"I want a divorce. Draw up the papers." I sat across from the city's top divorce attorney, my voice steady and sure.

The attorney hadn't expected this. After all, I was the woman the tabloids called "the most pathetic trophy wife in America," and here I was, asking to leave my husband of my own free will.

Because according to the rumors, I was the woman so desperate to keep her husband's attention and hold on to the title of Mrs. Delgado that she'd personally groom his mistresses for him.

Other wives spent their energy guarding assets, managing their husbands, raising children.

Me? I devoted myself to training women who suited Malcolm Delgado's tastes, then delivered them straight to his bed.

I caught the shock on the attorney's face but felt no urge to explain.

What he didn't know was that the Hensons' real daughter, Lillian, had recently resurfaced, and I'd been exposed as the imposter all along.

The irony was that Malcolm had fallen for Lillian, so completely that he'd cut off every single one of his mistresses for her.

Those women came crashing into our home in tears. One of them even slit her wrists right there in the foyer, just to force Malcolm to show his face.

He never came. I was the one who cleaned up the mess, handing each of them a ten-million-dollar severance to make them go away.

Three years. I was done. The Hensons' real daughter was back where she belonged, and it was time for me to leave.

When I got home, Malcolm wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hands slipping under my clothes, his voice carrying that lazy, intimate warmth. "Babe, you've spent three years keeping those women in line for me. That's hard work. Tell me what you want as a reward."

I kept my expression blank, pulled the doctored paperwork from my bag, and handed it over. "I've had my eye on a penthouse downtown."

Malcolm signed without so much as a glance.

He was like everyone else. Convinced I'd never leave him. Convinced that the woman who loved him so deeply also craved his money too much to walk away.

But Malcolm didn't know that this time, I was truly done with him.

1

Malcolm scrawled his name on the divorce agreement disguised as a real estate contract, then pulled me into his arms.

"A penthouse isn't nearly enough of a reward. You've been working hard for three whole years, babe."

His hands slid beneath my clothes, unclasping my bra, his voice thick with desire.

"Let's have a baby to keep you company. It's about time I had an heir anyway."

I closed my eyes. A dull ache bloomed behind my ribs.

A baby?

Had he forgotten that three years ago, I'd miscarried because of his affair?

My gaze landed on the smear of lipstick on his collar, vivid as a wound, and my throat went so dry I could barely speak.

"It's late. You're tired. Let's just get some rest."

But he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek, brimming with confidence.

"I'm not tired. Your husband might not be what he was on our wedding night, but three or four rounds? Still got it."

Malcolm let out a low laugh.

"What, you think just because Lillian's back, I'm going to toss you aside?"

"She's a good girl. Just treat her like a little sister. Even if she is the Hensons' real daughter, you'll always be my wife."

"I'm going to shower. Wait for me in bed."

I wanted to tell him I truly didn't care about being Mrs. Delgado.

The truth was, I'd wanted a divorce the very first time Malcolm cheated, three years ago.

I'd fled to my parents' house and hid there for three days. He knelt outside their door for all three of those days, begging me to forgive him, swearing he'd never do it again.

I refused to forgive him. But then the Hensons sat me down and told me I wasn't really their daughter.

They said they'd raised me for over twenty years, and now it was time to repay the debt.

They wanted a hundred million dollars to settle the account for every resource they'd ever spent on me.

They wanted me to remain the chairman's wife for three more years, extending the Hensons' business partnerships with the Delgado Group. That, they said, would square us on the debt of raising me.

With no other choice, I demanded a hundred million from Malcolm as my condition for taking him back, and I went home with him.

Overnight, the whole world decided I'd stayed for the money. Even Malcolm believed I'd changed.

Whatever guilt he'd carried vanished in an instant, and he began sending women to me without restraint, expecting me to polish them to his liking.

But after watching me tend to his mistresses for three years without complaint, he started to feel sorry for me. He decided I must love him so desperately that I'd endure anything.

So every time he sent a new woman my way, he'd reward me with ten million dollars, or a house, or designer bags.

For three years, I devoted myself to cultivating women better suited to Malcolm Delgado's tastes.

I taught his mistresses piano, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Etiquette and horseback riding. The art of managing a man. They mastered it all.

Every one of them was better at pleasing him than I ever was, and he lavished his affection on them, one after another.

Until Lillian, the Hensons' long-lost real daughter, appeared.

Malcolm's heart snapped shut without warning. He cut off every last one of his flings for her.

He never came. I was the one who cleaned up the mess, handing each of them ten million dollars to make them go away.

