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The Seven-Year Scam: My Daughter is My Husband's Mistress's Child
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
Seven years after marrying Viggo, I discovered that my daughter Cruella, whom I had raised for six years, was Viggo's child with another woman, and that I was just their surrogate mother. On set, I wa...
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第1章
Seven years after marrying Viggo, I discovered that my daughter Cruella, whom I had raised for six years, was Viggo's child with another woman, and that I was just their surrogate mother.
On set, I watched with my own eyes as Cruella let go of Viggo’s hand and ran happily toward a woman.
The moment I saw her face, I stopped breathing.
Carmilla. Back in college, she spread some rumors that I wore fake crap, that I could only have this much money by screwing some old man.
She even spread rumors that I was selling myself—made a price for a night—flooding my phone with harassment messages asking if I’d service them.
Now，Viggo naturally wrapping an arm around her shoulders, then leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“I’m late. Did you wait long?”
Carmilla smiled and kissed him back, her tone intimate. “The last scene just wrapped. Perfect timing. Didn’t you say you booked a hotel?”
“Mm,” he replied. “It’s our tenth anniversary. We can’t be careless.”
Tenth… anniversary?
I stood in the shadows, my entire body turning numb.
Nine years. That’s how long I’d even known him...
At that moment, my heart went completely empty.
That night, my husband slid a document across the table. A divorce agreement dressed up like some bullshit business contract.
He planned to take the mansion, the company, even the gifts I got during our wedding and still expected me to keep slaving away, raising a child for him and his mistress like some obedient idiot!
He thought he could trick me into signing the divorce papers and leaving me with nothing.
What that shameless man didn’t know was that I had already changed the terms.
But soon, he'll understand what it feels like to lose everything.
After signing the papers, I turned around and left, going back to my room.
I picked up the phone and called overseas.
“Dad,” I said, “I’m getting divorced. I’ll come home. I’ll inherit the family estate. When I get back, I will sue Viggo and make him return all the investment money my family has made over the years!”
This time, I am no longer a woman asleep in the illusion of love.
As a woman who understands the truth, I will become a rising queen and reclaim everything!
1
Mariah’s POV
On the day of my daughter’s parent-teacher conference, my life completely turned over.
It should have been a happy day. Cruella had won first place in a citywide writing competition with an essay about gratitude toward her mother. As her parent, I was invited to represent the families and go onstage to share my “parenting experience.”
When I stepped up to the podium, I was still smiling.
But that smile froze the moment I read the first line aloud.
“My mom loves dyeing her hair in all kinds of colors. Not long ago, she dyed it brunette again.”
Instinctively, I reached up and touched my hair.
Black. I had never dyed it. I tried to calm myself. Maybe children exaggerate.
But then came the second sentence.
“My mom loves wearing high heels. She looks especially beautiful when she walks.”
I don’t own a single pair of high heels. I gave them up completely after getting pregnant.
A sense of unease crept in, but I forced myself to continue.
“My mom isn’t very tall. She has a heart-shaped face and doe eyes.”
My throat tightened. I couldn’t go on.
I’m 5’7”, broad-shouldered, with a round face.
Nothing in her description matched me.
A parent suddenly spoke up from the audience.
“Teacher, may I ask, how authentic is this essay? If it doesn’t match reality, is it really appropriate for it to win first place?”
In that instant, it felt as though someone had slapped me across the face in public.
I barely held myself together, made an excuse about feeling unwell, and left early.
The moment I sat in my car, I realized my hands were shaking.
A strange, nameless panic rose in my chest.
Before I could sort through my thoughts, a notification popped up on my phone. It was our family’s medical checkup report from the hospital.
When my eyes landed on the final line, my entire body went rigid.
[Child’s blood type: A]
I checked it again. And again. Three times in total.
My husband, Viggo, and I—one of us is AB, the other B.
No matter how you calculate it, we could never have an A-type child!
My first reaction was that the system must be wrong, so I immediately called the doctor.
After listening, he asked carefully, “Has your daughter’s father always handled her medical checkups?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
There was a brief pause. When the doctor spoke again, his tone was cautious and deliberate.
“There is only one explanation.”
“Either the child was switched at birth… or you are not her biological mother.”
I heard the last sentence. But I couldn’t understand it.
I carried Cruella for ten months. I endured countless shots to protect my pregnancy. I even vomited blood from severe reactions. How could she not be my child?!
I hung up and, almost on instinct, slammed my foot on the gas and drove home.
I needed an explanation from Viggo!
What the fuck is actually going on?!
But as soon as I reached the hallway, I saw him holding Cruella’s hand, about to head out.
I heard my daughter say excitedly, “Yay! Finally, Daddy, we get to watch Mommy act again! I’m so happy!”
Viggo reminded her gently, “Be good, okay? When we get to the set, don’t cause trouble for Mommy.”
