Chapter 1

The Christmas Eve before, Julian wasn't busy stuffing gifts into our kids' stockings.

No, he was too preoccupied, lavishing cash on a dancer's sheer stockings.

He'd turned to me, offering a hollow comfort:

"Serena was making her stage debut, and it was all just a publicity stunt, she needed the buzz. I was just playing along."

Everyone laughed at me, but I didn't make a scene.

I didn't scream, I didn't shout.

They had no idea.

I had made a pact with Death himself.

For every time Julian cheated, a year of his life would transfer to me.

By my count, Julian, who was supposed to live to eighty, had barely a year left.

Just get through New Year's Eve, and he'd breathe his last.

And I? I'd take our three children and inherit the Sterling family's multi-billion dollar fortune.

Soon enough, news of billionaire Julian Sterling stuffing two hundred thousand dollars into a dancer named Serena's stockings exploded on social media.

I put down my phone, my heart oddly calm, and took a sip of the black tea on the table.

The doorbell chimed. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling stormed in, their faces alight with fury.

Mr. Sterling's face was beet red with fury, and he let out a heavy sigh.

"Eleanor, Julian is an absolute bastard! I'll send a yacht your way, go clear your head if you feel uncomfortable."

Mrs. Sterling gently patted my shoulder.

"Eleanor, don't you worry. I won't let those… bitches… darken our doorstep!"

I replied calmly:

"Thank you, Mom and Dad. I understand."

Why would I make a fuss?

After all, this was already Julian's forty-third mistress.

Seven more days. Then, everything would be over.

The next day, the Director of Public Relations for Sterling Corp personally visited.

"Mrs. Sterling, this is the draft statement. We need you to go out and clear Mr. Sterling's name regarding the scandal."

"No problem!" I agreed readily.

I looked at Serena's photo. She was indeed different from the previous kept women.

She was a ballet dancer, bore a striking resemblance to Julian's deceased first love, and had a very pure look about her.

After I issued the statement, my friends found it unbelievable.

"You're truly so forgiving. If my husband ever pulled a stunt like that, I'd break his legs!"

The thinly veiled jabs? I was sick of them.

I closed the group chat and went into my study.

At the bottom of the drawer, hidden beneath some papers, was a small, leather-bound notebook.

Julian's first infidelity was ten years ago.

"Chloe, 23, unknown actress. Dated three months, Julian bought her an apartment."

"Vivian, 25, influencer. Dated four months, Julian helped her open a clothing boutique."

"Serena, 24, ballet dancer."

What she would ultimately gain, I didn't yet know.

But I had a creeping suspicion that her intentions were far from simple.

I closed the ledger. Outside, fine snow began to fall.

The Christmas tree in the garden sparkled with colorful lights. My three children were building a snowman, their laughter drifting through the glass.

Forty-three times. That meant forty-three years of his life gone.

Julian was supposed to live to eighty.

Now, he had only seven days left.

The thought brought a profound sense of liberation.

My phone buzzed. It was Julian.

"Not coming home for dinner tonight."

I didn't reply.

He didn't press the issue.

It was our unspoken understanding, built over years.

"Eleanor, you're so understanding. I'm just having a bit of fun, blowing off steam. Don't worry, you're the only Mrs. Sterling."

I let out a cold laugh and called the children inside for dinner.

Christmas bells chimed faintly in the distance.

Seven more days.

On New Year's Eve, seven days from now, fireworks would bloom across the entire sky.

And my ledger, finally, would turn to its very last page.