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He Swapped My Baby , So I Destroyed His Empire
NovelShort
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"Dad, I'll agree to the arranged marriage. I'm divorcing Miles Winfield in three days. Book me the earliest flight out." Silence on the other end. Then my father's voice came through, equal parts fury...
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第1章
"Dad, I'll agree to the arranged marriage. I'm divorcing Miles Winfield in three days. Book me the earliest flight out."
Silence on the other end. Then my father's voice came through, equal parts fury and relief:
"You've finally come to your senses! Back then you refused to marry anyone but him, even cut ties with the family over it. Better late than never. The ticket's booked. Come home and take over the company!"
I hung up and sat quietly on the edge of the bed. Hearing my family's support hardened something inside me.
Just days ago, I'd received word that Chloe Abbott had been hit by a car on her way home from school.
The housekeeper had come running: "Ma'am, Miss Chloe lost too much blood in the accident. The hospital's running critically low on her blood type. In the panic, one of the doctor's assistants transfused your blood by mistake, assuming a direct relative's blood would be safe..."
I couldn't bring myself to read the rest. I stumbled downstairs, only to find Chloe lying peacefully in bed, smiling at me from across the room.
The doctor was pacing beside her, voice trembling:
"We administered emergency treatment immediately, but Miss Chloe showed absolutely no signs of rejection. Medically, that's impossible... unless she isn't your biological daughter at all."
I clutched the lab report. The room spun around me.
The daughter I'd raised for seven years wasn't mine?
Then where was the child I'd carried for nine months and brought into this world?
I swallowed the rage and panic churning inside me and ordered paternity tests for myself, Miles Winfield, and Chloe.
When the results came back, every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.
I shared no biological connection with Chloe whatsoever. Miles, however, was her biological father.
I called him like a woman possessed. Once, twice, a hundred times, five hundred, nine hundred and ninety-nine. My fingers went numb against the screen. Tears splattered across the display, blurring his name. The only answer was the same cold, mechanical voice on a loop, telling me the number I'd dialed was unavailable.
I drifted home like a ghost. The front door hadn't latched properly, and the voices inside carried through with sickening clarity.
"I've been slipping sterilization drugs into her supplements for years. Once all her family assets are transferred into Chloe's name, I'll divorce her. She'll have nothing. Even if she tries to fight back, what can she do? Chloe was always my daughter. All of this was always meant to be ours."
In that single moment, I finally understood exactly what I meant to him.
Blood roared in my ears. My chest felt like it was being carved open with a blade forged in ice.
Seven years of devotion. A whole heart given freely. All of it had been nothing but an elaborate lie.
I wiped my tears dry. The only thing left in my eyes was a cold that cut to the bone.
I would tear his world apart piece by piece and take back everything that was mine.
……
The stench of antiseptic hit me like venom, coiling into my nostrils the instant I stumbled through the emergency room doors, nearly knocked off my feet by the chaos.
"Ma'am! Miss Chloe has lost too much blood. The hospital is critically low on AB-type!"
A nurse seized my arm, her nails digging crescents into my skin. "The doctor's assistant panicked and transfused your blood type. We expected hemolytic shock, but now..."
My brain detonated. Every sound around me dissolved into a dull, shapeless roar.
A mother with type O blood could never produce a child with type AB. That was the most basic rule of blood-type inheritance.
I lurched into the trauma bay, only to find the girl I'd raised for seven years propped against the pillows, smiling at the doorway.
Her face was pale, but there wasn't a trace of rejection pain. She stretched out her small hands and called sweetly, "Mommy, you're here."
The attending physician blocked my path, mopping cold sweat from his brow, his voice unsteady: "Ms. Pruitt, this defies all medical logic... unless Chloe is not your biological daughter. I strongly recommend a paternity test as soon as possible."
His words drove into my chest like a poisoned spike hammered through my sternum.
I gripped the blood-type report so hard my knuckles went white, the paper crumpling into a ruined ball in my fist. The room tilted and swam.
"That's impossible!"
I shoved him aside and grabbed Chloe's warm little hand. Her pulse was steady, calm. But those words, not your biological daughter, buried themselves in my heart like shards of frozen glass.
Seven years.
From the squalling infant I'd cradled in the delivery room to the little girl with pigtails who called me Mommy. I'd surrendered my inheritance for her. I'd severed ties with my own father for her. I'd poured every waking hour into raising her. When she burned with fever in the middle of the night, I was the one holding her in that hospital corridor until dawn.