A set? Acting?
A sharp pain spread through my chest. My first thought was he’s cheating.
But what the hell did an affair have to do with Cruella not being my biological child?
She came out of my body!
I needed answers, so I secretly followed them.
The car drove toward a film set on the outskirts of the city.
Viggo led Cruella straight inside.
I called my assistant, and ten minutes later, I walked into the set as well.
Then, I watched with my own eyes as Cruella let go of Viggo’s hand and ran happily toward a woman.
“Mommy!”
The woman crouched and scooped her up with practiced ease, her voice soft and familiar.
“Why are you running so fast? What if you fall?”
The moment I saw her face, I stopped breathing.
Carmilla.
My former college roommate, the one I had fallen out with completely.
Viggo walked over, naturally wrapping an arm around her shoulders, then leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“I’m late. Did you wait long?”
Carmilla smiled and kissed him back, her tone intimate. “The last scene just wrapped. Perfect timing. Didn’t you say you booked a hotel?”
“Mm,” he replied. “It’s our tenth anniversary. We can’t be careless.”
Tenth… anniversary?
I stood in the shadows, my entire body turning numb.
Seven years. That’s how long I had been married to him. Nine years. That’s how long I’d even known him!
Yet, they didn’t hide their affair, speaking without avoiding Cruella or anyone else.
Everyone around them acted like this was old news.
Carmilla pouted playfully. “When are you planning to divorce that woman? I’m established now. We can finally be together openly. We can make it official.”
Viggo replied softly, “Not yet. Her father’s money hasn’t fully come through.”
Carmilla frowned. “Seven years of marriage and you still haven’t squeezed all the value out of her?”
He chuckled. “Jealous now? Wasn’t marrying her your idea? You said she had a strong build, good for having kids. You wanted her to carry the baby so you could focus on your career without worries, right?”
Carmilla snorted lightly, her eyes smug. “Well, Cruella’s already grown. I hate hiding like this. I don’t want paparazzi calling me a mistress someday, when I knew you first.”
Viggo nodded, his tone soothing. “Don’t worry. I’ve always been careful with her. She’ll never get pregnant with my child.”
“Cruella will be our only child. I’ll handle the divorce cleanly and then marry you.”
My mind exploded with a loud buzz.
All those years, Viggo had claimed he had weak fertility. He begged me again and again to do IVF. He even knelt and swore he would love me for life. I softened. I agreed.
For an entire year, I endured injections, hormone treatments, and pregnancy preservation. God, I nearly died on the operating table!
All along, it was never about wanting a child, huh?
It was about getting a child without Carmilla paying any price!
They had secretly switched the embryos!
I had unknowingly become their surrogate!
Before I could process this absurd truth, Cruella suddenly hugged Carmilla’s leg and looked up at her.
“Mommy! I like you so much!”
“I hate the mommy at home!”
“She’s not pretty, she’s always strict, and she forces me to learn so many things I don’t even like!”
At that moment, my heart went completely empty.
I watched the husband who had always acted like an emotionally clueless “straight man” fuss tenderly over Carmilla.
I watched the girl I had raised for six years, who had never once said “Mom, I love you,” cling to another woman and pour out her affection.
I left the set like a walking corpse. Then I called my dad, with whom I had cut ties years ago just to marry Viggo.
My voice, however, came out unexpectedly calm.
“Dad.”
“I’ve thought it through.”
“I want a divorce. This family… I don’t want it anymore.”
第2章
Mariah’s POV
“Are you sure?”
Dad’s voice was low on the line.
“This isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision?”
I leaned back against the rear seat of the car and closed my eyes for a second.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve thought it through, Dad.”
He paused, then said, “Alright. If you’ve made up your mind, come back.”
“I’ll get you a lawyer. From here on, everything goes by your call.”
“But there’s one thing you need to understand.”
“If you come back to run the company, you can’t just come and go like before.”
“From now on, any man you bring in has to be a husband. Marriage, assets, kids? Everything has to be in your name.”
He stopped for a beat.
“That’s the Victorians rule.”
“I know,” I replied without hesitation. “I agree.”
A soft sigh came through the phone.
“Seven days then,” he said. “You need to report to the company in seven days.”
“Alright.”
Shortly after, the car pulled up in front of the law firm.
I didn’t hesitate. I went straight inside, explained my intention, and asked for a divorce agreement to be drafted.
The receptionist lawyer hesitated, her expression turning awkward.
“Ma’am… there’s already a divorce agreement under your name,” she said. “It hasn’t been signed yet.”
My heart skipped.
“Who filed it?” I asked.
“Sir Viggo Roosevelt.”
For a moment, I thought I’d misheard, so I asked to see the document.
After verifying my identity, the lawyer handed it to me.
I flipped through it page by page. With every line, my heart grew colder.
