Chapter 1

For ten years, I was Adrian's ghostwriter, crafting his path to literary stardom.

When our daughter needed fifty thousand dollars for emergency heart surgery, he'd just won a million-dollar prize—but wouldn't spare a dime.

He snapped at me over the phone: "Rachel's son has a cold and I can't leave! All you ever do is ask for money!"

I hung up, sold our house, and got my daughter the surgery.

Three months later, Adrian threw a celebration party at a hotel.

Glass in hand, basking in glory, he spotted me in the crowd.

I wore a server's uniform, carrying a tray, bowing with a smile.

My daughter, cradled in my arms, lifted her pale little face and asked politely, "Sir, could I have some orange juice?"

Hearing our daughter call him "sir" instead of "daddy," his smile froze instantly.

"Fiona, what the hell are you doing here?" He lowered his voice, each word forced through gritted teeth, humiliated at being confronted publicly.

I ignored him, adjusted my server badge marked "07," then knelt down to look tenderly at my daughter.

"Lily, would you like some orange juice? Mommy will get you some."

"Okay." Lily nodded obediently, her small hand clutching my sleeve.

She'd just recovered from heart surgery. Her body was still weak, her little face so pale it was almost translucent—heartbreaking to see.

I stood up with her in my arms, ready to leave.

Adrian grabbed my wrist, his grip nearly crushing my bones.

"Stop! I'm talking to you!"

The woman beside him—renowned editor Rachel—immediately stepped forward, elegantly tugging his sleeve.

"Adrian, calm down." Her voice was soft and soothing. Then she turned to me, her eyes displaying perfectly calibrated pity. "Fiona, I know you might be going through difficulties, but do you understand what occasion this is? Making a scene like this helps no one."

With one sentence, she painted me as a hysterical woman desperate for money.

The guests around us—literary elites and media reporters—turned their gazes toward us like spectators at a show.

Adrian's face darkened like a thundercloud.

He felt I'd humiliated him beyond measure.

I looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Mr. Walker, do we even know each other?"

He froze.

I pulled my aching wrist from his grip and pointed to Lily in my arms, my voice not loud but carrying clearly to every corner.

"My daughter wanted some orange juice, but she doesn't know you, so she called you 'sir.' What, Mr. Walker doesn't understand basic courtesy and has to yell at a child?"

Lily seemed frightened by the tense atmosphere. She shrank into my arms and whispered, "Mommy, I don't want it anymore. Let's go home."

My heart clenched painfully.

I kissed her forehead. "Don't be afraid, Lily. Mommy's here."

Adrian's gaze finally fell on Lily.

He looked at her pale little face, at the faint outline of surgical scars visible beneath her clothing, and his body visibly stiffened.

"Her... her condition..."

"The surgery was successful." I smiled, but my words cut like knives. "After all, I sold our only house and finally scraped together the fifty thousand for the surgery."

"You sold the house?!" Adrian's voice shot up, his eyes full of disbelief.

That house had been bought outright by my parents as our wedding home.

Rachel's expression changed. She quickly grabbed Adrian's arm, her voice carrying a hint of warning. "Adrian, calm down! Don't forget what today is!"

Adrian seemed to wake from a dream. He looked around and realized everyone was watching him with probing eyes.

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his emotions, and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a card and held it out to me.

"There's a hundred thousand in here. Password's your birthday. Take it and stop making a scene, okay?"

His tone was like he was dismissing a beggar.

I laughed.

Laughed until tears nearly came.

I didn't take the card. Instead, my gaze dropped to Rachel's wrist.

There, a gleaming Patek Philippe ladies' watch sparkled.

"Miss Carter, that's a beautiful watch," I said softly.

Rachel instinctively pulled back her hand, then displayed it openly with a smile. "Fiona has good taste. Adrian gave it to me as a gift."

"A gift?" I nodded, my smile deepening. "The Golden Pen Literary Award prize was one million dollars. After taxes, exactly eight hundred thousand. Miss Carter's watch, if I'm not mistaken, is a limited edition that retails for exactly eight hundred thousand. Mr. Walker is so generous—using his daughter's life-saving money to buy his mistress a watch."

Boom.

The entire ballroom felt like a bomb had been dropped.

Dead silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

Every eye shifted from me to that eight-hundred-thousand-dollar watch on Rachel's wrist.

Rachel's face drained of all color instantly.

"You... you're lying! I bought this watch myself!" she shrieked, her voice distorted by guilt.

Adrian was completely dumbfounded. He stared at Rachel's wrist, then at me, his eyes filled with confusion and shock.

"Rachel, what the hell is going on?"

"Adrian, don't listen to her nonsense! She's just jealous and trying to sabotage us!" Rachel was so agitated that tears streamed down her face. She grabbed his arm, shaking desperately. "That prize money—I... I was saving it for you! I didn't touch it!"

"Is that so?" I laughed coldly, picking up a glass of red wine from a server's tray and walking toward her.

"Miss Carter, why so agitated? If you really bought it yourself, you shouldn't mind me helping you verify its authenticity, right?"

Without waiting for her response, I raised my hand and poured the entire glass of red wine over that eight-hundred-thousand-dollar watch.

"Ahh—!"

Rachel let out a piercing scream.

The surrounding guests gasped in shock.

"Fiona, you're insane!" Adrian roared, rushing forward and shoving me aside.

I lost my balance. Holding Lily, I staggered backward several steps and slammed into the table behind me, sharp pain shooting through my lower back.

Lily burst into tears, terrified.

I ignored my own pain, holding my daughter tight and soothing her gently.

Meanwhile, Rachel was nearly hysterical with distress. She grabbed napkins, frantically wiping the watch, shouting incoherently, "My watch! My watch! This cost eight hundred thousand!"

Only after she'd said it did she realize her words. She clapped her hand over her mouth, staring at Adrian in horror.

Too late.

Everyone had heard.

Adrian's face went from iron-gray to deathly pale to ashen.

He stood frozen like a weathered statue, looking at Rachel, then at me.

That look in his eyes—as if he were staring at his mortal enemy.

I held Lily, who'd stopped crying but was still sobbing quietly, and walked past him without a second glance.

At the door, I removed the server's uniform and handed it to the manager who'd rushed over.

"Sorry, I quit. Also, please tell Mr. Walker something for me."

I paused, turned back, meeting those bloodshot eyes of his, and said clearly, word by word:

"Adrian, let's get divorced."