After the Divorce, I Became the Billionaire's Lost Daughter

　　Trudy had always known about Zachary's habit. He liked to organize anything important into a single folder, then lock it behind a password. 　　The next day, while Zachary was at the office, she slipped into his study. 　　She knew his computer password by heart. It was the pinyin of her surname plus her birthday. 　　But when she hit enter, the screen flashed: Incorrect password. 　　Her heart stuttered. She typed in Zachary's birthday instead. Incorrect password. 　　She typed in Serena's birthday. The computer unlocked. 　　Zachary had once promised that every password he ever set would have something to do with her. 　　Now his computer password was Serena. 　　She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat and began searching through the files. 　　She found it. A folder labeled Private Photos. 　　Her fingers trembled over the keyboard. She entered Serena's birthday, and the folder opened. 　　Inside were videos of her and Zachary together, intimate, filmed in every corner of their life. 　　His appetite had always been insatiable. Five years of marriage, and he was constantly pulling her into one place after another. 　　The living room. The kitchen. The bathroom. The car. Even a shadowed alcove in some alley. 　　She had believed he wanted her so desperately because he loved her. So she endured the discomfort, every single time, and gave him what he asked for. 　　But he was planning to play these videos at the wedding. All of it, just to keep Serena from getting upset. 　　Her hand dragged the mouse across the screen, slow and stiff, and she deleted every last file. Her rigid body sagged, collapsing inward like something had finally given way. 　　She closed her eyes and let the tears slide down her face. 　　She was about to shut down the computer and leave when the study door slammed open. 　　Zachary spotted her. His brow furrowed. "What are you doing in here?" 　　Serena rushed past him to the computer. One glance at the screen and her expression twisted. "The jewelry designs for Fox Group are gone." 　　She rounded on Trudy. "Miss Wren, our entire team spent a month on that proposal. Why would you delete it?" 　　"I didn't!" Trudy shot back on instinct. "There were no design files on the computer when I opened it." 　　Serena let out a cold laugh. "Nobody else has been in this study. If it wasn't you, then who?" 　　The last trace of patience drained from Zachary's face. 　　"Serena is the daughter of the richest man in the country. You think she'd stoop to framing you?" 　　"Since she joined the Simmons Group, she's done nothing but give everything she has. She personally asked her father to secure this partnership, just to help us break into the high-end jewelry market." 　　"And now, because of you, it's all ruined." 　　He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Someone lock my wife in the basement. She can reflect on what she's done." 　　Trudy's gaze snapped up, disbelief flooding her face. Her voice came out raw. "Zachary, you know I'm claustrophobic." 　　Five years ago, after the car accident, she had been trapped inside the wreckage for three hours. She'd suffered from severe claustrophobia ever since. 　　Serena suddenly placed her hand over Zachary's. 　　"Let it go. Miss Wren hasn't worked in jewelry design for years. Maybe she deleted the files by accident." 　　"I'll just call Daddy and ask him to push the deadline back a few days. It'll be fine." 　　At that, Zachary visibly relaxed. 　　He clasped Serena's hand tightly. "Thank God for you. I don't know what I'd do without you." 　　Then he turned to Trudy, his voice flat and hard. 　　"Thank her. Now. Unless you'd rather spend the night in the basement." 　　Trudy's body went rigid. Then a sharp, hollow laugh escaped her. 　　"Thank her for what?" 　　"For stealing my husband? For setting me up?" 　　"Or should I thank her for getting pregnant with my husband's child?" 　　Zachary's expression shifted. "When did you find out?" 　　"Since you already know, I won't bother hiding it. Serena is the daughter of the wealthiest man in the country, and she's carrying my child. The position of Mrs. Simmons belongs to her." 　　"Sign the divorce papers. Now." 　　He had braced himself for a scene. Screaming. Begging. A refusal to sign. 　　But Trudy took the papers calmly, picked up the pen, and signed her name without a word.