The agreement spelled everything out clearly. How Viggo would “use” my premarital assets free of charge. How the company we built after marriage would be transferred entirely into his personal name. How he even accused me of “marital infidelity” to claim a larger share of the assets.
In the end, I would walk away with nothing.
Not even the company we had built together. He didn’t plan to leave me even a single damn cent!
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“So that’s how it is.”
I pushed the agreement back across the table, my tone so calm that even the lawyer froze for a second.
“Have my lawyer revise it,” I said. “When it’s done, give it back to Viggo.”
He wants me penniless?
Oh, Viggo, if you don’t end up exactly the way you were before marrying me, with nothing to your name, then I don’t deserve the Victorian family name.
By the time I got home, it was already late.
Cruella was sitting in the living room playing with her toys. The moment she saw me, her face darkened.
“Bad woman! Why are you home so late?”
She frowned, her voice sharp. “Were you out fooling around again?”
I stopped in my tracks. “Cruella—”
“You’re so shameless!” She raised her voice. “Other kids’ moms are already home by now. You’re the only one who isn’t!”
Viggo stood up from the couch, his tone displeased.
“Look at yourself,” he said. “You’re a mother. Do you think this is appropriate?”
“Coming home this late every day. What kind of example are you setting for her?”
I stood in the entryway, my hands slowly curling into fists.
I had heard this lecture for seven years.
Whenever I worked late, he’d tell our daughter that women who come home late are restless and improper.
If I woke up late and didn’t make breakfast, he’d say a good mother would never let her child go hungry.
Under this constant emotional pressure, I’d been forced to give up parts of the company, rush home early, juggle being a stay-at-home mom while still trying to build a career.
And yet, nobody ever noticed what I gave. All I got in return was fucking blame!
“There was something going on at the company,” I said, swallowing my emotions out of habit.
“Cruella, go to bed early. You have art class tomorrow.”
The words had barely left my mouth when she suddenly screamed.
“I don’t want to go!”
That brat grabbed a cup from the table and hurled it at me.
I didn’t have time to dodge. The cup shattered against my forehead. A sharp ringing filled my ears. I staggered, reached up, and my hand came away covered in blood.
“I don’t want to learn painting!” She cried hysterically. “I hate it! Why are you forcing me? You’re a bad mommy!”
Viggo rushed over immediately and pulled her into his arms.
“Alright, alright. Baby, don’t cry,” he soothed softly.
Then he frowned at me. “What’s wrong with you, honey? Why are you putting so much pressure on the child?”
“She’s only six.”
“Isn’t it better for her to grow up happy?”
As I stood where I was, a chill crept up from my feet.
Back then, it was Cruella who loved painting. She begged me for it again and again.
I was the one who thought she was too young and wanted to wait.
It was Viggo who said I was selfish. Who said I wasn’t thinking about her future. Who said it would make her fall behind at the starting line.
And now, somehow, it was all my fault.
I wiped the blood from my face, my voice turning cold.
“Cruella. Apologize to me.”
The living room went silent.
“You dared to hit your mother today,” I said, staring at her. “Tomorrow, will you dare to hit other kids at kindergarten?”
“I will not accept raising a criminal.”
I had never spoken so harshly to her before.
She froze then burst into loud sobs.
“Bad mom! Bad mom! Bad mom! I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”
“Why should I apologize to a bad mom?”
Viggo’s expression darkened completely.
“Mariah! When did you become this petty?”
“It’s just a little scratch. Is it really worth getting angry at a child over? Right now, you don’t look like a mother at all!”
I suddenly laughed.
“What does a mother ‘look like’?”
Is this the fucking face I make after giving birth, no milk, forced to drink that nasty-ass medicine?
Or when she stumbled learning to walk, I had to fucking kneel on the floor, teaching her step by step like some damn servant until she could walk?
The more I remembered all the shit I went through before, the colder I felt. I used to endure it all for the “love” of this damn family. Even if it was bitter, I swallowed it like it was sweet, thinking we were all on the same page.
But now, I know—the only ones on the same damn page are them, not me.
I endure, I retreat, I play nice, and this fucking family doesn’t change a bit.
They just take it all for granted!
“You’re still being stubborn!” Viggo said coldly. “Apologize to Cruella. Or I’ll take her to my parents’ place for a while.”
Once upon a time, that sentence used to terrify me the most.
Fear of shit from my mother-in-law, fear of being shot down by my father-in-law, fear that Viggo’s family would hate me.
But now? Not a damn bit of fear left.
I spoke softly.
“Cruella, if you don’t want to learn, then you won’t. I’ll cancel the tutoring classes.”
“If private school doesn’t suit you, I’ll transfer you to public school.”
“From now on, I won’t interfere in your life anymore.”
Viggo froze.
Before he could say anything, Cruella cheered.
“That’s what a good mom is like!”