I remembered one woman in particular who refused to leave, screaming at me until her voice broke.

"Are you proud of yourself, Prudence Henson? No matter how many women cycle through Malcolm's bed, your seat never budges!"

"Too bad it won't last. The real Henson daughter is back, and Malcolm's in love with her. Your days as Mrs. Delgado are numbered!"

Listening to the water running in the bathroom, I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

"I never wanted to fight anyone for that seat."

My three-year agreement with the Hensons had expired. It was time to go.

After his shower, Malcolm kissed me.

His palm settled on my waist, fingertips pressing in with familiar warmth.

Instinct told me to push him away, but if I resisted too hard, he'd know something was off.

Let it go. Just this once. The last time, I told myself.

So I closed my eyes and endured it, tears trapped behind my lashes.

I couldn't understand why Malcolm, whose heart had already moved on, still insisted on performing this charade of devotion.

Faithless and false.

Even though every part of my soul was exhausted by the man in front of me, my body still remembered his warmth with a familiarity I couldn't erase.

After the first time, Malcolm reached for me again.

But his phone rang. The caller was Lillian.

Her voice came through, tearful and trembling:

"Malcolm, I... someone was awful to me. I'm so scared..."

His brow snapped tight. Without a second's hesitation he was out of bed and pulling on his clothes, every trace of laziness gone, replaced by something hard and urgent.

"It's okay. Don't be scared. I'm on my way."

Before, no matter what happened to any of his mistresses, he'd send a bodyguard. He never went himself. He certainly never left in the middle of the night to comfort anyone.

Now, for Lillian, he shattered that rule without blinking.

Malcolm leaned down and brushed a light kiss across my cheek. "I'll be right back, babe."

"Our anniversary is in a week. This year, I promise I'll spend it with you properly."

I watched his back disappear through the door. I'd thought I was past the point of hurting, but bitterness still rose from somewhere deep.

I shook it off quickly, pulled the divorce agreement from my bag, and sent it to the attorney.

His reply lit up my screen almost instantly: "Seven days, tops. I'll have everything finalized."

After closing the conversation, I swallowed the contraceptive pill I'd prepared.

Three years ago, I'd been pregnant too. At six weeks, I walked into the parking garage and caught Malcolm kissing one of his employees in the back seat of his car.

I lost control completely. His mistress shoved me, taunting me as I stumbled, and I miscarried right there.

I never considered carrying Malcolm Delgado's child again after that.

The memory of the procedure surfaced unbidden, pain so sharp it had felt like an execution.

I forced myself to breathe, slow and deep, until the trembling stopped, and began packing the things I'd take with me.

But when I opened the closet and saw the white dress tucked away at the very back, my heart clenched before I could stop it.

Seven years ago, when Malcolm and I first fell in love, the Delgado family wanted nothing to do with a small-town merchant's daughter.

Malcolm stood before his entire family and swore he'd marry no one else in this lifetime.

The Delgados cut off his resources. So he took my hand, and we started over from a tiny rented apartment, building everything from nothing.

During that time, he never once made me feel like I was suffering. Every bit of money he earned went toward little gifts for me, dresses he'd picked out himself.

Eventually the Delgados couldn't bear watching their heir struggle and grudgingly approved the marriage.

The day I entered the Delgado household, I knelt in the family chapel for twenty-four straight hours with a porcelain bowl balanced on my head, never letting a single drop of water spill, until his mother was finally satisfied.

I had walked into that marriage because of his love. Fearlessly. Without looking back.

Now that the love was gone, there was no reason left to stay.

I tossed every dress and every gift from those rented-apartment days into the trash without a shred of hesitation.

Once the divorce was finalized, I'd move abroad and start over.

And I was never coming back.

The next morning, I came downstairs to find Malcolm standing in the middle of the living room.

A girl stood beside him, timidly clutching the edge of his sleeve.

I didn't ask a single question. I walked straight into the kitchen and grabbed my breakfast.

Footsteps approached from behind, and a familiar presence enveloped me.

Malcolm rested his chin against my shoulder, his voice low and laced with amusement.

"The other girls in the Henson family's branch families keep picking on Lillian. She can't handle that kind of environment, so I brought her here to stay for a few days."

The jasmine perfume clinging to him was impossible to miss.

My lashes trembled, but I pretended not to recognize whose scent it was. "I'll have the housekeeper prepare the guest room."

Malcolm hadn't expected me to be this calm. His thumb traced slow circles over the back of my hand.

"Since she's staying here, I need you to play the big sister. Teach her some social graces, how to carry herself. Thirty million dollars. Consider it compensation for the trouble."

