Five years into my tenure as Mrs. Brooks—Nolan’s perfectly sculpted, perfectly compliant wife—he found a college girl. He presented the divorce papers with the same impeccable, detached grace he used for closing a major deal. “After the settlement is final, there will be a substantial compensation package, Scarlett. Fifty million.” I choked on the tears that tasted like brine and fear. “Is there truly no going back, Nolan? If it’s the ingénue look you crave, I can… I can make myself look like her.” He frowned, a flicker of impatience—the barest tightening around his mouth—and I knew I’d annoyed the CEO, not moved the husband. Fear, cold and sudden, replaced the panic. I signed quickly. I couldn’t risk losing the payout, and besides, the clock was ticking. The secret I was carrying beneath my perfectly-fitted designer dress couldn't be hidden for much longer. The day I moved out, his fresh-faced new girl, Cassidy, wired me a hundred thousand dollars. The other nine million will be installment-paid. Nolan had no idea. He thought he was disposing of me. In reality, I had sold him to Cassidy for ten million dollars. Priorities. A baby, a secret baby, was going to need a hefty college fund. 1 Nolan Brooks had untouchable wealth, but he was also a man of strict principle. Back in his romantic prime, he had divorced his perfectly suitable first wife for me. But he’d compensated Tatum with a string of massive projects, settlements that paid out in ten-figure profits, so much so that their business relationship never actually ended. Now, five years into my reign as the trophy wife, he had found a college student. Even for a woman with my nonexistent background, he was willing to pay out a generous eight-figure severance. I held back, my eyes brimming, refusing to touch the divorce agreement. Nolan sighed. “Take it, Scarlett. We’re still young. It’s good for you to get out there and see the world.” The tears fell then, not a hysterical flood, but a quiet, hopeless stream. Young? If he wanted young, he’d found it. Cassidy was barely twenty, a full two decades his junior. I was twenty-eight. Past my prime for a man like him. “Is there no room for maneuver, Nolan?” I pleaded, desperately. “If you like her type, I can make myself look like that.” I clung to a ghost of hope, knowing full well that nothing could shake a decision he’d already made. His brow furrowed again, a clear sign of his impatience. “I’ll add two more properties. A pied-à-terre in Manhattan, another estate in Miami. Don't make this ugly, Scarlett.” I instantly shut my mouth, swallowing the sob. I was terrified that if I pushed any harder, he’d rescind the entire offer. I signed. Nolan and I had a prenuptial agreement that ensured I couldn't touch his primary assets. The amount he offered—the staggering sum I’d just signed for—was more than I could earn in ten lifetimes. Not to mention the allowance he'd given me over the years, the endless jewels, the designer bags. Once the papers were signed, Nolan left for a business trip, instructing me to move out quickly. I nodded meekly, watching him go, a perfect picture of the devastated, compliant wife. It wasn't until his sedan disappeared from the estate’s long, winding driveway that I wiped my face and instinctively rested my hand on my abdomen. It was time to go. If I didn't leave now, the baby would betray me. And that baby? It definitely wasn't Nolan's. 2 Nolan Brooks was sterile. The universe had gifted him with staggering business acumen and classical, almost Roman good looks, but it had terminated his lineage. Not even a low sperm count; he was azoospermic. As a man who understood human nature intimately, he had no intention of raising another man’s child. That was why he was so incredibly generous to his women—to his ex-wife Tatum, to me, and likely to the next trophy wife, too. “Ma’am, Mr. Brooks has been gone for some time now.” The housekeeper’s voice startled me back to the present. I nodded, returning to the colossal emptiness of the house to pack. It took me three full days. I did it myself. I’d always been meticulously organized, so I had a detailed inventory printed out. I tracked down every single item: 308 designer bags, 588 pieces of fine jewelry, and a literal twenty pounds of gold bullion. The dozens of custom haute couture gowns I’d worn to events were also safely accounted for. I packed everything on the list, and then gathered up the remaining items—the shoes, the smaller accessories, even a few of Nolan’s five-figure watches that I "accidentally" swept into my pile. On the day I finally left the estate, three full moving trucks were loaded to capacity. But Nolan had returned early. Standing beside him, naturally, was the clean, innocent-looking college student, Cassidy Jones. A classic, all-American girl-next-door look, the kind of fresh beauty that promises peace and prosperity. Honestly, I could hardly blame Nolan. Even I felt a twinge of something akin to admiration. “I’m so sorry, Nolan. I didn’t know you’d be back early. I’ll leave immediately.” I lowered my gaze, letting my eyes redden. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible glance to the side, and Cassidy, ever the quick study, retreated discreetly. Nolan walked over to me and gently brushed a tear from my cheek. “If you need anything, reach out to my assistant, Chen.” I nodded frantically, knowing I would never dare. Unlike Tatum Vance, his powerful ex-wife, my secret was too big. If Nolan ever found out about the pregnancy, he would tear me apart. 3 After a month of carefully managing my pregnancy, I met Nolan at the Registry Office. As the final divorce certificate was handed over, his gaze casually flickered down to my abdomen. I tensed, my heart hammering. I’d intentionally worn the loosest-fitting dress I owned. Surely, he hadn't noticed. “Where are you staying? Let me take you. Have you gained weight recently, Scarlett? You look… healthy. It suits you.” His voice was neutral, but even that small, three-tenths measure of concern was unbearable. I shook my head, smiling through a fresh mist of tears. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” Before he could say anything else, I rushed into the car parked nearby. It was a new car I’d bought myself—a modest sedan, maybe twenty thousand dollars. Low-key and dependable. A flash of concern—was it concern or pity?—crossed Nolan’s eyes, but he said nothing. When I was with him, I was a creature of absolute leisure, too lazy to even drive myself, preferring to recline in the passenger seat and breathe. Now, I was playing the role of the determined, self-reliant woman, ready to make my own way. The moment I arrived at my new place, Nolan wired me a check for ten million dollars. Hire a driver. My expense. We just got divorced, isn’t this inappropriate? I typed back. I kept the money. Watching the screen, I waited for him to reply. When he didn't, I put the phone down. That man. Always swapping out the old model for the new. I changed my clothes and had my new driver—yes, I had already hired one, I just gave him a two-hour break—take me to an upscale restaurant. I needed to recoup as much as I could from Nolan. A baby's expenses, after all, are astronomical. 4 As soon as I settled into the car, a transfer for a hundred thousand dollars arrived. It was followed by a text from Cassidy: The other nine hundred thousand will be installment-paid. I replied with a simple ‘OK’ emoji. I hesitated, then couldn’t resist offering a piece of advice. You should bring up your requests when he’s most relaxed during a massage. He usually agrees. Don't ask for too much at once, though. Start with a few thousand, then slowly escalate. She didn't reply. It was probably presumptuous of me. The car stopped. A valet led me to a private room where Nolan’s ex-wife, Tatum Reid, was waiting. Five years had passed, and she hadn't changed at all. If anything, she looked younger, more radiant. Money and spite, I decided, were truly a woman’s best beauty products. I sat down across from her. “Tatum, this is for you.” I pulled out the most expensive jewelry set I owned and slid the case across the table. Tatum glanced at it, then pushed it back. “Nolan bought that for you with a flourish. I don’t want your sentimental cast-offs.” I made a show of looking troubled. It was true, everything I owned had been given to me by him. And I certainly wasn’t going to shell out several million for a new set of jewelry. Tatum gave a short, dismissive laugh. “You have such small aspirations, Scarlett. Five years with him, and you didn’t pick up a single skill for making money?” She sounded exasperated, almost angry. I pouted. “You think I didn't try?” I threw myself into learning, honestly, but my brain was useless for it. Nolan told me which stocks to buy, and I’d still find a way to misread the ticker and lose the money. He'd funded three businesses for me in five years. The longest lasted three months. The shortest never opened its doors. Each venture cost him millions. I finally stopped letting him invest. I was afraid he'd see how incompetent I was and throw me out. Of course, in the end, I was abandoned anyway. But if you wanted to be technical about it, I was the one who abandoned him first. The moment I realized Nolan was genuinely interested in Cassidy, I knew this day was coming. I’d already made my preparations. 