I didn’t respond. I just turned around and went back to the bedroom to bandage my wound.
Soon, the door opened.
Viggo walked in, his tone gentler.
“Honey, did something happen to you today?”
He reached out, trying to help me apply some ointment.
“Why did you suddenly cut off Cruella’s classes?”
I raised my hand and pushed him away, my voice flat and cold.
“Isn’t this what you and Cruella wanted? I’m just letting her grow up happy.”
第3章
Mariah’s POV
My words caught Viggo off guard.
He clearly hadn’t expected that response. His expression froze for a couple of seconds before his brows knit together again, his tone slipping back into that familiar “I’m doing this for your own good” voice.
“You can’t put it that way,” he said.
“The tutoring can slow down, sure. But how can you just cut everything off completely? Do you know how hard it was to get Cruella into that private school? You spent so much effort back then. Have you really forgotten?”
I didn’t respond. I just lowered my head and kept tending to the wound.
Standing beside me, Viggo watched my indifference. A flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes, quickly smothered.
“If you don’t agree,” I said flatly, “then you can explain it to your daughter yourself.”
“This was a decision you and she made together.”
He clearly froze.
He had never seen me this cold before.
In the past, no matter what he said, I’d instinctively smoothed things over for him, cleaned up his messes, never once pushed responsibility back onto him.
The displeasure crossed his face again, gone just as quickly.
As if remembering something, he suddenly reached into his briefcase, pulled out a document, and handed it to me.
“Alright, let’s drop the Cruella issue for now.”
“Oh, right. Sign this.”
He spoke casually. “A deal I just closed today. The process is a bit rushed.”
Cruella’s issue wasn’t urgent. He didn’t really believe I’d stop caring about her anyway. He just assumed I was saying things out of anger.
This so-called deal, on the other hand, mattered.
If this were before, I wouldn’t even have opened the contract.
I never interfered in his career. I just signed, transferred money, and took responsibility when things went wrong.
This time, I didn’t bother reading it either.
Because I already knew that this wasn’t a goddamn business contract at all.
It was a fucking divorce agreement dressed up as one.
Judging by his reaction, he probably hadn’t realized yet that the contents of that agreement had already been revised.
When he saw me sign, his shoulders visibly relaxed. His voice softened immediately, compliments spilling out.
“If this goes through, we’ll make a lot of money.”
“Honey, when it’s done, I’ll make it up to you. A proper wedding this time—big, formal, invite everyone.”
“You’ve always regretted not having one, haven’t you? I’ll make it up to you.”
Seven years ago, when we got married, he had nothing.
No wedding. No rings. Our parents hadn’t even formally met.
Over the years, every time he needed my support, he dangled the word wedding in front of me like bait.
And damn, I always believed him.
Even now, knowing he was divorcing me for Carmilla, when he used that familiar, practiced tactic, my chest still ached.
I blinked, forcing the bitterness down. As I handed the document back, I couldn’t stop myself from adding, “If… we got divorced—”
I didn’t even finish before he cut me off, righteous and firm.
“How could we get divorced?”
His tone was absolute. “This family can’t function without you. Neither I nor our daughter can live without you.”
“You’re the backbone of this household. Don’t overthink things.”
He sounded so certain.
Yet his words and his actions couldn’t have been more opposite.
Before I could speak again, I noticed the smile he couldn’t quite suppress.
He thought he could trick me into signing the divorce papers and leaving me with nothing.
But soon, he'll understand what it feels like to lose everything.
As if realizing something, he coughed and forced himself back into composure.
“Alright. Get some rest. I’m going to step out and make a call.”
And with that, he hurried out of the room.
He even forgot to finish applying the meds.
I bit down on self-mockery.
Not long after, my phone vibrated.
It was a message from the lawyer.
[Ma’am, the divorce agreement has officially entered the process.]
I stared at that line for a long time.
And then I laughed.
I laughed and laughed until I finally broke, collapsing onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
Nine years of sincerity.
I’ll just consider myself blind, terrible at judging people.
After crying, I calmed down quickly.
Silently, I packed my belongings. I contacted the school, canceled all of Cruella’s tutoring classes, withdrew her enrollment from the private school, transferred her to a public one, and froze her allowance account.
I had never been speaking out of anger.
As for Viggo, he didn’t know yet.
In a few days, the company I brought into the marriage as a wedding gift would return, intact, to my dad’s name.
Including the house we were living in.
Everything I’d bought for this so-called family of three over the years, I sorted through it all. What could be thrown away, I threw the hell away.
When I came back again, the door was shut.
I opened it and saw Carmilla.
She was sitting on the living-room couch, sunglasses and a mask on, her suitcase beside her.
Cruella hovered around her, looking up at her like a little chick, chatting eagerly.
In the kitchen stood Viggo, hands that had never touched housework, wearing an apron, making her a late-night snack.