I'd believed we were bound by blood. And all of it was a lie?
Then where was the baby I'd carried for nine months, the one I'd nearly died bringing into the world?
My fingertips were ice. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Miles Winfield's number. Again. And again. From the first call to the nine hundred and ninety-ninth, the speaker fed me nothing but that cold, mechanical loop: The number you have dialed is currently unavailable.
My fingers went numb on the screen. Tears hit the glass and bled his name into an unreadable smear.
I staggered out of the hospital like a sleepwalker and crashed back to the home I'd built over seven years.
The door wasn't shut all the way. The conversation inside froze every drop of blood in my veins.
"That drug should've taken full effect by now. She'll never find anything wrong. She'll never have a child of her own for the rest of her life."
Miles Winfield's voice. Cold as a scalpel, utterly devoid of warmth. "Once the Pruitt Group shares are transferred into my name and the will is rewritten for Chloe, I'll file for divorce. She'll have nothing. She won't be able to make a single wave."
"Miles, what if she finds out?"
Stella Fox's silky purr drifted out next. His secretary. The woman Chloe lovingly called Aunt Stella.
"So what if she does?"
Miles let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. "She burned every bridge with her family for me. She has no one. Chloe was always my daughter. All of this was always meant to be ours."
My entire world collapsed.
Seven years of marriage, a fraud. Seven years of mother-daughter love, a mirage.
He'd stolen my heart and my fortune, laced my supplements with drugs that would leave me barren, and my own flesh-and-blood daughter had vanished without a trace.
I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron. Only then did I choke back the scream.
A tear slid free and hit the ground. The moment it landed, it turned to frost.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I'd blocked seven years ago.
The call connected. My father's voice poured through, raw with anger and shaking with joy:
"You've finally come to your senses! You refused to marry anyone but him, cut the whole family off for him. Better late than never. The ticket's already booked. Come home and take over the company!"
"Dad." I drew a long breath. My voice came out terrifyingly calm, edged with a certainty that left no room for argument. "In three days, I'm divorcing Miles Winfield. I need you to look into two things for me. First, find my real daughter. Second, dig up every filthy thing Miles and Stella Fox have done over the past seven years."
I hung up and leaned against the cold door, staring at the warm lamplight spilling through the house. The only thing left in my eyes was a barren, bone-deep hatred.
Miles Winfield. Stella Fox. And Chloe, who had stolen seven years of a mother's love that was never hers.
You took my child. You hijacked my life. You destroyed everything I had.
Now it was my turn to collect.
I turned to leave. Behind me, the door swung open.
第2章
Miles stood in a crisp suit, his gaze sharp and predatory as it fixed on me. "Hey, babe. What are you doing standing in the doorway? Come in."
Had he heard me?
Or was this another trap?
I tightened my grip on the voice recorder hidden in my pocket, my heart hammering against my ribs. But when I lifted my head, my expression was perfectly blank, as though I hadn't heard a thing. "Just got back from the hospital. I'm a little tired."
I kept my eyes lowered, smothering the murderous intent behind my lashes. From the corner of my eye, I caught Stella standing behind him, one hand resting on her belly in a gesture of quiet triumph, a flicker of cunning in her gaze.
Miles studied my face, his look equal parts suspicion and impatience. "How's Chloe? What did the doctor say?"
Not a shred of genuine concern. Just going through the motions.
I let my eyelids droop, masking the chill beneath, my voice roughened with exhaustion. "Nothing serious. She was just scared. Shook me up too."
I leaned into him, pretending my legs were giving out.
He sidestepped without thinking, the reflex so natural it cut to the bone. "If you're tired, go to your room. The housekeeper can handle things."
His eyes kept darting past me, as if checking for something.
A second later, Stella glided over with a glass of warm water, a saccharine smile plastered across her face. "You should drink something, Mrs. Winfield. As long as Chloe's fine, that's all that matters. Don't wear yourself out."
As she drew close, she made a show of stroking her belly. The display stung like a slap.
I swallowed my revulsion and took the glass, keeping my voice soft. "I really appreciate everything you've done lately."
"Miles is so busy. Taking care of the house is the least I can do." Stella slid a coy glance toward him, her tone dripping with an intimacy that made my skin crawl.
Miles nodded approvingly. "Stella's thorough. I don't have to worry. I've got to head back to the office."
"Wait." I feigned reluctance, reaching for his arm. "Chloe keeps asking for her daddy." My fingertip found the recorder's switch behind the fabric of my pocket and pressed down.
