned and worked for this all year long. I wasn't about to let Richard hand it over to Iris like a gift.

I stepped forward quickly, pulling our marriage certificate from my bag and placing it firmly in the teacher's hands.

"Here you go. Everything else has already been submitted."

The teacher smiled politely, nodded, and walked off toward the admissions office.

Richard's face twisted with anger.

Iris folded her arms, smirking as if she was watching the best show of her life.

And in that moment, staring at the two of them, I realized—something about this was way bigger than just today.

A few minutes later, the doors of the school building swung open again.

But it wasn't the same teacher from before. This time, it was Teresa Madron, the dean of admissions herself, walking straight toward me. Her face was cold as she handed me my marriage certificate.

"Ms. Willis, I'm sorry," she said flatly. "We just verified this through the official records. There's no trace of your marriage certificate in the government registry, which means it's invalid."

My mind exploded into static.

"That's impossible!" I shot back. "Richard and I got this seven years ago!"

Teresa gave me a tight, uncomfortable look. "But according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you."

The words weren't even cold yet before the other parents burst out laughing.

"Wow, did she seriously bring a fake certificate?"

"She must be desperate. Who tries to scam their way into a school?"

"No wonder she looks so plain. You can tell she doesn't belong here."

"Women these days will do anything just to marry rich."

And then Iris laughed. Not loudly, but just enough to slice right through me.

She brushed past my shoulder as if I were in her way and smiled sweetly at Teresa. "Sorry about that, Ms. Madron. She's just the nanny from my husband's family. She must've gotten confused and brought the wrong paperwork."

Then she gave me a sharp side-eye, pulled a folder out of her designer bag, and handed it over.

"This is the real marriage certificate for Richard and me, plus the official sponsorship paperwork for Tristan. Everything should be in order now, right?"

Something in me snapped. I lunged forward and snatched it out of Teresa's hands.

The piece of paper was stamped with an official seal. My hands shook as I looked at Richard and Iris's names, written in full.

And the date—seven and a half years ago.

It was six months before my wedding. Before the day Richard slipped a fake certificate into my hands and called me his forever.

I held the papers up, staring at Richard as if my whole world had just been turned upside down.

He finally dropped the act. His smile vanished, and his voice was cold and sharp. "Yvette, let's stop pretending. Iris is my legal wife. The certificate you're holding is fake."

"Fake…" The word tumbled out of me, broken and small. It felt as if the ground were tilting under my feet.

Around us, a crowd of parents had already gathered, whispering loud enough for me to hear every word.

"My, is this a wife catching the mistress in public?"

"She was a side chick for seven years, and she even had a kid? And now she's trying to force her way in? The nerve."

"Look at her plain outfit. She's nothing but a gold digger. Mr. Pascall probably got bored and moved on."

I turned toward Tristan, the boy I had carried for nine months and raised for six years. I was sure he'd be on my side.

But instead, Tristan hid behind Iris, peeking out just long enough to glare at me.

"You liar! So, you're not even Dad's wife! I always wished I had a mom like Mama Iris. She owns a big company, and she buys me whatever toys I want. And you, you just make me do homework. You don't give me anything."

Iris tightened her arm around him, smiling at me as if she'd already won.

Something inside me caught fire. I grabbed their marriage certificate and ripped it into pieces.

Richard's face went dark. "Yvette, are you out of your mind? You're jealous because you don't have it, so you destroy it? You’re acting like a petty townsfolk."

I froze where I stood, his words cutting straight through me.

The cold spread from my chest to my fingertips. Everything I had given him and every sacrifice I made for this family felt like the punchline of some cruel joke.

For years, he claimed he was too busy getting the company back on track, so I stayed home, raising our son and running the house, carrying the weight.

In public, he paraded me around to prove how "perfect" his life was, that he had a successful career and a happy little family. I had always played along, never once calling him out.

And all the while, he thought he could climb right over me and treat me as if I was disposable.

What he didn't know was that I wasn't just anyone. I was Yvette Willis, the head of the Willises, the richest family in all of Rendallton.