At the sound of the door, Carmilla removed her sunglasses and mask and smiled at me.
“Mariah! You remember me, right?”
Her tone was casual, as if nothing were wrong.
“We were roommates in college.”
“My hotel in Glendale got exposed by paparazzi. I can’t go back right now.”
“I thought about it, and you and Viggo are the only people I know here.”
She gestured around.
“This neighborhood has good privacy. I’ll just stay for a bit.”
Then, as if remembering something, she added warmly, “We’re old classmates. You won’t mind, right?”
Viggo walked out of the kitchen holding a bowl of soup.
He didn’t even look at me.
“Of course not,” he answered on my behalf. “We’re old classmates. What’s wrong with staying a few days? The house is big.”
第4章
Mariah’s POV
My nails dug deep into my palms.
The divorce wasn’t even finalized, and Viggo had already brought Carmilla into my home!
Everyone there, except little Cruella, knew exactly what a shitstorm Carmilla and I had gone through.
Back in college, that bitch spread some rumors that I wore fake crap, that I could only have this much money by screwing some old man.
She even spread rumors that I was selling myself—made a price for a night—flooding my phone with harassment messages asking if I’d fuck them.
I had always considered her a close friend, trusted that fucking snake, until I could bear it no longer and investigated, only to find all the rumors came out of her lying mouth.
Later, she broke up with Viggo to pursue her entertainment debut.
And I, completely unaware of their past, was the one Viggo chased after.
After graduation, I found out the class had labeled me the other woman. They said I stole him. That I forced Carmilla into show business. At that time, I felt unbearably fucked over.
Viggo held me then and said, “People only see what’s on the surface. We just need to live our own lives.”
Looking back now, the only dumbass was me.
In the living room, the three of them acted like I didn’t exist.
Cruella eagerly served Carmilla a bowl of soup.
When Carmilla flinched from the heat, Cruella immediately grabbed her hand, full of concern.
“Mom, I mean, Auntie, I’ll blow on it for you.”
Viggo hurried over with burn ointment.
Meanwhile, the wound on my temple was still bleeding, and not a single fucking person looked at it.
I let out a sarcastic laugh and stepped forward.
I lifted my hand and smashed that bowl of soup onto the floor.
“Sorry.”
I looked at them, my tone calm.
“This is my house. No outsiders are allowed to live here!”
Viggo and Cruella both froze.
Before the sound of the bowl finished fading, Viggo had already stepped in front of Carmilla, his tone a mixture of shock and anger.
“Have you lost your mind?!” he snapped.
Cruella snapped out of it too, rushing over and shoving me hard.
“How can you be so cruel?! Mom—I mean, Auntie Carmilla—is just staying for a few days! What is wrong with you?!”
I stumbled back, my spine slamming into the edge of the table. The pain shot through me, but it was nothing compared to the icy ache spreading through my chest.
Maybe I had swallowed too much for too long.
At that moment, I was done swallowing shit.
“Listen carefully. Both of you.”
I straightened slowly, staring at them, enunciating every damn word.
“This house is mine. If you want to let some outsider stay here, fine.”
“But then the two of you can get the hell out with her.”
The air went dead silent.
Viggo stared at me like I’d grown another head. Then he let out a furious laugh.
“What did you just say?”
“We’ve been married all these years. The house belongs to both of us. Who the hell are you to decide alone?”
“This is my home!” Cruella shrieked. “Mine and Daddy’s!”
Only then did Carmilla speak, all slow and soft, playing the saint.
“It’s okay,” she sighed lightly. “If Mariah really doesn’t want me here, I’ll leave.”
That fake, delicate retreat made me look like the villain.
I turned my gaze to Viggo, cold as ice.
“She can stay,” I said coolly. “Ten thousand a day.”
“If you don’t pay, I’ll leak her location to her fans tomorrow.”
Carmilla’s face changed instantly.
She clearly hadn’t expected me to go that far.
For a moment, Viggo hesitated, too.
But then he looked like he remembered that the divorce agreement had already been signed. It would be finalized in a few days.
In his mind, ten thousand a day, seven days—seventy thousand. Compared to a house worth tens of millions? A fucking bargain.
He discreetly squeezed Carmilla’s hand, thinking I wouldn’t notice.
Then he turned to me, his voice softening.
“I know you mind that she’s my ex.”
“But that’s all in the past.”
“Mariah, if this makes you feel better, ten thousand it is.”
“I’ll pay. Okay?”
I didn’t respond. I simply held out my phone.
“Transfer it.”
His jaw tightened, but he wired the money anyway.
The moment the payment notification chimed, I turned and walked upstairs.
The house felt filthy to me now.
Tomorrow, I’d move out.
And soon enough, it would be sold.
That night, I woke up out of habit to use the bathroom.
The space beside me was empty.