Stella cut in on cue. "Work comes first. Don't worry, Mrs. Winfield. I'll be here."
I gave a small, defeated nod. Miles walked out without looking back.
The moment the door closed behind him, Stella's mask dropped. She turned, lip curling. "He already belongs to me. Clinging to him won't change a thing."
I blinked at her, playing dumb.
She caressed her belly, practically glowing with spite. "I'm carrying his child. Once we get the Pruitt Group shares, he'll divorce you and marry me. Chloe was always ours. If you hadn't wormed your way in seven years ago, I would've been Mrs. Winfield from the start. Everything that should've been mine, I'm taking back. Piece by piece."
"You can't do this..." I let my voice crack, my whole body trembling as I gripped the edge of the sofa. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the tiny camera wedged beneath the coffee table.
I'd planted it that morning on my way out.
Stella's expression hardened, vicious now. "Be smart. File for divorce on your own, or you'll end up with less than nothing."
She swiveled on her heel and sauntered upstairs.
The second her door clicked shut, every trace of fragility drained from my face. What remained was ice. I pulled out my phone and dialed the private investigator.
"I need you to dig into Miles Winfield's recent asset transfers. And everything you can find about the hospital where I gave birth seven years ago. Staff records, security footage, all of it. The more detail, the better."
I hung up and walked into the study, logging into the Pruitt Group's financial system. As the sole heir to the Pruitt family, I hadn't been involved in day-to-day operations for years, but I'd never relinquished my core access.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. One by one, I located the hidden accounts where Miles had been siphoning funds and froze every last one. Then I backed up every shred of evidence of his embezzlement.
I closed the laptop. The only thing left on my face was a cold, thin smile.
They still thought I was the same pushover Martha Pruitt?
I stepped into Chloe's room. She called out "Mommy" in that sweet little voice and asked when Daddy was coming home.
"Daddy will be here as soon as he's done with work. You rest up, okay? I'll make you something to eat." My voice was steady, gentle. I smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
Once she'd settled, I got in the car and drove to the private hospital where I'd given birth.
In the records room, a single duty roster made my blood run cold. There, on the line for the nurse on shift the night I delivered, was one name: Jemima Finch.
I tracked down the head nurse from that time. Confronted with my attorney's letter and the evidence I'd gathered, she finally cracked.
"Jemima was definitely on the maternity ward that night. She resigned not long after your delivery. Word was she took an administrative position at the Winfield Group."
The truth was staring me in the face. The baby swap had been planned from the very beginning.
My fingers went white around the duty roster. I forced the tidal wave of rage back down.
City lights streaked past the car windows as I drove through the darkness, a fire burning behind my eyes.
Miles Winfield. Stella Fox. You stole my child, hijacked my life, and tried to destroy everything I had. This debt? I will collect it a thousandfold.
第3章
I clutched the duty roster with Jemima Finch's name on it, my fingertips trembling. Shock and rage lodged in my chest so thick I could barely breathe.
I drove back to the Winfield house in a daze. It wasn't until the car bumped against a stone bollard that I snapped back to reality. I stared at the front door and felt like I was looking at a stranger's home.
Before I could push the door open, the sound of another car pulled up behind me. Miles walked in with Stella on his arm, all smiles.
He glanced at me without a shred of concern. Only impatience. He strode inside and said flatly, "Stella's pregnant. She's moving in for a while."
Then, almost as an afterthought, with that same clipped irritation: "You two know each other. Don't be petty about it. Would it kill you to lend a hand?"
I lifted my gaze. I let just the right amount of shock and hurt surface in my eyes, let my voice tremble. "Moving in? Miles, this is our home. Mine, yours, and Chloe's for seven years. She's an outsider. How can you let her move in here?"
I deliberately stressed the word outsider and looked past him at Stella.
She stood there in a cream-colored dress, one hand resting on her barely showing belly, her face the picture of fragile innocence. But beneath those doe eyes lurked something triumphant.
The moment she heard my words, she ducked her head and twisted her fingers together, playing the wounded lamb. "Miles, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have asked for something like this. I've upset Martha. I should just go. I don't want to cause problems between you two."
She made a show of turning to leave, but Miles seized her wrist and held it tight.
He whipped around and glared at me, brow furrowed. "Martha, are you done making a scene? Stella is carrying my child. She has no one else. What's the big deal about letting her stay? It's just one more place setting at the table. Do you really have to be this difficult?"
I stood frozen. Memories detonated behind my eyes.