　　Trudy's expression was perfectly calm as she signed. Zachary's brow furrowed. Something about that composure unsettled him, left a sour taste he couldn't name. 　　Serena took the signed divorce papers, a flash of triumph in her eyes. 　　She looped her arm through Zachary's, her voice honeyed and soft. 　　"Zach, since the divorce is finalized, why not have Miss Wren move out tonight?" 　　Zachary was about to refuse, but then he looked up and saw Trudy's face, utterly indifferent, as if none of this mattered to her at all. A sudden, nameless anger flared in his chest. 　　"Fine," he said coldly. "Handle it however you want." 　　Serena's lips curled. She immediately directed the servants to pack up all of Trudy's belongings. 　　Trudy felt nothing. She didn't want to stay in this house a second longer. 　　A clean exit was exactly what she wanted. 　　But when the servants finished packing her luggage, they didn't bring it to her. They hauled everything into the storage room instead. 　　Serena gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Oh my, what are you all doing?" 　　"This is Miss Wren's luggage! How could you toss it in with all that junk?" 　　She turned to Trudy with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. I had them do a deep clean of the house, and some trash got piled in there temporarily. They must have assumed your things were part of it..." 　　"Miss Wren, would you mind grabbing your bags yourself?" 　　Trudy's jaw tightened. She had always dreaded places like storage rooms, dark and cramped. 　　But there were things she had to take with her. 　　Her IDs. And the protective charm Matron Grace had given her. 　　She walked to the storage room doorway and spotted her documents and clothes tossed in the far corner. 　　She crouched down, gathered her IDs, and was about to leave. 　　The door slammed shut behind her. 　　The light vanished. She spun toward the window, but wooden boards had been nailed across it. Only thin slivers of light bled through the cracks. 　　Her heart hammered. Her breathing went shallow and fast. 　　She threw herself at the door, pounding on it with both fists. "Let me out!" 　　She beat the wood until her hands were swollen and raw. No one answered. 　　The force of her pounding shook her phone loose from her pocket. 　　She grabbed it like a lifeline and clutched it with both hands. 　　She called the only emergency contact saved in her phone. 　　The line rang for a full minute before anyone picked up. 　　Her voice broke, echoing off the walls of the storage room. "Zachary, help me..." 　　"I'm locked in the storage room. My stomach hurts so bad..." 　　She whimpered, her back sliding down the door until she hit the floor. A dragging pain tore through her lower abdomen, and cold sweat soaked through her clothes. 　　What answered her was a breathy, feminine moan. 　　"Zach... I'm pregnant. Be gentle." 　　Then the slick, unmistakable sounds of bodies together. 　　The line went dead. 　　The phone slipped from her fingers and cracked against the floor. Every trace of color drained from Trudy's face. 　　She pulled the corner of her mouth into something that might have been a smile. A bitter, broken thing. Laughing at her own stupidity. 　　She had actually hoped Zachary would come save her. She had actually still held on to a shred of hope for that man. 　　She reached down and picked the phone back up, tried to call her father. The screen lit for two seconds and went black. Dead. 　　She watched the last pinpoint of light on the screen dissolve into darkness, and the anguish and panic inside her clawed at each other, shredding her from the inside. 　　She lost control. She beat the door with her fists, raked her nails down the wood, scratching and tearing until her fingers screamed. Toward the end, she wanted nothing more than to crack her skull against it and make everything stop. 　　Then the pain in her abdomen surged, sharper, worse, and the metallic smell of blood hit her nose. 　　She forced herself still. She choked down the terror, made herself sit quietly, terrified of disturbing the tiny life inside her. 　　Trudy had once believed her child would be born into a world where both its parents were waiting with open arms. 　　Reality had struck her across the face. 　　She knew this baby had come at the worst possible time. If Zachary found out, he wouldn't welcome it. 　　But she wanted to keep this child. 　　Not because of Zachary. 　　