Chapter 3

Back then, Nathan had complained endlessly.

Eva couldn't even format a spreadsheet. She jammed the printers constantly. She scalded clients with coffee. He would rub his temples and groan, "Lily, you really saddled me with a burden. She's so clumsy—only you would treat her like a treasure."

I had persuaded him to be patient.

I thought I was doing a good deed. Helping a girl change her fate.

I never imagined that after I handed her the ladder to climb out of the mud, she would kick it away and spit on me from the top.

Nathan checked his watch, then looked me over with clinical detachment.

"With the way you look right now... attending the banquet would be embarrassing for you and affect the company's image. Why don't you go home, wash your face, and calm down?"

*Company image.*

The words echoed in my skull. Absurd. My face was ruined by *his* secretary, enabled by *his* indulgence, and now *I* was the disgrace?

Nathan clearly had no interest in my feelings. He adjusted his cuffs, sliding back into his elite, polished persona.

"Be good. Don't make a scene. I'll bring you those late-night snacks you like when I come home."

Eva stuck to his side like glue. As she passed me, her head turned slightly.

In those almond eyes that usually feigned innocence, there was nothing but vicious provocation. She mouthed two words, silent and slow:

*"Subsidized disposal."*

The door clicked shut.

I watched Nathan's back as he led her away without a single glance behind him.

The last thread of nostalgia I held for our marriage snapped clean.

"Nathan Butler."

My voice fell into the empty room.

"If this is how you want to handle it, I don't accept it."

Since he couldn't manage his secretary, I wouldn't mind using my own methods to teach her a lesson.

---

The address my private detective sent was familiar.

Painfully so.

An inconspicuous six-story apartment building in the old southern district. I owned properties across the globe, but this tiny unit was the sanctuary of my heart.

In college, after catching my father with his illegitimate child, I cut ties with my family and refused their money. It was Nathan who picked me up from the dorms and brought me to this rental.

He had clumsily learned to cook porridge for me. He had spent his meager scholarship money to buy me expensive strawberries. He had held me there, promising, *"Lily, this is your home now. A harbor I built for you. No one will ever make you suffer again."*

When I eventually took control of my family's empire, the first thing I did was buy the building. I didn't renovate. I kept it exactly as it was—a memorial to our love.

But now, Nathan had taken the "harbor" he promised me and given it to another woman without a word.

When I arrived with my bodyguards, the door was unlocked.

I pushed it open.

A wave of cloying, sweet aromatherapy scent hit me like a wall.

Everything had changed.

The gray linen sofa I had chosen—gone. Replaced by tacky pink lace. The sketch Nathan had drawn for me on the wall—covered by a massive vanity-style portrait of Eva Harding pouting and making a peace sign.

Not a single trace of me remained.

Eva stood in the living room wearing a silk slip dress and a facial mask, mid-pace. When she saw me, she froze.

Then, slowly, unhurriedly, she peeled the mask off her face.

And tossed it into the trash.