There was a time he would have shielded me behind his back. A time when he'd scowl if another man so much as glanced my way, swearing that his girl would never suffer a moment's hurt.
Now he shielded someone else, and all his cruelty was aimed at me.
"Your child?" I laughed, and the sound was bleak enough to cut. "Miles, I am your wife. Chloe is your daughter. This is your family. What is she? Your secretary? Your mistress? You brought her into our home. Did you even think to ask the woman of this house?"
I raised my voice on purpose, trying to rip away that righteous mask he wore.
But Miles didn't flinch. He tucked Stella behind him, his tone cold as a blade. "My mind is made up. This is settled. Either accept it, or move out yourself."
That sentence shattered the last sliver of illusion I had left.
Seven years of marriage, and to him it weighed less than nothing.
I lowered my eyes to hide the frost gathering in them and feigned surrender. "Fine. I'll agree. But I have conditions."
He scoffed, voice glacial. "You think you're in a position to negotiate?"
"Go make dinner. Now. Stella likes seafood. Cook it yourself. If a single dish is missing, don't bother coming back inside."
My whole body went rigid.
He knew full well I was allergic to shrimp and crab. There was a time he wouldn't even let me set foot in the kitchen. Now he wanted me to handle them with my own hands.
I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, my voice scraped raw. "Miles, you know I—"
"So what if I know?"
He cut me off. His eyes were ice, his tone stripped of every last trace of warmth. "Someone keep an eye on her while she cooks."
He turned, took Stella's arm, and guided her upstairs. His steps were brisk. He never once looked back.
I stood rooted to the spot, my fingers tightening around the voice recorder until my nails carved crescents into my palm.
The sharp sting of it didn't amount to a fraction of the pain in my chest.
The day Stella moved in, Miles cleared his entire schedule and waited on her hand and foot. He complained the housekeepers were too slow, so he carried the elegant gift boxes himself, wearing a tenderness on his face that had never once been mine.
I sat on the living room sofa like an outsider in my own home.
From that day on, Stella crowned herself lady of the house. She wielded her pregnancy like a scepter, ordering the staff around at every turn. Imported coffee, high-end supplements, leisurely strolls through the garden. The slightest inconvenience earned everyone a cold look and a sharp tongue.
The housekeepers seethed in silence. They came to me in whispers to complain, and I only said, calm and even, "Let her be. Just do as she says."
I was waiting. Waiting for her to slip up and show more of her hand. Waiting for Miles's indulgence to reach its breaking point. Waiting for the perfect moment to bring it all crashing down.
第4章
Chloe, meanwhile, was gradually warming up to Stella under her calculated charm offensive.
Stella kept buying all the snacks and toys I'd refused to give Chloe, cooing over her in that sugary voice, a stark contrast to my discipline. One evening I came home from work and heard laughter spilling from the nursery the moment I stepped into the living room.
I pushed open the door. Chloe was curled up in Stella's arms, clutching a brand-new Barbie doll, her eyes crinkled with delight.
She saw me. She didn't run over the way she always did.
Stella looked up, a saccharine smile fixed on her lips. "Martha's home. Chloe just loves this doll."
I recognized it instantly. The exact model Chloe had begged for on her birthday, the one I'd decided was too expensive. And Stella had used it to buy her way in.
I reached out to stroke Chloe's hair. She flinched and burrowed deeper into Stella's arms, her small voice barely above a whisper. "Mommy, Aunt Stella is nicer than you. She buys me lots of toys. You never let me have snacks or anything fun."
The words sliced through me like a blade of ice.
Seven years. Seven years of sitting up through fevers until dawn, holding her hands while she learned to walk, waking early every morning to make her breakfast, teaching her to read, teaching her right from wrong. I'd believed that seven years of devotion would earn me at least a sliver of her heart. One bag of candy from Stella, and it all crumbled to nothing.
I looked at Chloe's small, innocent face, and the last trace of warmth in my chest went out like a snuffed flame.
I withdrew my hand. My voice came out flat and still. "Is that so? Then you should stay with Aunt Stella from now on."
Chloe blinked, bewildered.
Stella's lips curled with triumph. She tightened her arms around the girl.
I turned and walked out of the nursery. The instant the door clicked shut behind me, the last flicker of light in my eyes died completely.
Miles. Stella. Chloe.
You stole my child. You hijacked my life. You trampled seven years of everything I gave.
Fine.
I walked into the study, locked the door, and opened my laptop. The cold glow of the screen reflected off eyes that held nothing but ice. Spread across the desktop were the files: every piece of evidence that Miles had been secretly siphoning off assets.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, backing up every last document.
