Arthur was known in our circle as the perfect husband, obsessively devoted to his wife. He personally created an "Evelyn Manual" for me, detailing every single one of my preferences and allergies with obsessive precision. No contact with strawberries, zero exposure to pollen, and the warm water I drank every morning had to be exactly 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Even more insane, he required every employee at his company to memorize it. I used to deeply believe that I was living a life of fairy-tale happiness that others could only dream of. Until the night of our fourth wedding anniversary. He spent the entire evening busy in the kitchen, finally bringing out my favorite blueberry mousse. I took the first bite, and an agonizing, prickling itch instantly clawed at my throat. Five minutes later, hives had spread all over my body. As the ambulance wailed outside, Arthur held my hand, his face deathly pale. "Impossible. I made it myself. I checked the recipe three times..." But through the dizzying haze of suffocation, I could distinctly taste it—hidden beneath the blueberry aroma was the unmistakable flavor of strawberry. He didn't care about my fatal allergy anymore. ... When the light above the emergency room doors finally clicked off, I still had a breathing tube down my throat. Before the anesthesia fully wore off, my hearing returned. Through the crack in the door, the nurses' hushed conversation hit my eardrums, word by word: "Mrs. Vance is so lucky. Ten minutes later and she'd be gone." "No kidding. Mr. Vance was so frantic his eyes were totally bloodshot... But hey, do you remember that Miss Chloe from the VIP maternity ward last month?" "Oh yeah, the one Mr. Vance accompanied, right? We were just saying how incredibly attentive he was to his 'sister.' He didn't miss a single prenatal appointment. He was even more meticulous with her than with his own wife." "Sister, my ass," a voice whispered, dropping an octave. "My cousin works at the County Clerk's office. She said that massive estate in the hills on the West Side was transferred to Chloe's name three months ago." Footsteps approached. I closed my eyes. Arthur sat on the edge of my bed. He grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. "Evie... I'm so sorry..." I'm so sorry. Those three words acted like a key, violently unlocking the floodgates of my memories. I had gone into anaphylactic shock from strawberries three times before. The worst time, they had to perform an emergency tracheotomy. Arthur had knelt outside the ICU that day, swearing on his life that he would never let a single strawberry product within a hundred-yard radius of me again. He even put it in bold print on the first page of his corporate employee handbook: Strawberry products are strictly prohibited. Violators will be terminated. And now, strawberries had somehow made their way into the anniversary dessert he personally made for me. It wasn't carelessness. It was a change in habit. He was no longer hyper-vigilant and terrified of the word "strawberry." Because someone else wasn't allergic. In fact, she loved them. If it hadn't been for the nurses' gossip just now, my heart probably would have softened. Just like the past twenty years—every time he made that face, I would forgive him. But now, my heart felt like it was being crushed by a massive, invisible fist. The pain made my entire body curl up. The heart monitor started blaring. My heart rate was spiking. "Doctor!" Arthur shot up, his voice panicked. In the chaos, the screen of the phone resting on his bedside table lit up. A new notification popped up: [Artie, I miss you.] Sender: Chloe. In that fraction of a second, all the sound in the room faded away. Only those four words remained, searing into my heart like a red-hot branding iron. Searing it until this heart would never beat for him again. My heart rate gradually stabilized. Arthur let out a long sigh of relief and tucked the blankets around me. "Sleep. I'll stay right here with you." The night grew deep. I looked at his sleeping profile. This face used to be the absolute religion of my youth. At six, he got a scar fighting a bully for me. At twelve, he blushed furiously while buying pads for me. At eighteen, he changed his college applications just to stay with me. At twenty-four, at our wedding, he knelt in front of my mother's grave and swore: "I will protect Evelyn with my life." Now, he had split his life in half and given the other piece away. Given it to Chloe. The product of my father's infidelity. The same girl who, fifteen years ago, handed me strawberry juice disguised as strawberry ice cream. The girl who stood outside the ICU glass window, smiling as she watched me hover between life and death. The most laughable part was that her triumphant return was entirely orchestrated by Arthur. He probably thought I was his caged bird now, unable to fly away. Just like he was absolutely certain that my family's corporation, Sterling Group, couldn't survive without the Vance family, and that I couldn't survive without him. My phone vibrated. It was an encrypted message from my family's head butler, Uncle Ray: "Miss, the property deed has been verified. The West Side estate was transferred to Chloe three months ago. The