Trudy had grown up in an orphanage. The one thing she had dreamed of her entire life was having someone connected to her by blood. 　　She had found her birth parents now, it was true. 　　But this small life growing inside her was something she could not let go of either. 　　She sat slumped on the floor with her eyes closed, the terror of the dark, suffocating space and the dragging pain in her abdomen twisting together, tormenting her without a single moment's reprieve. 　　Then a sound outside the door. 　　"Who's in there?" 　　"Trudy? Is that you?" 　　Light sparked in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but her voice came out wrecked, barely recognizable. 　　"It's me. Get me... out." 　　Outside, Zachary's brow creased. His hand was reaching for the door handle when Serena called out to him. 　　"Zach, Miss Wren should've left with her things ages ago. It's probably just a stray cat in there." 　　She buried her face against his chest. "Zach, I'm allergic to cat hair. Let's go, please. There's a window in there. The cat will find its way out." 　　A cat's meow drifted from behind the door. 　　He relaxed. 　　He wrapped his arm around Serena and walked away. "I'll have the servants clear out the strays tomorrow." 　　Trudy bit down on her lip so hard it bled. Tears fell, hitting the floor one after another. 　　She screamed with everything she had. "Zachary, it's me!" 　　"It's not a cat. Help me. Save our baby..." 　　Zachary stopped. "That does sound like Trudy. I can hear her voice." 　　Something vicious flickered behind Serena's eyes. She softened her tone. "Zach, even if it is Miss Wren, one night in the storage room won't hurt her." 　　"I have a surprise for you tonight. Don't you want to see it?" 　　Zachary's throat bobbed. "Fine." 　　The last spark of hope in Trudy's eyes went out. She listened, helpless, as Zachary carried Serena farther and farther away. 　　Then everything blurred. Consciousness slipped, and the darkness swallowed her whole.

　　When her eyes opened again, the sharp bite of antiseptic flooded her nostrils. 　　Trudy turned her head instinctively, scanning her surroundings. 　　Zachary's face filled her vision, so haggard it was barely recognizable. 　　His voice came out dry and cracked, like a man holding back pain. "Trudy, you're pregnant." 　　"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Our baby... we almost lost it." 　　Trudy lowered her gaze, and the realization that her child was still alive sent a fierce wave of joy crashing through her. 　　But her expression betrayed nothing. Her voice was ice. "I'm getting rid of it." 　　Zachary stared at her in disbelief. "Why?" 　　"We're divorced. Why would I carry your child?" 　　"You— how can you be so heartless?" Zachary sputtered, his voice beginning to shake. 　　"This is the baby we waited five years for! And you want to just toss it away like it's nothing? Trudy, you have no heart!" 　　"I have no heart?" 　　Trudy let out a quiet, scornful laugh, as if she'd just heard the most absurd joke. 　　"Why do you think I never got pregnant all those years? You really don't know the reason?" 　　Zachary's chest tightened under her accusing stare. 　　His eyes darted away, and he changed the subject without thinking. 　　"Trudy, you must be hungry." 　　"I made you your favorite clam chowder myself." 　　Trudy looked at the steaming bowl in his hands, and for the first time, the sheer absurdity of it all hit her full force. 　　She was allergic to shellfish. 　　Five years of marriage, and Zachary didn't even remember that. 　　But all she said was, "I'm not hungry." 　　Watching her refuse to budge, a flash of irritation crossed Zachary's eyes. 　　He clenched his jaw and pulled a document from the bedside table. 　　"If you're not hungry, then sign this first." 　　Trudy's gaze swept across the page and landed on the bold heading: Jewelry Design Copyright Transfer Agreement. 　　Her stomach dropped. "What is this supposed to mean?" 　　Zachary's voice was even, matter-of-fact. "Three months ago, you anonymously submitted a jewelry design to the Greenleaf Competition and won first place. I had the entry registered under Serena's name." 　　He pushed the agreement into her lap. 　　"You're just a housewife with a plagiarism scandal hanging over your head. Putting a first-place award on you would only make people question the integrity of the competition." 　　"But Serena is different. She's the head of the company's design department and the daughter of the nation's wealthiest man. First place belongs with her. Still, just to be safe, sign this so there won't be any legal complications for Serena down the road." 　　