Two days later, Miles appeared at my door holding a stack of papers, his expression arranged into something meant to look serious. "Martha, I need your cooperation on something."
The harsh light of the study fell across the header: Pruitt Group Supplementary Investment Agreement. The words practically burned.
I gripped the papers. My fingertips went white. Inside, I laughed, cold and bitter.
This agreement was a trap he'd dug well in advance. It demanded that the Pruitt Group inject three hundred million dollars into his shell company within seven days. Miss the deadline, and he'd seize control of the family's core holdings. Worse still, he'd listed me as a joint guarantor. One default, and the Pruitts and I would lose everything.
Miles had always been after the Pruitt fortune. He wasn't even bothering to hide it anymore.
"Dad finally agreed?" I arranged my face into eager delight, though behind my eyes there was nothing but frost. "You've been saying for months that cash flow was tight. What a relief."
Miles looked supremely pleased with himself, his tone dripping with condescension.
"Well, it helps having the Pruitt heiress on my side. Your father does have conditions, though. He wants both of us to sign, and there's a residential commitment addendum. Stella's pregnant. The master bedroom faces south, better for the baby. You'll need to move into the guest room."
I feigned shock. "That's our bedroom. We've slept there for seven years..."
He let out a cold laugh, his voice stripped of all pretense.
"My car just broke down, by the way. From now on, you can walk to pick up Chloe from school."
He watched the color shift in my face, then added with lazy menace, every syllable laced with ice:
"That stretch of road is crowded. Lots of traffic. She's still so small. If something were to happen to her, well, that would be unfortunate."
He shoved the papers toward me, impatient. "Sign, and the funds transfer immediately. You don't want Chloe to suffer, do you?"
He was using Chloe as leverage. He had no idea I already knew the truth: Chloe was never my biological daughter.
I lowered my eyes, arranging my features into a picture of reluctant anguish. "Fine. I'll sign. But I need to read through this carefully first."
"What's there to read? It's all been agreed on."
Miles kept checking his watch, visibly agitated. "Stella's waiting upstairs. I need to take her to her prenatal appointment after I sign."
I stood there, a dull blade sawing back and forth across my chest.
When I was pregnant, I had asked him once, carefully, timidly, to come with me to just one appointment. He'd frowned like I'd asked him to swallow glass, his face twisted with irritation, his voice thick with disgust.
"Prenatal checkups are a woman's thing. What would a grown man look like sitting in that waiting room? People would laugh."
All those freezing memories of sitting alone in examination rooms, clutching my own hands in my lap, crystallized now into the calm behind my eyes.
第5章
The more desperate he got, the calmer I became.
The last few pages of the document had already been quietly replaced with divorce terms and asset-freeze clauses. All I needed was for him to put pen to paper first.
I pretended to read carefully, asking about trivial details to stall for time.
Miles lost patience, just as I knew he would. He snatched the document out of my hands and signed without hesitation.
"Quit dragging your feet. What do you think I'm going to do, poison the ink?"
His signature slashed across the page in a careless scrawl. He didn't so much as glance at the clauses that followed before tossing the document back to me. "Your turn."
I picked up the pen. My grip was steady, my hand sure. I signed my name with the kind of composure that only years of swallowed rage could produce.
In that moment, every ounce of hatred I'd buried for seven years finally found its way out.
Miles Winfield, everything you owe me, I'm collecting with interest.
He gave a distracted nod and headed upstairs without sparing me a single look.
I dialed my lawyer the second he was gone. My voice could have frozen steel.
"The agreement is signed. Initiate divorce proceedings immediately. Freeze every account Miles Winfield has linked to Pruitt Group assets. Every dollar he's siphoned off stays right where it is. He doesn't walk away with a cent."
I'd barely hung up when Stella appeared in the study doorway, one hand bracing her lower back, her face arranged in the smug expression of someone who thought she'd already won.
"Martha, all signed? Guess you're not as stupid as I thought."
The venom surging behind my eyes found its target. I closed the distance in a single step and slapped her across the face with everything I had.
Stella staggered. Before she could recover, I seized her arm and forced her to the floor, driving my knee into her back to pin her there.
"Miles!" she shrieked. "Help me!"
Miles came barreling into the room, eyes wild with fury.
His foot slammed into my chest.
I lost my balance. My lower back cracked against the corner of the desk, and white-hot pain tore through my entire body.
