The Husband Who Stole My Designs

Chapter 2 More Arrogant

Back in her room, Noelle's hands were still shaking as she texted a number she'd never once contacted: You said you'd grant me one wish, no questions asked. I want a foolproof fake death plan. Two weeks from now, come get me.

The reply came fast: Done. A team will reach out.

With Oscar's obsessive streak, divorce would never stick. The only way to truly break free was to "die."

Noelle had the housekeeper, Zara Cook, bring her a fire basin. The flames flickered across her pale face as she picked up each stack of design drafts—every page soaked in her sweat and tears, like children she'd birthed with her own hands.

Heart shattered, she fed them to the fire.

All those sleepless nights, those lightning bolts of inspiration, that pure, burning love for her craft was gone, reduced to ash.

Tears slid silently down her face, but she felt nothing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't protect you, letting those two bastards dirty your names..."

Just then, the door slammed open. Oscar's smile froze on his face. "Noelle? You're awake?"

His eyes darted to the smoldering ashes, and his voice wavered. "You... You didn't come downstairs earlier, did you?"

Noelle lifted her hollow gaze to his. "No. Just woke up. Those drafts were never going to win anything anyway. They just pissed me off looking at them. Better off burned."

Something flickered across Oscar's face—almost like guilt. "Don't be upset, Noelle. I'm sure you'll win someday."

She forced a smile that hurt more than crying. "You really think so?"

Something about how broken she looked must have stabbed at whatever conscience he had left, because he pulled her into a sudden embrace.

He said, "Of course I do. And even if you never win a single award, I'll never love you any less."

Noelle pulled away, coldness filling her chest.

The old her would have sobbed in his arms right about now.

Never win a single award? How could Oscar steal everything she had worked for and then stand there saying that?

Noelle murmured, "Oscar, do you even have a..."

"Emergency at the office. I'll come back tomorrow. Get some rest. And remember—don't go downstairs." Before he could finish, he was gone.

The rest of her question hung in the air, unanswered.

Noelle caught the faint sound of a woman coughing. Her heart twisted.

When she got sick, he used to stay by her bed all night. Now Seren cleared her throat, and he went running.

Noelle wiped her face hard.

Oscar wasn't worth another single tear.

Noelle barely slept. Seren's laugh kept echoing through the walls.

Next morning at breakfast, Seren burst out of the guest room and hurled a plate to the floor. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere.

She was even more arrogant than five years ago. "Aren't you Oscar's precious wife? Come take him back! He won't let me out of bed. It's exhausting."

She was practically limping, making sure everyone knew exactly how "intense" the night had been.

Noelle's heart clenched so hard she could barely breathe.

Seren continued, "I keep telling him to leave me alone, but he begs me to be his woman. Bags, trophies—he keeps shoving things at me. Noelle, can't you control your husband? I don't even want them."

Noelle bit her lip until it bled. "As the mistress of this house, I'm ordering you to get out."

Seren just laughed coldly, pulling the gold trophy from her bag nice and slow. "He said your orphan background embarrasses him. Said you don't deserve a trophy this prestigious. Only someone like me does. But honestly? I don't even like it. What should I do, Noelle?"

She raised the trophy high and smashed it against the floor.

The sound exploded through the room. Cracks spiderwebbed from base to rim.

"No!" Noelle crumpled to her knees, left hand reaching for the shattered pieces. Servants crowded the doorway, whispering and staring.

Shame flooded her chest. She forced words through clenched teeth. "Keep your trash out of my house. You're not welcome here. Zara, throw her out."

"Throw me out?" Seren stepped closer, heel grinding down on Noelle's left hand. "Why don't you ask Oscar if he wants me gone?"

Noelle screamed.

Something cracked. Pain shot up her arm.

"Mrs. Pearson!" Zara's voice went shrill. She dropped down, scrambling to shove Seren's foot away.

Footsteps pounded down the hall.

"What's going on here?" Oscar asked.