Three years married to Victor, the Don, and as far as New York was concerned, we were untouchable.

Until my own car was in the shop, so I took his daily driver from the garage.

On the way, I activated the car's smart system and said, "Navigate home."

But the screen pinpointed a place I had never seen before — a villa in the suburbs.

Then, a sugary-sweet voice floated from the speakers: "Okay! Setting course for Victor and Mia's secret castle."

My stomach dropped. Who was Mia? And what secret castle?

Without a second thought, I dialed his number.

"The home address is set to some strange place."

He just laughed it off. "Oh, that. One of my guys' car broke down the other day. I let him use mine to drop someone off."

"Okay, no problem," I said, smiling into the phone.

I ended the call and pulled up the navigation history.

That villa address was listed seventeen times, every single one on a day Victor was supposedly "out of town on business."

I fired up the engine and drove.

Forty minutes later, I was parked outside a villa surrounded by a wall of roses.

"Congratulations! You have arrived at Victor and Mia's secret castle! Your trip is complete," the nav system announced cheerfully.

Just as I was about to get out, I heard footsteps running toward the car.

A young woman darted out of the villa, heading straight for my window.

"Victor, you're here already?" she said, tapping on the glass. Her voice had a playful pout in it. "I'm not even ready for you..."

Then she saw me. Her face froze.

I sized her up. Early twenties, long blonde hair.

And her voice was the exact same one from the navigation system.

"Mrs. Ashford? What are you doing here?" She looked like a frightened little rabbit, but quickly calmed down and forced a shy smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "You know who I am?"

Mia nodded. "I'm Mia. A med student at Columbia. Mr. Ashford puts me through school, and... I've heard him mention you."

My eyes were locked on her. "Is that so? Then why is his car's home address set to this place?"

She suddenly realized what was going on, then self-consciously tugged at the hem of her dress.

"A few days ago, I had terrible stomach pains and called Mr. Ashford's assistant. His car broke down, so he borrowed Mr. Ashford's to take me to the hospital."

She pulled a hospital registration slip and call records.

The evidence looked solid.

But I knew Victor.

He was obsessive about his cars. He never let anyone touch them but me.

My gaze slowly moved from her face, which was filled with innocence, to her neck.

Around her neck hung a delicate platinum chain.

Suspended from the necklace was a rare padparadscha sapphire, surrounded by twelve pink diamonds.

And just like that, my heart turned to stone.

It was a one-of-a-kind piece I had designed myself and commissioned from Cartier.

There was only one in the world. I’d given it to Victor for his birthday. A few weeks ago, he told me he’d lost it.

"That's a beautiful necklace," I said softly. "A gift from your boyfriend?"

Mia instinctively covered it with her hand. "It was... it's..."

"What a coincidence," I said, my smile widening. "It looks exactly like the one my husband lost. Same color, same cut, and everything."

Mia went white as a sheet. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

I knew that was enough.

I started the car and left her standing there.

As soon as I was off the property, I called my assistant, Stella.

"I need you to look into a girl named Mia. Columbia Medical School. I want everything on her."

"Also, pull Victor's real itineraries and financials for the past year."

"And one last thing. Draft the divorce papers."

There were two seconds of silence on the other end, then a crisp, "Yes, Ma'am."

A few minutes later, Victor's name flashed on my screen.

I looked at the caller ID—"My Love"—and let out a bitter laugh.

"Felicity,what's wrong?" his voice came through the receiver, gentle as usual. "I heard you've been digging around. Is it because I've been busy with family business lately and haven't had time for you, so you're feeling insecure?"

He was worried I'd found something.

I suppressed my churning emotions and said calmly, "No, I just suddenly missed you."

He seemed to let out a breath of relief at my reply.

"I miss you too.I promise, as soon as I'm back from this trip, we'll go on that honeymoon we talked about. My little rose."

Before I could answer, I heard the sound of a shower running in the background.

Then, a woman’s voice, clear as day: "Baby, a little harder… that feels so good…"

A wave of nausea hit me.

I suddenly remembered the walls of roses outside the villa.

It turns out I was never his only rose.

Victor didn't come home that night.

I sat in the living room until the early hours of the morning, when an email from Stella arrived.

"Ma'am, here is the information you requested. Mia Rosen, 22, third-year med student at Columbia. I also found her private social media account. There isn't much, but I think you need to see it."

I opened the attachment.

Mia's account had only three posts, but each one was a blade twisting in my gut.

The first was posted three years ago. June 15th.

The night before our wedding.

The photo showed Mia covered in hickies, lying lazily in a man's arms.

The man's face was cropped out, but I knew those hands. Long fingers, with Victor's family signet ring on his pinky.

The caption: "Wearing her wedding dress, sleeping with her man. Tomorrow is her big day, but tonight he's mine."

My hands started to shake.