5 It had been a year ago. Nolan was giving a guest lecture at Cassidy’s university. He was charming, mysterious, and effortlessly cool, not to mention handsome with a flawless build. You could count the number of entrepreneurs his age with his looks and physique on one hand. The resulting chaos in the auditorium was exactly what you'd expect. Cassidy, a student council member, was the one bringing him tea and water that day. That was how she caught his eye. Nolan was a man of principle. He wouldn’t coerce her, and he certainly wouldn't chase her while still married to me. But a person or a prize that Nolan wanted never escaped him. Despite his demanding work schedule, he managed to charm Cassidy and solidify their connection in just three hour-long meetings. “But I did learn something, Tatum,” I interjected, a sudden flicker of defiant pride rising when I thought of Cassidy. Tatum raised a surprised eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. To prove myself, I prepared to lay out my entire plan. But I only got as far as mentioning Nolan’s sterility when Tatum’s expression changed completely. “Who told you Nolan was sterile?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “H-he’s not?” Tatum shook her head with certainty. “But then… you were married for ten years. Why didn’t you have a child?” Her face became complicated. 6 “Because I’m infertile.” “No, but… he was sterile.” Tatum gave me a look of profound disbelief. Could a man be that noble? “Then why did you leave him, Tatum?” I asked, confused. “If he was willing to take the blame for you, why did you still divorce him?” Tatum took a sip of wine, her expression calm. “There was no love between us.” But did love truly matter? When I first got with Nolan, I didn't love him either. My sole focus was on his assets, his looks, his power… Tatum laughed again. “Then why did you leave him?” My heart sank. I looked down, my voice quiet with feigned sorrow. “He was the one who fell for someone else.” Tatum studied me with a knowing, heavy gaze that made me want to shrink away. But she said nothing more, answered a phone call, and left. I assumed she was off to a business meeting. That night, however, I saw her on the celebrity gossip sites. A-LIST POP SENSATION SPOTTED WITH MYSTERIOUS, ELEGANT WOMAN. It was only a photo of her back, but I recognized Tatum instantly. She was wearing the same dress from dinner. Soon after, the heartthrob posted a clarification: We were together, she dumped me, and I’m chasing her again! Looking at his young, handsome face, full of vitality and the energy of youth, I had to admit he was a catch. I pulled up a photo of Nolan. He was refined and distinguished, yes, but youth was priceless. Tatum was living a great life. It explained why she had offered me a hundred thousand dollar annual salary to be her ‘yoga instructor,’ even though I couldn’t do a single pose. I did it for the money. And a year later, Nolan had noticed me. 7 A thought sparked in my mind, and I texted Tatum. Is the gossip true? You’re really throwing away that ‘It Boy’ darling? She took a while to reply. In the meantime, I was scrolling through the A-Lister’s videos. He'd burst onto the scene five years ago, right around the time Tatum and Nolan got divorced. It suggested that Tatum was the source of his funding and network. No wonder he was so reluctant to let her go. If I were him, I’d be reluctant, too. What? Do you have your eye on him? she wrote back. I clutched my chest, unable to contain the flutter of excitement. He’s actually not bad. Could you… sell him to me? I don’t have much cash, but I can offer you a hundred thousand dollars. You just need to set up the introduction. I’ll handle the rest. I looked down at myself. Nolan had kept me well-fed for five years. But since we separated, I found myself restless, thinking about him at night. I needed a distraction. I needed a replacement. Maybe a man who was sweeter, more attentive, would help me forget Nolan. Tatum was typing for a long time, then the phone rang. I snatched it up instantly. “Sister, please. You don’t want him, just sell him to me. A hundred grand is nothing to you, but I have a baby to raise, I can't go higher. Just do me this favor. I desperately need someone with better looks and a better body than Nolan, you see…” “What child are you raising, Scarlett?” Nolan's voice. Sudden, terrifying. I yelped and threw the phone across the room.
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