Chapter 1
“It seems like everyone has decided to show up today,” Blackwood announced, his voice slicing through the air like a well-honed knife, cool, calm, and echoing through the room as if he were proclaiming a grand decree.
The boardroom was packed to the brim.
Executives. Shareholders. Legal advisors. Directors. All familiar faces, faces I had worked alongside, toasted with, and celebrated victories with. Now they sat, neatly arranged like a row of well-tended plants, their eyes gleaming with curiosity, judgment, and, if I dared say, an unsettling thrill of anticipation that felt far worse than hatred.
“We are gathered here today,” continued Blackwood with all the warmth of a winter morning, “to witness the internal review of Elena Blackwood, former Executive Director and legal wife of the Blackwood Corporation.”
Former.
The word landed like a stone in my stomach, heavier than I anticipated.
His gaze swept across the room, moving with a slow deliberation that commanded silence, no shouting was required, as it finally settled on me.
And oh, how I felt it, the familiar weight in my chest and the instinctive straightening of my back. Even here, standing alone in the center of the room, bereft of my title,
my position, and any semblance of dignity, my body still responded to him.
To my husband.
To the man who had laid waste to my world.
“Elena,” he said, his voice steady and almost courteous, “do you swear under corporate oath to tell only the truth during this tribunal?”
Every eye shifted in my direction.
My palms felt clammy. My throat was on fire. My heart thudded against my ribs as if trying to escape. I half-wondered if everyone could hear it racing in the tense silence.
But I lifted my chin, resolute.
I would not bow.
“I do,” I said, my voice ringing out stronger than I felt inside.
“And how do you plead?”
For just a heartbeat, the room seemed to spin.
Not guilty.
The words clattered in my mouth, too tiny, too fragile to carry the weight of what loomed over me. I recalled all I had sacrificed, everything I had silently endured to protect this man, this great enterprise, this name.
I let out a slow breath.
“Not guilty.”
A ripple of movement stirred through the room, whispers, shuffling feet, sidelong glances.
But Blackwood remained impassive.
As ever.
Three Weeks Earlier
“She’s pregnant.”
He spoke so casually, as if he were sharing news about a delayed train or a minor hiccup in the day’s agenda.
We found ourselves in his office, a grand room with windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, offering a splendid view of the city that we had both shaped and nurtured together. My name was etched into the very fabric of those steel and glass structures.
I stared at him, my world tilting on its axis like a wobbly top. My ears buzzed as if a swarm of bees had taken up residence in them.
“What?” I managed to whisper, my voice barely a tremor.
He, however, was unfazed. He didn’t say it again, didn’t choose easier words, didn’t even flinch.
“Vanessa is pregnant.”
My legs felt like jelly, but I willed myself to remain upright. I clung to the edge of his desk, our desk, my fingers digging in until they protested.
My husband. My partner in all things legal.
The man I had adored since I was a mere girl, not quite grasping the tangled web of emotions called love.
And here he was, having got another woman in trouble.
The pain? It wasn't sharp; it was like a thick fog settling heavy in my chest, an unwelcome guest refusing to leave.
“I”, My voice broke, stumbling over the words. “Why?”
His eyes flashed with irritation as they met mine.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said, his voice as cold as a winter’s morning. “You’ve failed, Elena. As my wife. As a Blackwood.”
Failed.
That word resonated in the vault of my mind like a persistent echo.
“You couldn’t even manage your primary duty,” he continued with a cruel clarity. “Don’t look surprised. This company craves an heir, a future. Something you evidently cannot grant.”
Each word landed with surgical precision.
Calculated and intentional.
I had tried.
Oh, how I had tried!
For years, I had rearranged my life to fit his, his routines, his moods, his endless needs. I waited in cavernous penthouses, attended glamorous events alone, smiled through the unkind whispers and nights he treated like they were no different from the last.
And there I was, still in love with him.
Not because I had to, but because, in some way, I believed that with enough patience, he would one day notice me.
But deep down, I had always known about her.
Vanessa.
The pretty mistake that everyone thought would fade when I donned the name Mrs. Blackwood.
But she didn’t go anywhere.
When I returned to the penthouse that evening, fatigue enveloped me like an unwanted shawl.
I thought about calling security, perhaps reporting odd happenings, asking a few pointed questions.
Yet, I didn’t.
The news was already swirling about like autumn leaves. I could feel it, a palpable tension in the air, the hush, the glances, the pity.
Ah, pity! The most dangerous creature, it compelled others to look closer.
I couldn’t afford to seem unsteady, not now when everything I was, all that I identified with, dangled precariously above a deep ravine.
As I stepped inside, her scent enveloped me.
Sweet, floral, far too familiar.
I froze in place.
This was not the story of how I won his heart.
This wasn’t a story about redemption or forgiveness or the reward of a patient strength.
No.
It was the tale of how Elena Blackwood snapped.
How she was humiliated publicly and privately.
How bitter was her realization at last that love was never enough in a world of power.
And when the opportunity arose to undo it all …
The real question was not whether I would take it.
It was whether I could survive.