payment account is directly linked to Mr. Vance." I knew it. In that moment, my heart plummeted into a glacier. Strangely, I didn't feel any pain—just a freezing, absolute numbness. "Keep tracking the cash flow. I need every single transfer record. Don't miss a cent." "Also," I paused, typing, "contact Attorney Lee. Tell him to prepare to execute the emergency corporate structuring plan my mother left behind. But tell him to hold off until I give the final order." "Understood." On the third day after I was discharged, I drove to the West Side estate. The security guard at the gate stopped me. "Who are you here to see?" "Arthur Vance." I rolled down the window. "I am his wife." The guard's expression turned incredibly awkward before he finally let me through. In my rearview mirror, I saw the guards huddling together, whispering. See? Everyone knew. In this marriage, the biggest fool of all was me. I parked the car and stood outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa. I watched as Arthur gently fed a bright red strawberry into Chloe's mouth. I suddenly remembered when I was twenty. I was hospitalized again due to allergic complications. Arthur sat by my bed, repeatedly stroking the IV needle marks on my hand, his eyes bloodshot. "Evie, I swear I will never let another strawberry get near you." His heartbreak was genuine back then. But the plate of bright red strawberries sitting on the coffee table right now was also genuine. Arthur noticed me. His movement paused for just a second. Then, he stood up and walked toward the front door. There was no panic on his face—only the distinct annoyance of being interrupted. "Evie," his tone was flat, even carrying a hint of reprimand. "How did you find this place?" "Explain." My voice was raspy. "Chloe moved back to the States to start her career. She needed a place to stay." He lit a cigarette. "You know how unreliable your father is..." "Fifteen years ago, she almost murdered me," I cut him off. Arthur blew out a puff of smoke, obscuring his expression. "Evie," he frowned. "How long ago was that? Chloe was only ten. She didn't know any better." "And now?" I pointed inside the house. "She knew perfectly well I was allergic, yet she intentionally bought strawberry jam and swapped it with the blueberry. Is that 'not knowing any better,' or is that trying to murder me a second time?" "Evelyn," his voice turned cold. "Chloe just grabbed the wrong jar. Do you really have to be this aggressive?" Aggressive... In the past, he would say other people were malicious. Now, I was the one being "too petty." Chloe pushed the front door open and walked out. Her loose loungewear couldn't hide the slight curve of her pregnant belly. She was holding half a strawberry, the red juice seeping through her fingers. "Sister, please don't be mad at Arthur. It was my fault..." The sight of that bright red juice made my stomach churn violently. And Arthur just stood there, watching. He didn't stop her. He didn't immediately neutralize the threat like he had a million times before. Instead, he subtly shifted his body, stepping slightly in front of her, shielding her. That tiny, subconscious movement... ...shattered the last pathetic shred of hope I had left. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the sharp pain helped me maintain my composure. "Monday's board meeting," my voice was unnervingly steady. "I want your three proxy votes." Arthur visibly let out a sigh of relief. A knowing, arrogant smirk touched his lips. "Of course. Didn't we agree on that ages ago?" "I'm talking about a permanent proxy transfer," I continued. "And this estate. Sign it over to my name tomorrow." Chloe's face instantly went pale, but Arthur just laughed and shook his head. "Evie, stop acting out. What's mine is yours." He was giving me an "out," absolutely certain that the Sterling Group desperately needed the Vance family's backing. He was certain that twenty years of history meant I could never leave him. Every word he spoke was a reminder: Evelyn, you don't have the leverage to burn this bridge. Chloe gently tugged at the hem of his shirt, her voice soft and whiny: "Artie, I don't need the house. Just please don't be mad at her..." "See how understanding Chloe is?" Arthur looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment. "Evelyn, you never used to be like this." Used to be. The Evelyn of the past believed in love. The Evelyn of today didn't. "The three votes. The estate," I repeated, even offering a small smile. "Or, I revoke the corporate backing for your clean energy licensing renewal." I watched his smile instantly freeze. I enunciated every word: "Those connections belong to my mother's estate. I gave them to you, and I can take them back." Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away. As I got into my car, a text from Arthur popped up: "Let's talk. You know I love you." I stared at those three words, remembering how he had just shielded Chloe with his body. I dialed a number. "Take the evidence of Chloe's father embezzling corporate funds and send it anonymously to the FBI's financial crimes division. I want it done today." In the rearview mirror, Arthur's figure sprinting out of the house grew smaller and smaller. "And take the evidence of Arthur transferring marital assets and committing adultery... package it up, and send it directly to his mother." The lights at the charity gala were blinding. When Arthur brazenly walked in with Chloe on his arm, the entire ballroom fell dead silent for a fraction of a second. The smooth, jade bracelet on Chloe's wrist stabbed my eyes. It was the heirloom bracelet my mother had personally placed on my wrist right before she died. Arthur walked straight toward me, his tone entirely casual. "Jewelry is meant to be worn." He noticed me glaring dead at the jade bracelet and frowned slightly. "Besides, you're the older sister. You should be more magnanimous." Older sister... I remembered the vow he made kneeling at my mother's grave. He swore he would never let any filth touch anything I cared about. Now, he was personally hand-delivering the absolute worst kind of filth right to my face. "Take it off," my voice was as cold as dry ice. Arthur grabbed my arm. "It's just a bracelet." He lowered his voice, his breath brushing against my ear. "Evelyn, you've been spoiled by power for too long. You can't handle the slightest bit of compromise. That's a bad trait." He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to caress my cheek, but stopped mid-air. "I'm helping you grow." Grow... Using my dead mother's heirloom, my husband's betrayal, and an illegitimate sister's provocation... to help me grow. At that moment, Chloe started taking the bracelet off, but her movements were exaggeratedly slow, like a scene playing out in slow motion. "Sister, please don't be mad. I'll give it back to you right now..." Her fingers trembled, her eyes reddened. She looked like a terrified, bullied victim. But her eyes were smiling. Fifteen years ago, standing outside the ICU glass window, that was the exact same smile she wore while she watched me fight for my life. As she spoke, the jade bracelet slipped from her wrist, tracing a perfect arc through the air. I saw Arthur instinctively reach out to catch it. And I saw the microscopic, deliberate flick of Chloe's fingertips right before the bracelet fell. SMASH! It felt like my heart violently seized in sync with the sound of the shattering jade. Something inside me shattered right along with it. After a moment of silence, Arthur bent down and picked up the largest shard. He glanced at it casually and tossed it back onto the floor. "It's fine that it broke." He wrapped his arm around Chloe's trembling shoulders. "I'll buy you a new one tomorrow." Then, he looked at me. "You terrified Chloe. Apologize." The eyes of the entire ballroom were locked on us. He was waiting for me to lose control. He was waiting for me to scream. He wanted me to act like a hysterical, unhinged wife and physically attack Chloe in front of everyone. Because then, he could perfectly justify his narrative: "See? Evelyn is just too spoiled." It was his twisted way of proving he still possessed absolute control over me. I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. Then, I heard my own voice. It was terrifyingly calm. "I am sorry." A flash of absolute shock, mixed with an imperceptible trace of anxiety, crossed Arthur's eyes. He clearly hadn't expected me to bow my head so peacefully. But the anxiety vanished in a second. Very quickly, his eyes returned to the arrogant composure of a man in control. I followed his gaze toward the auction stage, and my breath caught. It was my mother's vintage violin. He had actually put it up for auction. My private accounts only had five million dollars in liquid cash right now—the initial funding for my new project. And Arthur, knowing exactly where my vulnerability lay, bid the price up to six million, brutally crushing my dignity. Bang. The gavel fell. Amidst the applause, Chloe stood up and raised her champagne glass toward me, her smile sickeningly sweet. Arthur turned his head and gave me a faint smile. "Chloe wants to learn the violin. Mrs. Sterling's violin going to a daughter of the Sterling family is perfectly fitting." The guests around us exchanged sly, knowing looks. So, CEO Vance has finally gotten sick of his domineering wife and is elevating the gentle, sweet illegitimate daughter to take her place. After the gala, Arthur forced me into his car. "Next week's board meeting," he lit a cigarette. "I'll vote 'yes' with my three proxy votes. But my condition is... you have to publicly acknowledge Chloe's child as a legitimate heir to the Sterling bloodline, and eventually add the child to the family trust." I turned to look at him. "And if I don't?" Arthur laughed. It was the laugh of a man holding all the cards. "You won't," he said. "You care too much about the Sterling Group. You care too much about the empire your mother built. Evelyn, you're too emotional." The car pulled up to the estate. He leaned over and unbuckled my seatbelt. "Think about it carefully. I want your answer before the board meeting on Monday." I got out of the car and walked through the front gates without looking back. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind me, I called Uncle Ray. "Initiate Plan B," I said. "Deliver all the evidence to the District Attorney's office first thing tomorrow morning." ...
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