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Inside lay a completely different ring. It was an old, vintage design. A platinum band. The border was made of tiny diamond fragments surrounding a small, beautiful, teardrop-shaped blue sapphire. Elegant and delicate. You could tell it was a ring from many years ago.

It was definitely not the generic, flashy diamond he used to propose to me.

At the bottom of the box was a small, folded note, with Harrison’s familiar handwriting.

Happy 18th birthday, Madeline. May my girl shine like a star in the sky.

The date was eight years ago.

He had kept the 18th birthday gift for his true love hidden in this locked drawer, right next to his most important files. So that every single time he opened this drawer to handle his corporate work, he could lower his head and look at that ring. He looked at the true love that he forever stopped at 18.

And my custom-made wedding ring? The one worth a fortune? Perhaps he conveniently threw it into a cold, dark safe mixed in with his emotionless business contracts.

The violent nausea in my stomach rose again. I rushed into the attached bathroom, hugged the toilet bowl tightly, and vomited uncontrollably. I cried until my face was smeared with tears, until only the bitter taste of bile remained in my throat.

I leaned heavily on the icy marble sink and slowly stood up. I looked in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me looked exactly like a broken doll thrown into a dark corner. Her face was pale, her expensive makeup was ruined, and her custom-made wedding dress was stained with the red rose sap I had trampled on.

Was this Vivienne? Was this the proud, brilliant woman who thought she illuminated a billionaire’s life?

How pathetic. How ironic.

I turned on the tap. The freezing cold water splashed down on my face. The icy chill made me shiver, but it also completely cleared my confused, broken mind.

A substitute, I thought. A cheap copy.

Walking away from the altar wasn’t enough. I was going to burn this entire fantasy to the ground, along with all the disgusting lies and corporate calculations placed upon it.

Chapter 3: The Counterattack

I turned my phone back on.

A massive flood of missed calls and text messages poured in. They were from Harrison, my mother, my father, Chloe, and dozens of unknown reporters.

Harrison’s messages were initially furious. Vivienne! You had better explain your insane behavior to me immediately! Do you know what you are doing?! Come back to the church now! Otherwise, you will face the consequences! By the last few messages, his tone softened, returning to his familiar, sweet, and seductive manipulation. Vivienne, darling, I know you are angry. Come back. Let’s talk privately. I will explain everything. That message was from someone deliberately trying to ruin our wedding. You have been tricked. Listen to me. Do not make a fuss anymore. I am waiting for you at our house.

I am waiting for you at home. I stared at that line and finally let out a dark, cold laugh. This house? This twenty-million-dollar house filled with the suffocating shadow of another woman? Is this a home? Or is it a gilded cage to keep his pet substitute?

I ignored all of his messages and opened Chloe’s texts.

Vivienne! You scared me to death! Where are you?! Are you safe? Give me your address quickly, I will come find you! Harrison is going crazy, his face is all swollen from your slap, but he said he doesn’t blame you! Vivienne, did someone say something to you? Don’t believe it! Everyone can see how much he loves you! That message is definitely fake! Answer the phone!

Every single word was dripping with fake affection, as if she was worried sick about me. She was truly a wonderful best friend.

I typed back without changing my expression. Chloe. I am at the new mansion. Come alone.

Then, I dialed my father’s private number.

The phone was answered almost immediately. My father, a notoriously ruthless and powerful corporate judge, immediately roared through the receiver.

“Vivienne! What the hell are you up to?! Hundreds of elite people are watching! You have completely ruined the Sterling family’s reputation today! You have thrown my face to the ground too!”

“Dad,” I interrupted smoothly. My voice was unusually calm, like ice.

The roaring stopped abruptly on the other end. My father paused.

“The new mansion. The twenty-million-dollar property. Are you keeping the physical title deed in your safe?” I asked.

“Yes, I am. So what? That is a prenuptial gift from Harrison. I am keeping it safe for you so it won’t get lost,” my father grumbled.

“Good.” I took a deep, steadying breath. “Dad, I need you to do two things for me right now. First, immediately call Lawyer Davis. Bring the original title deed to the real estate bureau. I want this mansion sold immediately. Offer it at the absolute lowest market price to ensure it sells today in cash. Second, freeze every single bank account in my name that is connected to Harrison’s money. The luxury cars, the black credit cards—freeze everything.”

My father was utterly stunned. “My daughter… are you serious? This isn’t just a fit of bridal anger, is it? That house is in a prime location. Harrison spent a fortune on it.”

“Dad!” I emphasized, my voice sharp as a blade. “No matter how much money he spent, it will never be enough to buy back three years of my dignity. I was treated like a joke. Do exactly as I say.”

On the other end of the phone, there was a heavy silence. Then, I heard my father take a deep breath. His voice deepened, carrying that familiar, terrifying firmness. The kind of ruthless protectiveness I knew all too well.

“Okay. I understand,” my father said slowly. “Who dares to bully my daughter? Whether it is the heavens or the Sterling family, I will not let them go unpunished. Do not worry, Vivienne. I am going to work right now. I will liquidate this house for you.”

My nose stung, but I held back my tears. “Thank you, Dad.”

After talking to my father, I called my mother. On the other end of the line, my mother spoke with a voice choked with worried tears.

“Vivienne, my darling! What is wrong? Did Harrison hurt you? Tell me, I will stand up for you, do not be afraid!”

“Mom, I am fine. Listen to me very carefully,” I lowered my voice. “Go to my childhood bedroom. Get the locked wooden box in my closet. The key is in my desk drawer. That box contains the physical copy of the prenuptial agreement Harrison signed. Inside, it clearly states that if the marriage breaks down due to his emotional manipulation, deception, or infidelity, he voluntarily relinquishes his share of all jointly owned property, and must pay a massive financial penalty for emotional distress.”

When signing that document months ago, Harrison had looked at me with a handsome, helpless smile. He had hugged me and whispered, “Silly girl, what good is signing this? I will never, ever give you the chance to use it.”

I had believed him. Looking back now, perhaps that was the only true thing he ever said. He never intended to get caught.

That prenuptial agreement was my nuclear weapon.

“Mom, find the box. Take high-definition pictures of the penalty clauses inside. Send them to me immediately,” I instructed. “If anyone from the Sterling family calls you, do not answer. Especially Chloe. Not a single word.”

My mother was still sobbing, but she calmed down. “Yes, yes, I know. I will go right away. Please take care of yourself, Vivienne. I am so worried.”

“Mom, I am fine,” I promised. “I have never felt this powerful before.”

I looked in the mirror. It reflected a woman with cold, resolute, dangerous eyes. The drama had only just begun.

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