He didn't even look at me. He crouched beside Stella and gathered her into his arms, his voice shaking. "Stella, are you okay? The baby, is the baby all right?"
Stella buried her face in his chest and sobbed, trembling with theatrical distress.
Miles lifted his gaze to me. His words dripped with poison.
"Martha, you psychotic bitch. She's pregnant, and you still put your hands on her?"
I braced myself against the floor, cold sweat beading across my skin as agony pulsed through my waist and stomach.
"Apologize to her. Now." His voice was a blade.
I bared my teeth in something that wasn't a smile and didn't say a word.
His face went ashen with rage. He stood, pulled out his phone, and dialed. "Get over here. Take her to a psychiatric facility. She needs to be treated for whatever's wrong with her head."
Bodyguards materialized within seconds.
I fought through the pain. While Miles bent over Stella, stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances, my fingers locked around my phone in a death grip.
Fingerprint unlock. I dialed the number I knew by heart.
One ring.
"Dad, Miles is trying to have me committed..."
My sister's voice burst through the speaker, urgent and fierce.
"I heard what Miles has been doing to you. I'm coming right now. I'm bringing you home."
The bodyguards pinned me to the cold floor.
I lifted my eyes and stared at Miles. His gaze was glued to Stella. His fingertips traced slow, reverent circles over her belly, as if he were cradling something priceless.
And me? I was just the inconvenient lunatic in the room.
"Miles, are you blind? Can you not see what she really is beneath all that fake sweetness? Seven years ago, the two of you conspired to swap my baby. Seven years you've been scheming together to destroy me. Did you really think I never figured it out?"
The color drained from his face. For one instant, raw panic flickered in his eyes before fury swallowed it whole.
"What the hell are you raving about? You've completely lost your mind!"
"I've lost my mind?" I pointed straight at Stella, every word ripped from somewhere deep and bleeding. "You two are the ones who drove me to this! Stella, do you have the guts to admit it? Admit that seven years ago you paid Jemima Finch to switch my baby. Admit you've been lacing my supplements with poison. Admit that every last bit of it was for the Pruitt fortune!"
Stella's face went chalk-white. She burrowed deeper into Miles's arms, forcing composure into her trembling voice. "Miles, she's having a breakdown. Listen to what she's saying. It's insane. I never did any of that. Never."
"Still lying!"
I lunged for her, desperate to drag the truth out, but Miles seized my wrist and squeezed until the bones ground together.
"Enough!"
He shoved me backward. I stumbled, and the back of my head cracked against the doorframe. A dull, throbbing pain bloomed across my skull.
He raised a hand toward the bodyguards. "Get her out of here. I don't want her dirtying Stella's sight."
第6章
The bodyguards were about to drag me away when hurried footsteps rang out from the doorway.
Alice Pruitt, my only sister, shoved the door open and rushed in.
The moment she saw me covered in blood, her eyes went red. She charged forward, pushed the bodyguards aside, and pulled me behind her. "Miles Winfield! You bastard! What did my sister ever do to you to deserve this?"
Alice was the youngest daughter of the Pruitt family. She had a fiery temper and loved me more than anyone.
When I'd severed ties with the family, she'd wired me money in secret, watching over me without a word.
Now, the moment she learned I was in trouble, she'd caught the first flight home from overseas.
She steadied me, her voice breaking. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm taking you home."
Stella's eyes flashed with something vicious when she spotted Alice, but in the blink of an eye she swapped it for a look of terror.
She grabbed Miles's arm, her whole body trembling violently. "Miles, she... is she here to hit me? I'm so scared. My baby..."
As she spoke, she deliberately stumbled a step toward Alice, as if she were about to be shoved.
Miles's eyes went bloodshot instantly. He didn't wait for Alice to explain, didn't listen to a single word. He roared, "Ungrateful little wretch! How dare you lay a hand on Stella!"
Before his voice even faded, Stella snatched a fruit knife from under the coffee table and plunged it straight at Alice.
The strike was fast and savage. The blade buried itself in Alice's chest, and blood sprayed out, spattering across my face.
"Alice!" My vision blurred red. I reached for her.
Her body crumpled into my arms. She looked down at the knife in her chest, then up at me. Her lips moved, but all that came out was a mouthful of blood.
Stella clutched the hem of Miles's shirt. Every trace of that viciousness had vanished, replaced by the trembling fragility of a woman on the verge of tears.
Her shoulders shook, her voice thin as thread. "Miles, I didn't mean to. She was going to push me. I was only defending myself..."
