“Fletcher! Who is this woman?”

June looked as if she might shatter into pieces.

She rushed forward, crying bitterly. “Is this what you meant when you said you’d forget Ashley and build a life with me? If you’ve really forgotten her, why bring in a stand-in?”

Fletcher frowned, blocking her from grabbing Zoey.

“Don’t be ridiculous, June. She’s just my newly hired personal assistant. She has nothing to do with Ashley.”

But June wouldn’t believe a word of it.

“I just saw you holding her in your arms and you expect me to believe you’re innocent?” she snapped.

“Fletcher, you heartless man—have you forgotten? When you were stuck in that hospital bed with leukemia and no one else gave a damn, I was the one who stayed by your side!”

Her voice broke, bitter with accusation. “I knew it… You’ve never stopped thinking about Ashley, even after all these years.”

“That’s enough, June!” Fletcher’s brow furrowed deeper. “She was feeling unwell and I just helped her stand. That’s it. Nothing happened between us.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“Stop imagining things. we’ll still be held the wedding next month.”

Soon, the private doctor arrived to examine Zoey.

“It seems that she’s just having fatigue. A couple days of good rest should do.”

So Fletcher gave her an entire week off.

Since Zoey had no place to live and she was his assistant, she’d been staying in the housekeeper’s room on the first floor of the villa since she was hired.

Now, with a week of no work, she stayed there all day—driving June nearly mad with resentment.

One afternoon, when Fletcher wasn’t home, June seized her chance confronting Zoey.

“Zoey, right?” She glared coldly at her.

“I’ve looked into you. You’re just a cleaner. Fletcher only hired you as his assistant out of pity. If you think that means you can take my place, you’d better forget it.”

She deliberately pulled out a wedding photo of herself and Fletcher, waving it in front of Zoey with a cold smile.

“Think you have a chance because you look a bit like the woman in this picture? Well, let me tell you—my husband hates this woman’s guts. The only reason he keeps you around is because you resemble her, so he can take his sweet revenge. If you have any sense, you’ll get out while you still can.”

Zoey kept her head lowered, hiding her expression. Her voice came out low and muffled.

“Understood.”

June even had someone draft a resignation letter on the spot and ordered Zoey to give it to Fletcher.

When Zoey brought the letter to his study, she found Fletcher drunk again, slouched in the armchair, staring blankly.

His eyes were fixed on a pendant hanging on the wall.

One glance and Zoey recognized it—a cheap trinket from a street stall.

How could a billionaire like Fletcher treasure something so worthless?

Before she could ask, he spoke first.

“This was a gift from Ashley. Back then, I was dirt poor. She’d been with me since she was eighteen. She told me as long as this little ‘good luck’ pendant stayed with me, I’d become a rich man someday.”

A faint, bitter smile crossed his face.

“Shame the day came, but she’s not here to see it.”

“Tell me, Zoey—just how cruel do you think a woman has to be, to believe I wouldn’t live long and still have the heart to get rid of the baby… and leave me?”

Zoey kept her head down for a long moment before replying softly,

“Have you ever considered that maybe… she died, sir?”

“Impossible!”

Fletcher’s voice sharpened. “Don’t you dare curse her! That cold-blooded woman, she’s been hiding from me for five years, probably living lavishly God-knows-where. How could she possibly be dead?”“Then pretend I said that.” Zoey gave a faint smile. Then she held out the paper in her hand. “Here’s my resignation letter, sir. Miss June asked me to give it to you. She doesn’t want me around.”

That night, the power went out in the villa.

Outside, a heavy storm raged, thunder and lightning cracking the sky.

Zoey opened her wardrobe and pulled out the pajamas she used to wear. Then she went straight to June, putting on an act as if she were a ghost.

That scared the life out of June. A second later came her bloodcurdling scream.

“No! Stay away from me! I didn’t kill you, Ashley—you died because of your own cursed fate!” She was so terrified she looked half out of her mind, stumbling like she was running for her life—only to slam into someone’s chest.

Another ear-splitting scream tore out of her.

“June, it’s me!”

The next second, the lights snapped back on. Fletcher stood there, face cold.

“Cut the act, Zoey!” he snapped. “From the start, I knew you came into this house with your own hidden agenda. Now—care to tell me what you’ve really been plotting?”

At his words, Zoey let out a cold laugh and peeled off the ghost mask.

“Didn’t think you’d catch on this early,” she said casually. “You really want to know why I went through all this trouble to get into your house, Fletcher?”

She was nothing like the quiet housemaid from before. Now she stood there, eyes icy, pointing straight at June.

“I came here for one reason—to expose this woman’s true, vicious nature.”

A flicker of guilt flashed across June’s pale, disheveled face.

“Don’t listen to her, Fletcher. She wants to drive a wedge between us. Get her out now!” She clutched Fletcher’s arm tightly, panicked.

But the man who usually spoiled her didn’t move a muscle.

“Calm down. Let’s just hear what she has to say.” He patted her back gently, then turned to Zoey.

“Speak,” he commanded.

Zoey’s lips curled into a sneer, her gaze chilling as it locked on the woman in his arms.

“June, why don’t you tell Fletcher where Ashley is—whether she’s alive or dead? And while you’re at it… who was the one who donated bone marrow to him back then?”