Trudy's eyes burned red, her whole body trembling. "That's my work. What right do you have to hand it over to Serena?" 　　"I won't sign this." 　　She raised her hand and pointed at the door. "Get out. Get out!" 　　Zachary looked at her, and the cold in his eyes could have frozen a person solid. "You can refuse." 　　"But you won't like the consequences." 　　"I'm sure you don't want to stand by and watch Matron Grace die." 　　Trudy's teeth ground together. "You animal." 　　Matron Grace shared no blood with her, but in Trudy's heart, the woman meant more than any birth mother ever could. 　　That was why Trudy had dragged Zachary to meet her when they first got married. 　　He'd promised then that he would treat Matron Grace like his own mother. 　　Five years later, he was using the old woman's life as a bargaining chip. 　　Trudy stared at him, unblinking, until a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. 　　"Fine. I'll sign." 　　Her hand shook as she wrote her name, each stroke deliberate. 　　Zachary glanced at the signed agreement, and satisfaction finally surfaced in his eyes. 　　"Get some rest." 　　"The full product line for this jewelry collection launches today. Pre-sale numbers are strong, so in three days there'll be a celebration gala honoring the original designer, Serena." 　　"Though you did contribute to the design, so you're welcome to attend." 　　With that, he turned and left. 　　Trudy pulled the phone she'd hidden beneath the blanket and pressed stop on the recording. 　　She cradled her stomach, and the tears came freely. 　　She had told Zachary she wanted to terminate the pregnancy on purpose. If she hadn't, he would have forced her to end it anyway, all for Serena's sake. 　　The only way to protect her child was to act like she didn't care, to make Zachary lower his guard. Only then did she stand a chance of keeping this baby alive. 　　She bit down hard, jaw locked, and swore that Zachary Simmons would pay for every last thing he'd done.

　　Three days later, Trudy was discharged from the hospital. 　　She barely made it to the front entrance before a bodyguard intercepted her, there to escort her to a gala. 　　She didn't want to get in the car. The bodyguard hauled her in anyway. 　　Inside the banquet hall, guests raised their glasses to Serena. 　　"Director Mason Fox is truly in a league of her own. She enters one little competition and the piece is already extraordinary. The whole collection sold out in three days." 　　"Director Mason and Mr. Simmons look so perfect together. Only a woman of her caliber deserves to stand beside him. I don't know how that plagiarist had the nerve to cling on for so long." 　　"And she actually showed up to the celebration? Disgusting." 　　Trudy swirled the wine in her glass, unmoved. 　　She'd heard every variation of this for five years. It bored her now. 　　She slipped outside the banquet hall. The cool night air brushed against her skin, and she closed her eyes, savoring the brief silence. 　　"Trudy. I'm surprised that little bastard in your belly was tough enough to survive." 　　"All that trouble, and it still didn't die." 　　Serena's venomous voice cut through the quiet. 　　Trudy frowned, stepping back. "What do you want?" 　　"If you know what's good for you, stay away from Zachary." 　　"You're an orphan. You never had the right to stand beside him. His wife can only be me." 　　Trudy let out a dry laugh. "So because you're the billionaire's daughter, that makes you better than everyone else?" 　　Serena lifted her chin. "Obviously." 　　She tapped the sapphire necklace at her throat. Under the night sky, the stones blazed with light. 　　"See this?" 　　"Every gem on this necklace is worth tens of millions. You're an orphan. If it weren't for Zachary Simmons, you'd never have laid eyes on something like this in your life." 　　Trudy had once asked her father whether there was anyone named Serena in the Mason family. 　　Her father said no such person existed. 　　There was, however, a servant's daughter living in the Masons' estate. Her name was Serena. 　　The thought curled Trudy's lips into a cold half-smile. She looked Serena up and down. "Miss Mason, stolen things always have to be returned." 　　"When the day comes that everyone finds out you're a fraud, I wonder if you'll be any better off than an orphan like me." 　　Panic flashed through Serena's eyes. She forced herself steady. 　　