I hadn’t wanted to share a bed with him in the first place. He insisted, saying the guest room was for Carmilla, so he had to stay with me.
When he tried to touch me earlier, I shut him down.
As I passed Carmilla’s door, I stopped.
They weren’t even trying to be quiet.
Her laughter drifted out, smug and teasing.
“Being with a big star… feels different, doesn’t it?”
Viggo’s reply was low, casual.
“Of course.”
“She’s different.”
“She doesn’t have a waist as soft as yours. You’re fucking lethal.”
Carmilla chuckled.
“These few days, you’d better keep coaxing her.”
“Cruella’s still hard to handle at this age. Once she starts elementary school, it’ll be easier. Then you can dump that woman.”
Viggo answered without hesitation.
“Alright. Whatever you say.”
That’s when I finally understood.
Why the divorce agreement was signed, yet he hadn’t acted.
He was waiting for me.
Waiting for me to keep serving as their free nanny. Waiting to squeeze out whatever value I had left before discarding me.
A silent, bitter smile touched my lips.
I pulled out my phone and recorded everything.
Then I sent the file to my assistant.
[Seven days. Send this to Carmilla’s biggest rival.]
If this was the entertainment industry, you solve problems the entertainment way.
They're so smug now, so pleased with what they think is their perfect plan. But in the end, the one who will suffer won't be me, but them.
第5章
Mariah’s POV
Back in my room, I lay awake all night.
I thought about every time Viggo and I had been intimate over the years. Every single time, it was over before it even began.
I had tried initiating. Tried pleasing him. Tried warming something that always felt cold.
He always said he was just tired. That he didn’t have the energy.
Turns out it wasn’t about energy.
He just wasn’t interested in me.
I wiped the dampness from the corner of my eyes and forced them shut.
When I woke up the next morning, the house was already empty.
I didn’t bother wondering where they’d gone.
I went straight to the company under my name. I wanted everything settled cleanly.
But the moment I walked into the lobby, I saw Viggo. Beside him was Carmilla, wearing a mask. There was also Cruella, her hand held tightly between them. They were strolling through the lobby like a family.
I had never seen him look this openly triumphant.
Like a rooster showing off its prize.
All these years, everything he had, his position, his status, had come from me.
In front of me, he always had to lower his head, restrain himself, and pretend.
In front of Carmilla, he finally felt whole.
I was busy. I didn’t want to acknowledge them. I just wanted to finish my work and leave.
But Carmilla called out anyway.
“Mariah! You’re here!” She smiled. “It’s been so many years. I didn’t expect you’d still be this impressive, building a company this big with Viggo.”
In just a few sentences, she lightly brought up college, brought up dating, and casually mentioned the past.
“Back then, Viggo and I were together. Then you suddenly appeared.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Maybe… you two really were meant to be.”
“I just wasn’t lucky enough.”
In just a few sentences, she painted me as the shameless intruder.
But she misjudged her audience.
Aside from a few new hires whispering among themselves, the long-time employees, people who’d followed me for years, turned around and walked away with a blank expression.
Viggo was pleased.
He leaned in and said quietly, “Carmilla hasn’t seen the company before. I’m just showing her around.”
“Don’t overthink it.”
Cruella chimed in, too.
“Mom, don’t be jealous.”
“That’s what bitter women do.”
I didn’t look at them again.
I handed the reviewed contract to my assistant and turned to leave.
I’d just reached the end of the corridor when the floor jolted beneath my feet.
At first, it felt like a brief imbalance like an elevator misfiring.
Then the entire floor began to sway. Ceiling lights rattled violently, metal screeching.
The earthquake alert sounded.
My first instinct wasn’t to run. I turned back.
“Everyone evacuate immediately!” I shouted toward the office floor. “Follow the drill routes. Don’t push!”
The veteran employees moved almost on reflex, grabbing emergency kits, shielding one another as they headed for the stairwells.
But the new hires Viggo had brought in clearly hadn’t been trained.
They panicked, screaming and stampeding toward the exits.
“Stop running!” I tried to stabilize the chaos. “Stay against the wall! Move in order!”
But no one listened.
In the confusion, Viggo scooped up Cruella with one arm, grabbed Carmilla with the other, and bolted for the exit without looking back.
I had just taken a step when he shoved me hard.
“Move!”
I wasn’t prepared for that. I slammed into the edge of a desk. Pain tore through my lower back. Before I could steady myself, another desk was knocked over by the crowd and crashed down on my leg.
I let out a muffled groan. I was trapped in place!
Above us, a ceiling light broke free, falling straight toward Carmilla.
“Carmilla!”
Viggo reacted on instinct.
He released Cruella and lunged forward, throwing his body over Carmilla.
The light fixture smashed into his back. Blood soaked through his shirt almost instantly.
But he didn’t make a sound. He only held Carmilla tightly and said in a rushed, hoarse voice, “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”
Cruella, left behind when he let go and left her where she stood.