Miles lowered his gaze to her, and in his eyes I saw something I had never seen before: indulgence. Complete, unconditional indulgence.
He raised his hand and patted her back, his tone so gentle it burned. "It's all right. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you."
His arm tightened around Stella, walling her off from me, from Alice, from the spreading pool of blood. Clean. Untouched.
He didn't so much as glance at Alice. His voice was ice. "She brought it on herself."
I held Alice and felt her warmth draining away, degree by degree.
Her fingers clenched the hem of my shirt. Her eyes were full of defiance, full of longing.
I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor at Miles's feet, over and over, each impact a dull, wet thud. Blood seeped from my skin almost immediately.
"Miles, I'm begging you. Take Alice to the hospital. She's my only sister. I'm begging you! If you save her, I'll give you every share of Pruitt Group. I'll sign the divorce papers right now. I'll never bother you again. Please..."
My forehead was raw and bloody, my voice so hoarse it was barely audible.
But Miles just watched me with cold, empty eyes. Stella leaned into his ear and whispered, "Better if she dies. Saves us the medical bills. And if she does die, you can pull strings, find witnesses, call it self-defense. Don't let this blow back on you."
Something in Miles's gaze hardened into finality. Beneath that indifference lay undisguised consent.
He kicked my outstretched hand away. His voice held no trace of warmth. Not a single degree.
"Martha, this is what she deserved. She dared to raise a hand against Stella. She should have known the consequences. The hospital? I'm not wasting Stella's recovery time on some troublemaker."
He scooped Stella into his arms and headed upstairs without looking back. Over his shoulder, he called to the servants, "Drag these two lunatics out to the back courtyard. Don't dirty the living room."
"Miles Winfield, you can't do this!"
"Let go of me! I will destroy you both! I'll drag your names through the ground!"
Miles didn't flinch. He watched me being hauled away, eyes devoid of pity.
Stella stood at his side, the corner of her mouth curving into a victor's smile, sharp as a blade twisting into my chest.
The servants didn't dare disobey. They stepped forward to drag me and Alice away.
I clung to Alice with everything I had. I would not let go.
I could feel her breathing growing fainter, her eyes drifting shut. The last look she gave me was filled with nothing but heartache for me.
"Don't be sad, Martha..."
Those were the last words she ever said.
第7章
I held Alice's body, sitting on the cold floor.
The blood from her chest had soaked my clothes red, and her body was going cold, inch by inch.
Wind blew in from the back courtyard, bone-cutting and raw, but I couldn't feel any of it.
It was as if a piece of my heart had been carved out alive. The pain was so sharp I couldn't breathe.
Miles Winfield. Stella Fox.
You killed my child. Now you've killed my sister.
This blood debt—I will make you repay it a thousand times over.
I sat in the pool of blood. My tears had run dry. All that remained behind my eyes was a dead, hollow hatred.
That hatred coiled like a vine around my heart, and in the depths of that agony, it gave birth to something else: the resolve to drag them down with me if I had to.
Everything around me blurred. Only two things stayed sharp—Alice's cold body, and the indifferent silhouette of Miles walking away. They flickered before my eyes, over and over.
I knew then. The Martha Pruitt who had loved Miles Winfield with her whole heart was dead.
What survived was nothing but a vengeful ghost with a single purpose.
I raised my hand slowly, wiped the blood from my face, and forced words through clenched teeth, each one cold as ice:
"Follow the original plan. No—activate the final protocol."
"Every piece of evidence. Submit it all. Miles Winfield, Stella Fox, the Winfield Group. Leave nothing standing."
Before this, I'd held back for the sake of seven years together.
Even after I'd uncovered every last conspiracy, I'd still left them one final thread of mercy.
All I'd wanted was to take back what was mine and watch their reputations crumble. That would have been enough.
But Alice's death ground my last shred of softness to dust.
The mercy I'd spared them had become the very reason I would make them pay with everything they had.
From that day on, I changed.
No more endurance. No more pretending. The madness and the hatred in my eyes were beyond hiding now.
I stayed at the Pruitt estate. I kept vigil at Alice's grave. I gathered every last piece of evidence, and I waited for the final reckoning with Miles and Stella.
The funeral dirge hadn't even ended when a court summons was thrust into my hands, the paper blindingly white.
I pinched the thin sheet between my fingers until my knuckles went pale. But my lips curved slowly into a smile—bleak and razor-edged.
Fine.
Old debts and new. We'd settle them all at once.