"Fine."

Malcolm studied my uncharacteristic composure, sensing something was off. "Are you upset?"

I lifted my gaze. My tone was flat. "No."

He sighed. "Is it because she's the Hensons' real daughter? You think she's going to take your place?"

"Don't worry, that won't happen. I'll smooth things over with the Hensons. I'll give them new contracts. They'll still claim you as their daughter."

The corner of my mouth twitched into the kind of practiced, hollow smile I'd perfected over three years.

Lillian watched me cautiously, and the moment my eyes swept in her direction, she shrank behind Malcolm.

He reached back and gently nudged her forward, his voice dripping with indulgence. "This is your sister, not a monster. What are you so afraid of?"

It was the first time I really looked at Lillian Henson.

Small face. Round eyes.

She looked nothing like me, and nothing like any of his past lovers.

No wonder Malcolm treated her differently.

I turned away and sat down to eat.

Lillian seemed to gather her courage. She picked up a bowl of porridge and walked toward me.

"I got you some porridge, sis..."

Before she could finish, her wrist jerked violently.

Scalding porridge splashed across my body.

Before I could even react, she let out a sharp cry and threw herself into Malcolm's arms.

"I didn't mean to! She pinched me, it hurt so bad I couldn't hold it steady..."

Malcolm's first instinct was to check on me, but the moment he heard her words, his head snapped down to examine the back of her hand.

Sure enough, a red mark bloomed across the skin.

His brow furrowed. He looked up and glared at me. "Prudence, why the hell are you bullying her?"

"She's not like those other women. Don't take out your frustrations on her!"

I almost laughed.

Malcolm hadn't hesitated for a single second before believing Lillian's accusation and turning on me.

Lillian burrowed deeper into his arms, whimpering softly.

"Does she not like me? If I'm causing problems, I can go back to where I was before..."

She kept her head down, the picture of wounded selflessness.

Malcolm's hand settled on her shoulder. He patted it gently, his voice tender. "Don't overthink it."

"Prudence, apologize to Lillian. Then we'll put this behind us."

He turned to me, and his tone left no room for refusal.

Enough, Prudence. What are you still expecting from this man?

My expression went cold. I grabbed Lillian's hand and squeezed hard, digging my fingers into her skin.

The back of her hand swelled instantly.

"That is what a pinch feels like. Now you know."

I released her. My voice was ice.

"If you're going to play games, at least learn to play them well. That was embarrassing."

I turned and walked upstairs without sparing Malcolm a single glance.

By the time he finished consoling Lillian and came looking for me, I had already changed.

He walked over, his tone gentle. "Lillian really isn't the scheming type. She just got a little jealous, threw a small tantrum. Don't hold it against her."

I lowered my eyes to hide what I was feeling and offered no opinion on his assessment of "not the scheming type."

Malcolm seemed pleased by my compliance. He reached for me.

I stepped aside.

His hand froze mid-air. His brow creased. "What's wrong? Still angry?"

"My period's about to start. I'm not feeling well."

I fought to keep my composure, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles went white.

This time, all I could do was refuse. The contraceptive pills were brutal on my body, and I didn't dare take them again so soon.

Malcolm's interest visibly cooled. He was about to leave.

But as he turned, his elbow caught the nightstand.

A sharp clatter. A box of pills hit the floor.

He looked down. The moment he read the label, his face went dark.

"Prudence, you've been taking birth control?!"

"I've been regulating my cycle." I snatched the pills back, forcing my voice steady.

Malcolm laughed in disbelief, his eyes going cold.

"You don't want to carry my child, is that it?!"

He stared at my face, at the distance that had settled there without either of us noticing when it began. Fury surged through him, though beneath it flickered something he refused to acknowledge: panic.

My silence was answer enough.

"Wonderful."

To mask that sliver of unease, Malcolm released me with a shove so abrupt it bordered on violent.

"If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will!"

He stormed out and into the guest bedroom, dragging Lillian back with him.

He sat her on the edge of the bed, his voice deliberately low, almost coaxing. "Lillian, would you be willing to have my baby?"

Lillian's cheeks flushed. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know how."

Malcolm let out a quiet laugh. It was soft but carried no warmth. His gaze drifted past her and landed squarely on me, bright with undisguised humiliation.

"That's fine."

"Your sister will teach you."

My head snapped up. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, and for a second I was sure I'd misheard.

Malcolm was going to sleep with Lillian right in front of me and make me coach them through it?

"She's taught plenty of women what to do in bed. One more won't make a difference."

