Chapter 5

By the time I got back to my apartment, it was late.

The place was empty, just like always.

I'd paid for this penthouse in full. Ethan came by maybe once a month. He said the lab was too far away, that he kept a studio apartment near the office.

I walked to the bar cart and poured a glass of whiskey. Drank it in one go.

The burn traveled all the way down, but it didn't touch the cold at the center of my chest.

I picked up my phone and called my personal attorney, James.

"James, I need you to pull everything you can on a woman named Vivian Cole. And I need a full financial audit -- every dollar I've transferred to 'Shaw Medical Technologies' over the past seven years. Every transaction. I want it itemized down to the cent."

There was a brief pause on the other end. Then James's voice sharpened with quiet understanding.

"Ms. Johnson -- are we closing the net?"

"No," I said, looking out at the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My voice was flat as ice. "We're going for the kill."

After I hung up, I opened my laptop and logged into a secondary account.

I started searching Vivian Cole's name across every social media platform I could think of.

A woman like her -- one who lived to show off -- couldn't possibly have left no trace online.

I was right. It took almost no effort at all.

Her verified account bio read: Lifestyle & Luxury Blogger | Wife of Shaw Medical Technologies CEO.

Over a million followers.

I scrolled through her feed. Page after page of obscene wealth dressed up as aesthetic living.

Ethan's five-year anniversary gift finally arrived after six months of waiting. Worth every second.

The photo was the pink diamond I'd seen on her finger tonight.

Posted three weeks ago.

Three weeks ago, Ethan had told me there had been an incident in the clinical trials. He said they needed three hundred thousand dollars in hush money, or the company was finished.

I'd stayed up all night running a flash sale livestream. By the end, my voice was completely gone. I spent three days on an IV drip at the hospital.

Noah's 5th birthday! Ethan chartered a whole yacht just for our little man. Best childhood memories incoming.

The photo showed Ethan holding the boy on the deck of a luxury yacht, grinning like the happiest man alive.

Posted two months ago.

Two months ago was the anniversary of my miscarriage.

I spent that entire day sitting alone at a memorial park. Ethan sent a message saying he was locked in the lab and couldn't get away.

Another day of being absolutely spoiled. Just picked up our new ocean-view villa -- going to use it as my art studio.

The photo showed a standalone house in the most expensive coastal neighborhood in the city, valued at no less than five million dollars.

Posted one year ago.

One year ago, Ethan knelt in front of me, crying, saying the company's cash flow had collapsed and he wanted to jump off a building.

I sold off majority stakes in my two most profitable beauty brands at a steep loss. I liquidated five million dollars in assets to bail him out.

I went through the photos one by one. Every glittering image, every breezy caption.

Behind each one was a night I'd stayed up past dawn. Blood I'd coughed into a sink. Pain I'd swallowed and kept moving through.

I thought I was funding a dream that would matter.

I was feeding two parasites.

I screenshotted everything, packaged it all up, and sent it to James.

Then I went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror.

The woman looking back at me was pale from chronic sleep deprivation. Dark circles carved into the skin under her eyes.

I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face.

Lily Johnson. You really are something else.

But it's fine.

Starting right now, I'm taking back everything that's mine. Every single cent, with interest.