"What's that supposed to mean?" 　　"If you dare run your mouth, I will make you regret it." 　　Trudy just smiled and said nothing. 　　On the wedding day, the truth would come out for the whole world to see. 　　Let Serena have her few days of glory. After all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall. 　　Serena stared at her, the unease in her chest growing wilder. 　　Her eyes darted. Then she pulled something from inside her dress and dangled it in front of Trudy's face with a smug grin. 　　"Miss Wren, I believe this belongs to you?" 　　Trudy's heart seized. 　　It was the protective charm Matron Grace had given her. Every child at the orphanage received one, and every child treasured it. Trudy was no different. 　　Because it was one of the few pieces of genuine love she'd ever received. 　　Looking at it felt like having Matron Grace right beside her. 　　"That's mine. Give it back." 　　A cruel smile spread across Serena's face. She glanced toward the pool nearby. 　　She raised her arm and hurled the charm into the water. 　　"You want it? Go fish it out yourself." 　　Trudy turned and dove in without a second thought. 　　She was grateful, in that moment, that she knew how to swim. But the instant her fingers closed around the charm and she turned back toward the edge, a hand shot up from below and locked around her right ankle, dragging her down. 　　"Help!" 　　Trudy screamed. 　　Serena watched her thrash, arms folded, the malice in her eyes barely concealed. 　　Zachary saw it happen. His pupils contracted. 　　"Trudy!" 　　He lurched forward, ready to jump in after her. 　　Then Serena let out a sharp cry of pain. 　　"Ah! Zachary, my stomach hurts so bad..." 　　"The baby. What if something's wrong with the baby?" 　　Zachary's expression changed instantly. He spun around and pulled Serena into his arms. 　　"Don't worry. I'm taking you to the hospital right now." 　　"The baby will be fine." 　　Trudy watched their silhouettes shrink into the distance, and despair swallowed her inch by inch. 　　She was carrying his child too. 　　For one fleeting moment, she wanted to stop fighting. Just let the water take her. 　　But she had finally found her real parents. And inside her was the baby she'd longed for. 　　She didn't want to die. 　　She refused to. 　　Fury and will surged through her. She kicked harder, legs thrashing beneath the surface, and the grip on her ankle broke loose. 　　Her right foot free, Trudy clawed toward the edge with everything she had. 　　Only when she hauled herself onto the tiles did she let herself breathe. 　　But the figure below surfaced after her. A man, climbing out of the pool, closing the distance step by step. 　　"Miss Wren, I admire your willpower." 　　"Too bad you crossed the wrong person. So tonight, you die here." 　　His hand was inches from her throat when someone burst from the shadows and drove a savage kick into his ribs. 　　The man flew backward into the pool. 　　"Who the hell are you?" 　　He clawed at the edge, trying to pull himself up, but a hand shoved him back under. 　　He struggled until his strength gave out and his body sank beneath the surface. 　　"Miss Wren, I was sent by your fiancé to protect you. You can call me Assistant Fox." 　　Trudy froze. Since when did she have a fiancé? 　　But before she could ask, her vision went black and she collapsed.

　　Zachary sat at the edge of the hospital bed, staring blankly at the woman lying before him, her face drained of color. 　　The doctor had just told him the baby was gone. 　　It was the outcome he'd wanted. So why did something twist, sharp and sudden, behind his ribs? 　　Just then, Trudy's phone lit up with a notification. 　　Trudy, everything you asked for has been compiled and sent over. Also, in two days we'll meet at the airport... 　　The rest of the message was cut off. 　　Zachary's pulse spiked. He reached for the phone on instinct, but he didn't know her passcode. 　　Then he remembered. Trudy had once told him her password was the date they first met. 　　His fingers tapped the screen. The numbers went in. Password incorrect. 　　He frowned and tried several other dates. 　　Every single one failed. 　　Trudy opened her eyes. Her hand drifted to her stomach. It was flat. Empty. 　　"The baby..." 　　"Where's my baby?" 　　Zachary's knuckles were white around the phone. His voice came out low and rough. "Gone." 　　Trudy closed her eyes. The pain in her chest was so absolute she couldn't breathe. 　　If someone had pulled her out of that pool in time, the baby might have survived. 　　