The second post: eight months ago. September 3rd.

The night I had a miscarriage.

I was in the hospital all night. Victor said he had an urgent meeting and would be there as soon as he could.

The photo was of an ultrasound report.

The caption: "My man is going to be a daddy. While she lost hers, I'm giving him what she couldn't."

The room started to spin.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up everything I'd eaten.

But I forced myself to go back and read the last one.

The third post was from two months ago, on our wedding anniversary.

The background was the nursery I had designed myself—the pale yellow walls, the white crib, the tiny clothes I'd spent a month picking out.

After I lost the baby, I couldn't bear to go in there again. I just had the maids keep it clean.

But in the photo, the crib was a mess of tangled sheets.

The caption: "The old hag is asleep. He says doing it in here is the biggest thrill. Said the thrill of defiling her dreams makes him harder."

My world tilted on its axis.

That night, Victor had come home and held me, telling me, "Don't be sad about the baby, my love. You're the best wife in the world. We'll have another."

And just hours before, he'd been in that same room, with her.

I lost it. I smashed everything in the living room that reminded me of him: our wedding photos, the vases he'd bought me, every piece of art we'd chosen together.

The moonlight glinted off the shattered glass.

Then I ran upstairs and threw every one of Victor's suits into the fireplace.

Watching the flames devour his expensive suits, I felt nothing. Just a hollowed-out cold.

Finally, I remembered the wedding ring. The one Victor had designed for me.

I never wore it, afraid I'd lose it, so I kept it in his safe.

The combination was our wedding anniversary.

How fucking ironic.

I took out the ring. As I was closing the safe, I saw a folder tucked in the corner.

On pure instinct, I opened it.

Inside was a draft of Mia's graduate thesis.

The rage that filled me was white-hot. The core theories, the experimental design, even the methods of data analysis—they were all identical to the research I was about to publish in The Lancet.

My research. The work that had cost me three years of sleepless nights.

The floor fell out from under me.

Victor wasn't just destroying my marriage. He was trying to destroy my life's work and gift it to his whore.

I grabbed my laptop and altered the core data in my own research files.

Then I picked up the phone and dialed the private number for the Dean of Columbia Medical School.

"About your offer to have me as a guest panelist for the thesis defense presentations… I accept."

The Dean was ecstatic.

I hung up and stared out at the cold, dark city.

It was time to give Victor and Mia a gift they would never forget.

Victor came home the next morning while I was eating breakfast in the dining room.

He looked tired. His tie was loose, and his shirt carried the faint scent of a perfume that wasn't mine.

"Morning, baby. Sorry I didn't make it back last night." He walked over and kissed my forehead. "A project at work blew up. I was stuck at the office all night."

I fought back the urge to spit in his face. Without looking up, I kept cutting my eggs. "You must be exhausted."

"Yeah. And I might have to head out again this afternoon. There's a big academic event over at Columbia." He watched my face for a reaction. "You know how important supporting education is to me."

I finally looked up and smiled. "You're a good man, Victor. So civic-minded."

He looked relieved and reached for my hand. "Having a wife like you, Felicity, is my greatest honor."

I just smiled.

At two p.m., the main auditorium at Columbia Medical School was packed.

I arrived early and chose a seat in the back corner.

Victor was in the front row, surrounded by professors who looked at him with a mixture of respect and fear.

Soon, it was Mia's turn to present.

I watched her eyes dart constantly toward Victor, her face glowing with affection and pride.

Victor watched her like she was a masterpiece he had created.

I sat there, listening to her present my work—my theories, my findings—as the audience murmured in admiration. Bile rose in my throat.

To her credit, she presented it well. Every point was clear, every slide professional.

If I didn't know the truth, I might have been impressed myself.

After forty minutes, Mia finished to a round of thunderous applause.

But when the Q&A started, she began to falter.

She hadn't done the work, so she didn't know the details.

That's when Victor stood up.

"Pardon the interruption," he said, approaching the stage. His voice filled the room, heavy with authority. "As Mia’s patron, I've personally witnessed the sleepless nights and the sheer effort she has poured into this research. Her professionalism is beyond question."

He spoke with the quiet certainty of a king. Coming from the Godfather, his word was enough. The judges on the panel exchanged affirmative nods.

"A truly groundbreaking study. Such a remarkable achievement for someone so young…"

"And with the Don himself vouching for her, it must be credible…"

It was a done deal. I could see the smug satisfaction on their faces.

"Well, it seems everyone is very impressed," the Dean said with a smile. "If there are no further questions, then we'll—"

"Wait."

I'd seen enough of this circus. "I have a question."

Victor's face hardened. He shot a look at his men, a silent order to find whoever dared to interrupt.

I slowly took off my sunglasses and smoothed my hair.

Then, as every head in the auditorium turned, I stood up.

On the stage, the smiles on Victor and Mia's faces froze.