And Richard had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

I laughed at Richard. "You're calling me a petty townsfolk? You're basically insulting yourself."

My smile sharpened. "Don't forget, your dad handpicked me to be his daughter-in-law. You really wanna treat me like this?"

For a split second, panic flickered across his face. But just as quickly, he smoothed it over with a smug smirk.

"So what?" Richard sneered. "You really think that means I married you for love? Please. Don't flatter yourself."

Iris, standing there as if she owned the place, leaned in with her voice dripping sweet poison.

"Yvette, you can't blame Richard. You should blame yourself for being so naïve. A regular woman like you could never keep up with his ambition. Me? I can give him Poole Corporation's power, connections, and money. What do you have? Love?" She snorted. "That won't even buy you a cup of coffee."

Her words burned through me, making my whole body shake. My hand flew up, and I was ready to slap her across the face when Richard's hand clamped around my wrist. His grip was iron-tight, hurting me.

"Enough!" he snapped. "Yvette, stop embarrassing yourself here."

He shoved me hard. I stumbled back, my heel twisting, and I crashed onto the ground.

My palm scraped the rough floor, and fire shot through my hand.

Richard looked down at me coldly. "For Tristan's sake, I'll give you one last shred of dignity. But don't push me, or I won't hold back."

He turned away as if I was nothing, then he wrapped one arm around Iris's waist and held Tristan's hand.

Tristan's little face was glowing with excitement as the three of them walked through the school gates, looking like the perfect picture of a happy family.

I pressed my hands against the cold pavement, rage roaring inside me. I wasn't going to let any of them get away with this.

I forced myself up, only to see Iris dragging Tristan back toward me.

Then, with a loud smack, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. I hadn't even gotten steady before she hit me again, knocking me back to the ground.

"You home-wrecking tramp!" she screamed, her voice shrill and shaking with fury. "You deserve to be taught a lesson!"

My face throbbed, the taste of blood sharp on my tongue.

Then the kicks and punches started raining down—her fists, her heels, all of it landing on me again and again.

"I'll end this today!" Iris snarled. "I'll beat you until you stop ruining other people's marriages!"

I curled in on myself, gasping for air, too beaten down to fight back.

Meanwhile, Tristan clapped his hands and cheered her on. "Get her! Kill the witch! Go, Mama Iris!"

Something inside me cracked.

That was when my phone buzzed quietly in my pocket.

It was a message from Phil Curry.

[Everything's ready, Ms. Willis. Just say the word.]

I staggered to my feet, my eyes locking onto Iris as she bounced around, still fuming.

She saw me stand and snarled, lunging to yank at my hair. "How dare you look at me like that, you wench!"

I shoved her off and straightened my clothes, fixing my hair with calm, deliberate movements. Then I lifted my chin and stared her down, my gaze slicing through the crowd.

For a moment, Iris faltered. She actually took a step back.

But she caught herself, barking out another insult. "Don't act tough with me! If it weren't for Tristan's admission interview today, I'd really show you what happens when you cross me. Just you wait!"

With that, she grabbed Tristan's hand and stormed into the school building.

I looked down. Our marriage certificate was lying there, trampled under muddy heels.

It sat on the ground like a mirror of me—six years of giving everything for this family, only to be crushed.

I inhaled deeply, then pulled out my phone and called Phil.

"Brighton International Academy. Come and handle things now."

I ended the call and walked forward, ignoring the shocked whispers around me.

-

Inside the interview room, the air buzzed with fake cheer.

Hank Stone, the overweight principal, was practically groveling as he spoke to Richard and Iris.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pascall, don't worry. Your son is clearly brilliant. We'd be honored to have him at our school. I'll handle his admission paperwork personally."

Richard leaned back in his chair, soaking in the praise like a king on his throne.

Iris lifted her coffee cup, smirking at me as I stood in the doorway.

Hank picked up the stamp that would seal Tristan's acceptance. Just as he was about to press it down, his phone rang.

He answered it casually, but the longer he listened, the paler his face grew.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. His hand trembled as he stammered, "Y-yes… I understand. I'll take care of it right away!"