But Zachary had chosen. Between her and Serena, he'd chosen to let his child die. 　　She'd given up on this man long ago. She knew that. But the baby was different. The thought of what he'd cost her carved through every wall she'd built. 　　She closed her eyes and let the tears run. 　　"Get out." 　　Zachary's face went pale. "Trudy, Serena is the billionaire's daughter. If anything happened to her, her father would crush the Simmons family. We wouldn't stand a chance." 　　"I sent someone to save you. They just... got there too late." 　　Trudy didn't want to hear it. 　　She opened her eyes and fixed them on Zachary. Nothing but hatred. 　　"I said get out!" 　　"I don't want to look at you!" 　　Zachary's face cycled between white and gray. He looked at her, at the bloodless skin and hollow fury, and guilt crawled through him like something alive. 　　"Fine. Get some rest. I'll come check on you later." 　　He set down the phone, turned, and left like he was fleeing a fire. 　　Trudy pressed both hands over her face. The sound that came out of her was ragged, suffocated, barely human. 　　A long time passed before the shaking stopped. 　　She picked up her phone and opened the files her father had sent. 　　The truth about the car accident. Evidence of the plagiarism frame-up. And every filthy thing Serena had done over the years. 　　She forwarded everything to one person. 　　In two days, make sure all of this appears at Zachary's wedding. 　　Done. 　　When it was finished, Trudy closed her eyes, wanting just a moment of rest. 　　Her phone rang. Urgent, shrill. 　　"Trudy, it's bad. Matron Grace just took a turn for the worse. She needs a blood transfusion. You have the same rare blood type. You're the only match." 　　Trudy ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand. "I'm coming." 　　She rushed out of the room, hailed a cab, and raced to Matron Grace's hospital. 　　She found a nurse and told her she was there to donate blood for the patient. 　　The nurse took one look at her ashen face, and concern flickered in her eyes. 　　"Ma'am, you look quite weak. Are you sure you want to do this?" 　　Trudy nodded without hesitation. "However much she needs. Take it." 　　When the thick needle pierced her arm, her whole body shuddered. 　　But she thought of Matron Grace getting better, bit down on her lip, and held still through the pain. 　　Bag after bag was drawn. Trudy's vision blurred and her thoughts turned to static. 　　She forced herself to stay conscious. "The patient. How is she doing after the transfusion?" 　　The nurse's voice was quiet. "Much better. One more bag and her condition should stabilize." 　　Trudy exhaled. When the nurse pulled the needle out, she didn't stay seated. 　　She pushed herself up, wanting to see Matron Grace with her own eyes. 　　She made it two steps before the world went black and her knees hit the floor. 　　When she came to, she grabbed her phone and called her friend immediately. 　　"How's Matron Grace? Is she doing better?" 　　The other end went silent. One beat. Two. Then Trudy heard it: someone crying, muffled and low. 　　Her heart seized. 　　"Is she still not stable? I can give more blood. I'll tell the nurse to come draw it right now." 　　"Stop pretending!" 　　The voice on the other end was shaking with fury. 　　"Matron Grace is dead. Because you refused to give blood."

　　The world detonated. 　　A roar filled Trudy's skull and the phone nearly slipped from her fingers. 　　Her voice came out broken, barely recognizable. "No. That's not possible." 　　"You're lying. I know you are. I was there, I..." 　　A cold laugh cut her off. "Enough!" 　　"You're Mrs. Simmons now, too good for the rest of us orphanage kids. Fine. But I never thought you could be this heartless. You sat there and let Matron Grace die." 　　"Don't contact us again. You go be Mrs. Simmons. We'll take care of the orphanage ourselves." 　　The line went dead. 　　Trudy didn't understand. 　　She had given blood. The nurse had said Matron Grace was improving. 　　So why was Matron Grace dead? 　　She left the hospital in a fog. 　　By the time her mind surfaced, she was standing outside the Simmons family home. 　　She turned to leave, then remembered her documents were still in the storage room inside. 　　She pushed the door open. 　　And walked straight into Serena, who was on her way out. 　　Serena froze for a split second when she saw Trudy. Then her eyes lit with something vicious and pleased. 　　