Miles had sued me on charges of embezzlement and assault. He'd flipped the entire story, accusing me of orchestrating Alice's death, claiming I'd planned the whole thing.
The day the trial opened, every seat in the courtroom was taken.
Miles and Stella sat at the plaintiff's table, impeccably dressed, their expressions dripping with arrogance.
Chloe sat beside Stella, her small hand clasped in the woman's grip. She looked timid, but her eyes held nothing for me but distance.
Their attorney spoke first, piling every charge onto my shoulders, each sentence more vicious than the last:
"The defendant, Martha Pruitt, harboring resentment over her failed marriage, illegally transferred Pruitt Group assets. Consumed by jealousy toward the plaintiff Stella Fox, she committed deliberate assault, and went so far as to murder her own sister and frame others. Her conduct is egregious. We request the harshest penalty."
Right on cue, Stella raised a hand to dab at her tears. Her voice came out soft and wounded:
"Your Honor, Miles and I are truly in love. But Martha could never accept me. She didn't just hit me—she tried to kill me. That knife wound was self-defense. She's capable of hurting her own sister. What wouldn't she do?"
As she spoke, she gave Chloe's hand a gentle squeeze.
Chloe lifted her small face on command, her high, clear voice ringing through the courtroom:
"Your Honor, she's a bad mommy. She was mean to Aunt Stella and she always yelled at me. She's a bad person!"
The child's voice was innocent, but every word pierced like a needle.
Miles picked up seamlessly, his tone frigid:
"Martha Pruitt is mentally unstable. She showed signs of psychological deterioration throughout our marriage. She can't even care for a child properly. The Pruitt Group would be destroyed in her hands. I'm requesting the court grant me interim management authority."
第8章
They played off each other perfectly, even using Chloe as a prop, casting themselves as the victims.
And me? I became the unforgivable monster.
My lawyer fought tooth and nail, presenting evidence piece by piece, but the other side dismantled every argument. They'd bought off witnesses, fabricated proof, and sewn every last stitch into a seamless lie.
The judge looked at me, her voice grave. "Defendant Martha Pruitt, are the plaintiff's claims true? Do you have any objections?"
I lifted my gaze toward the plaintiff's bench.
A cold smile curved my lips. I didn't answer. I just stared at them.
Stella squirmed under my gaze and shrank behind Miles, whispering, "Your Honor, look at her. That look on her face proves she's guilty!"
Miles frowned. "Your Honor, she has nothing to say because the facts speak for themselves!"
That was when the courtroom doors swung open.
A clear, bright child's voice shattered the silence. "That's not true! She's lying!"
Every head turned toward the entrance.
A little girl walked in, her hand clasped in a middle-aged man's.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Her face bore a startling resemblance to mine, like a mirror reflecting me as a child. The man beside her looked familiar too, but my mind spun and couldn't place him.
Miles's expression changed the instant he heard her voice. Stella went rigid, a flash of panic darting through her eyes.
"Who are you? Who let you in here?" Miles barked, his voice sharp enough to cut, trying to mask the fear bleeding through.
The little girl pulled free of the man's hand and walked to the center of the courtroom. She looked up at the judge.
"Ma'am, my name is Sylvia Pruitt. I'm here to testify. They're lying!"
"You're making things up!" Stella screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "She's a child! Who's going to believe a word she says?"
"My words count," the little girl said. "And so does this."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small USB drive, holding it up to the judge.
"On here, there are recordings of you talking with the bad man, proof that you bribed a nurse to swap the babies, and a recording of you putting drugs in my mom's medicine. All of it is real!"
A bailiff took the drive and played it for the court.
The first thing that appeared was a high-definition video. On screen, two figures held each other close.
"Once I get my hands on all the Pruitt assets, I'll divorce Martha immediately. Leave her with nothing."
"Mm. It was always supposed to be ours."
Then came the transfer records, the conversations about swapping the babies, the audio of the poisoning, the conspiracy to strip the Pruitt empire, the plot to kill Alice. And then, in unflinching clarity, footage of Stella driving a blade into Alice's chest.
Every piece of evidence detonated like a bomb in that courtroom.
The proof was overwhelming. Irrefutable. Absolute.
I stared at it all, then at the little girl whose eyes looked so much like mine, and my vision blurred.
Seven years.
I had waited seven years for her.
And she was finally here.
The little girl turned around. She looked at me, then walked toward me, one small step at a time.
She tilted her face up, tears pooling in her eyes but refusing to fall. Her voice was soft and steady, ringing through the silent courtroom with perfect clarity.
"Mom."