She fell to the ground, her face pale, crying without sound. Her limbs were weak; she couldn’t even stand up.
I saw her. No matter what, she was still the child I gave birth to.
My leg was pinned. My back throbbed so badly I could barely breathe. But I still clenched my teeth and dragged myself over.
“Cruella… don’t be scared.”
Panting, I pulled her into my arms. “Hold onto me.”
I dragged her toward the exit inch by inch. Dust and debris kept raining down. My throat burned from the air.
Thankfully, the shaking eased quickly.
Rescue staff rushed in and lifted the desk off my leg.
I had just steadied myself and hadn’t even had time to breathe in relief when Cruella suddenly shoved me away.
“Don’t touch me!”
第6章
Mariah’s POV
Cruella scrubbed at her face in disgust. “So gross! That’s disgusting!”
Before I could react, she stumbled toward Carmilla and threw herself into her arms.
“Mom! Are you okay? I was so scared… I was so scared…”
Carmilla burst into tears, clutching her tightly.
Viggo’s back was torn open, blood soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t spare himself a glance. He lowered his head, checking Carmilla over and over.
“Where does it hurt? Did you get scared?”
In that moment, love and indifference stood in stark contrast.
I stood off to the side, something lodged in my chest so tightly I could barely breathe.
For weeks I’d told myself to stay calm. To harden my heart. But when you finally understand that you are not the one being chosen… it still hurts. It hurts so badly your whole body trembles.
I didn’t understand how it had come to this.
I used to believe Viggo had loved me, at least once.
Seven years ago, during the cruise ship fire, he never left my side.
We drifted at sea for three days and three nights. He fed me his own blood to keep me conscious and begged me not to give up. When we were rescued and I burned with a high fever, he ignored his own weakness and took care of me for an entire week.
Back then, I thought I would marry no one but him.
My dad called me foolish. He threatened to cut ties with me. And I accepted it without hesitation.
But now, with something to compare it to, I finally see the truth.
He did save me. It just wasn’t love.
It was a carefully packaged debt of gratitude.
And that life-saving favor? Over these past few years, I’ve repaid it in full.
We owe each other nothing now.
At the hospital, I had just finished getting my wounds treated when the door to my room was kicked open.
Viggo’s parents stormed in.
“You curse!” his mother shrieked, pointing at me as if I were something rotten. She even tried to claw at my face. “If it weren’t for you, how could he be hurt this badly?”
“What kind of company building collapses like a condemned house? Lights falling from the ceiling?! Are you kidding me?”
I looked up at them, cold and steady.
“My building meets top-tier safety standards. No one controls an earthquake. Your son got hurt because he chose to save someone. Why is that my fault?”
She froze, clearly not expecting me to talk back.
Her face flushed red. Clutching her chest dramatically, she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.
“You’re coming with me. You’re going to apologize to Viggo!”
But when we reached his hospital room, they suddenly stopped.
Viggo had settled Carmilla onto the bed. He was feeding her medicine himself.
When he saw his parents, he didn’t even glance in my direction.
“She was really shaken up,” he said. “Mom, can you massage Carmilla’s head? She says it’s killing her.”
His parents’ expressions changed instantly. They rushed over to her bedside.
“Oh, dear, what’s wrong? Why are you so pale?”
Then, as if on cue, they turned and snapped at me again.
“This is all because your company isn’t safe! You bring nothing but bad luck, making everyone miserable!”
Cruella ran over and hit me.
“You built a bad building on purpose! You wanted to hurt my mom!”
Carmilla spoke weakly from the bed.
“Cruella, don’t blame Mariah. No one can predict an earthquake.”
Viggo’s eyes reddened with tenderness. Right in front of me, he brushed her hair back and kissed her gently on the cheek.
“I’m sorry you had to go through this.”
Cruella threw herself into Carmilla’s arms again. “Mommy worked so hard.”
His parents sighed along.
“If he’d married Carmilla back then, none of this would’ve happened.”
As if the earthquake were something I had personally caused!
As if only Carmilla had been injured, and I hadn’t been hurt at all.
I stood there, expressionless.
But inside, it felt like thousands of ants were gnawing at my heart. The pain spread and spread until I could barely stand. Until I nearly broke.
The in-laws I’d bent over backward to please adore Carmilla.
The husband and daughter I gave everything to didn’t recognize me. Didn’t love me. Didn’t even ask about my injuries.
I was a complete joke.
I turned and walked away without another word.
I asked the nurse to start my discharge paperwork.
It wasn’t even finished when someone blocked my path at the corner of the hallway.
“Mariah.”
I looked up.
Carmilla stood a short distance away.
Her makeup was gone. A strip of gauze was taped to her forehead. She looked pale, fragile. In her hand, she held a cup of warm water, like she’d been waiting for me.