He spoke slowly, his tone airy, laced with contempt.

Something seized my heart and squeezed. I thought of our wedding night seven years ago, Malcolm holding my hand, murmuring against my hair:

"You don't have to learn any of that servant nonsense my mother talks about. I'd never let you suffer even the smallest indignity."

My nails dug into my palms until they nearly broke the skin. I couldn't feel the pain.

Humiliation swallowed me whole.

I watched, eyes open, as the man who was still legally my husband pressed another woman into the bed and lavished her with tenderness.

I didn't want to watch. He made me guide them.

I was pinned in place, and whatever warmth remained inside me cooled degree by degree.

Until there was nothing left but dead, frozen silence.

Malcolm told me what to say, and I said it.

Calm as a puppet with its strings pulled taut.

When it was over, Lillian looked up with wounded eyes, her voice cottony and soft.

"Am I boring? I don't know anything. I'm not as good as she is..."

Malcolm leaned down to soothe her, his expression sated.

"You're nothing like her."

"She's a tramp. She knows every trick in the book because she trained her old lovers one by one."

"But you're innocent. Pure as a blank page. That's what makes you irresistible."

I let out a hollow laugh.

When we first married, I'd been curious about all of it. The two of us would hide under the covers, blushing, figuring things out together.

Now all of that had been reduced to one breezy verdict: I was easy.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I bolted to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left.

The woman in the mirror was ashen, her lips drained of color.

My phone rang.

"The three-year agreement is up. It's time for you to step aside." Lauren Henson's voice on the other end was flat, indifferent.

"I've already sent Lillian to the Delgado estate. Find a way to make Malcolm marry her. This marriage was supposed to be hers in the first place."

"Don't overstay your welcome."

A strange clarity settled over me. My entire life had been something of a joke.

The love was a lie.

So was the family.

Lillian had been reclaimed by the Hensons three years ago, but they'd never made it public.

They even told me my birth parents had died in a car accident.

I had nothing left.

"As long as you give up your position," they continued, "we'll grant you one condition."

I closed my eyes. My throat burned, dry as paper.

"Fine. I want a green card."

I never wanted the title of Mrs. Delgado anyway.

Malcolm was standing in the doorway. I didn't know how long he'd been there. His gaze was heavy, fixed on me.

"You're going to the States?"

My body went rigid, but I smoothed it over quickly.

"A business partner's wife invited me to see an exhibition in the US."

Malcolm frowned. His tone dropped back to ice.

"I'll ask you one last time. Will you have my child?"

I knew that if I nodded, everything would go back to the way it was. As if none of this had happened.

In six days I would be gone for good.

Whether or not I agreed was mine to decide.

But the word "yes" lodged in my throat like a stone.

I couldn't force it out.

"Perfect," Malcolm's face darkened in an instant.

"You're going to regret this, Prudence."

The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the frame.

I stood before the mirror and realized tears were already sliding down my cheeks.

The truth was, I already had regrets.

Regretting ever loving Malcolm Delgado.

Regretting ever marrying him.

The next morning, Malcolm gathered every servant in the house and made his announcement.

"From today on, you will treat Lillian as the lady of this house."

"Meals, daily care, everything prepared to the highest standard for a woman trying to conceive."

The butler hesitated, then asked carefully, "And the living arrangements...?"

Malcolm glanced at me. His tone was thin, mocking.

"Move my wife's things out of the master bedroom and give it to Lillian. She's carrying something precious now. She deserves the best."

"Malcolm, that's our bedroom!"

My voice cracked for the first time.

Every piece of that room we had chosen together, arranged together.

Every sweet memory we ever made lived between those walls.

Last night he'd taken another woman in that bed, and the thought alone made my stomach turn.

Now he wanted me to hand over the entire room.

Lillian spoke up, her voice small. "It's okay, really. I can stay in the guest room... even if it's a little scary being alone."

Malcolm pulled her into his arms at once, his voice softening. "No need."

He looked at me, careless and cutting. "Since you won't have my child, Prudence, don't interfere with my decisions."

"Until the baby is born, Lillian is the lady of this house."

"And when the child arrives, it'll be registered under your name. Lillian will never get to hear her own baby call her 'Mom.'"

"To make up for that, you'll move into the guest room and take care of her. Through the pregnancy, the delivery, and recovery."

My eyes finally burned red.

He wanted me to play nursemaid to his mistress?

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, none of them daring to breathe.

Was the lady of the Delgado household really being replaced?

Malcolm looked at me and raised one brow. "Any objections?"