“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly. “Back at the company… I didn’t expect Viggo to act so impulsively.”
第7章
Mariah’s POV
I didn’t respond. I turned and started to walk away.
“Honestly, the way he rushed over like that scared me, too.”
She continued behind me, her voice calm, not loud, but every word landed clearly.
“I didn’t even have time to react. He was already standing in front of me.”
“Don’t misunderstand,” she added lightly. “It was just instinct. He saved me first without thinking. After all, no matter how much you have, you still can’t win a man’s heart.”
The words were naked provocation. A quiet boast.
My steps slowed, but I didn’t turn around.
Then, suddenly, a dull thud sounded behind me.
A woman’s sharp gasp. The sound of a body hitting the floor.
A bad feeling surged up my spine.
I spun around.
Carmilla was sprawled on the ground, her forehead smashed against the sharp corner of a cabinet. Blood streamed down from her temple.
She lifted her head, eyes red, voice trembling.
“Mariah… why did you push me?”
For a split second, my mind went completely blank.
Then the hospital room door flew open.
Viggo rushed in.
He saw the blood and Carmilla on the floor.
His face darkened instantly.
“Mariah!”
He crossed the room in a few strides and slapped me across the face.
The sound was sharp and loud. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang.
“Have you lost your mind?!” he roared. “She’s an actress! How could you hurt her face?!”
“If you’re angry, take it out on me!”
“Is this because my parents don’t like you, so you lash out at someone else?”
I spoke on instinct. “I didn’t push her—”
Before I could finish, he cut me off with a cold laugh. “You didn’t?”
He looked at me with open contempt. “So you expect me to believe that an actress—someone who treasures her face more than anything—would smash her own head into a cabinet just to frame you?”
“Mariah,” he said slowly, deliberately, “do you really think you’re some pampered heiress having a princess meltdown?”
“You enjoy taking your anger out on others that much?”
At that moment, every urge I had to explain vanished.
He had already decided I was guilty. Nothing I said would change that.
I lifted my head and looked straight at him.
“A pampered heiress?”
I repeated softly.
“Yeah,” I said, suddenly smiling. “I am.”
“I gave up being one for you. I walked away from my dad’s wealth, brought you a wedding gift, married you, and built everything from the ground up by your side.”
“Anyone else can accuse me of having a princess complex,” I said, locking eyes with him. “But you, Viggo? You don’t deserve to.”
As the last word fell, I slapped him back. Harder than he had hit me.
The sound echoed through the room.
Viggo completely lost control. He never imagined that I, the woman who had always swallowed everything, would raise a hand against him.
He lunged forward, but Carmilla grabbed him tightly.
“Viggo, don’t,” she cried, shaking her head. “Forget it. I’m fine.”
That sentence snapped him back to reality.
He hadn’t gotten all my money yet. This wasn’t the time to lose his head.
He took a deep breath. His face was still ugly, but the pretense of tenderness was gone.
“Let’s go.”
He bent down, lifted Carmilla into his arms, and turned to leave.
Before walking out, he tossed over his shoulder,
“Mariah, I’m taking Cruella to stay with my parents for a few days. When you finally realize you were wrong, then I’ll come home.”
He thought it was a killing blow.
He thought I’d do what I always did. Llower my head, apologize, cry, beg him to come back.
But I never would again.
I wiped away my tears and took a deep breath.
Then I booked the earliest flight out.
All that packing over the past few days, sorting through my belongings, closing out the company, was just me being reluctant to leave a place I’d lived in for years. A home I hadn’t fully let go of.
But really, as the Victorians’s eldest daughter, what couldn’t I buy again? What company couldn’t I rebuild?
The reason I hadn’t left right away was never about those worthless things.
And now, none of it mattered.
At the airport, my lawyer’s message came through.
[Ma’am, all divorce procedures have been fully completed.]
[The terms of the divorce agreement are being enforced, and your ex-husband is about to lose everything.]
With a faint smile playing on my lips, I transferred the funds from my bank account to the law firm. I snapped a screenshot and sent it to my lawyer: "Thank you for your help. Please find the receipt for my legal fees attached."
Moments before the plane took off, I found the contact info for Viggo and his family and blocked them for good.
"Happy divorce, Viggo. Soon enough, you'll realize that the one leaving with nothing isn't me—it’s you."
Three days later, thinking everything was settled, convinced he still had me under control, Viggo smirked as he called the house landline.
He was waiting for me to cry, to apologize, to beg him to come home.
Instead, a stranger answered.
“Hello, this is a real estate agency.”
“The property has already been sold. Please return as soon as possible to collect your personal belongings. Otherwise, they will be disposed of in the community trash area.”
At the same time, Carmilla, face mask on, voice lazy, drawled from beside him.
“Honey, when can we move back into the big house?”
“Mariah still hasn’t apologized yet?”