"Well, if it isn't Miss Wren. That old hag finally croaked. One less burden dragging you down. So why the long face?" 　　Every muscle in Trudy's body locked. She clenched her teeth. "What did you do?" 　　Serena covered her mouth and giggled. 　　"Oh, nothing much. I just flushed all your little blood bags down the toilet. Who knew the old bat was so fragile? Died just like that." 　　The blood in Trudy's veins turned to ice. 　　So that was why. 　　That was why she'd given everything she had and Matron Grace still hadn't gotten better. 　　Serena. 　　Serena had killed Matron Grace. 　　Trudy shook with a rage so consuming she wanted to lunge forward and tear the woman apart. 　　She bit the inside of her lip until she tasted copper and forced herself still. 　　One more day. In one more day, Serena would lose everything. 　　But Serena wasn't done. 　　"I have to say, I'm impressed you had that much blood in you." 　　"Flushing it all was honestly exhausting." 　　Trudy's hand moved before her mind caught up. She slapped Serena across the face so hard the crack echoed off the walls. 　　"Trudy, what are you doing!" 　　Zachary appeared in the doorway. His eyes landed on the red handprint blazing across Serena's cheek, and he strode forward, planting himself between them. 　　"I was going to surprise you today. I was going to propose." 　　"And instead you pull this? You actually put your hands on Serena?" 　　Serena cupped her cheek, eyes glistening. "I don't know what got into her. She just rushed at me out of nowhere." 　　"Zach, don't be angry. I'm sure she didn't mean it. Maybe she's just having a bad day." 　　Zachary scoffed. "A bad day doesn't give you the right to hit people." 　　"Raised in an orphanage, and it shows. No manners whatsoever. That Matron Grace of yours was probably the same. Otherwise, how did she raise someone so savage?" 　　Crack. 　　Before the last word left his mouth, Trudy's palm connected with his face. 　　The sting was sharp enough to stun him into silence. 　　"Trudy!" 　　Serena grabbed his arm. 　　"Zach, let it go." 　　"The proposal is more important." 　　She blinked at him, a slow, deliberate flutter. 　　Zachary inhaled through his teeth and swallowed his rage. 　　"This little tantrum of yours is just about the divorce papers, isn't it? That's what's got you so worked up." 　　"I said those things in the heat of the moment. I've been planning the wedding all week to surprise you." 　　He lifted the roses in his hand and dropped to one knee. 　　"Trudy, I know you've always dreamed of having a wedding of your own. So, will you marry me again?" 　　Trudy looked down at the man kneeling before her, at the carefully rehearsed tenderness in his eyes, and felt nothing but contempt. 　　And those roses. 　　She had dressed in white today to mourn Matron Grace. 　　The garish red blooms against her mourning clothes made her stomach turn. 　　But she smiled. She even let her eyes glisten with tears. 　　"Yes." 　　Zachary exhaled, visibly relieved. He stood and produced a wedding gown. 　　"I had this custom-made just for you. The venue is all designed too. You're going to love it." 　　He pressed the gown into her arms, his voice earnest. "Tomorrow morning. Be there. Promise me?" 　　If she hadn't already known the truth, she might have actually fallen for this performance. 　　She kept smiling. "I'll be right on time." 　　Her fingers traced the fabric. Nothing stirred inside her. 　　Because she knew: Zachary had indeed commissioned a gown. A couture piece. What he'd just handed her was the complimentary bridesmaid's dress that came with it. 　　"Zach, I have a surprise for you too." 　　She looked at him, and as the thought of what she'd prepared crossed her mind, her smile turned genuine. 　　Something about that smile caught Zachary off guard. 　　He couldn't remember the last time Trudy had smiled like that. 　　He leaned in without thinking, wanting to kiss her cheek. 　　Trudy tilted her head away, still smiling. "Serena's watching." 　　Zachary blinked, thrown. He hadn't expected her to dodge. 　　But he glanced at Serena, recovered, and stepped back half a pace as if nothing had happened. 　　"Right. Serena and I have some things to take care of. Get some rest tonight, and don't forget to be there tomorrow." 　　After a night's rest, Trudy gathered her documents early the next morning and headed for the airport. 　　On the way, she pulled out her phone. 　　She'd been added to a group chat at some point without noticing. 　　Zach, the private video is all set, right? I can't wait to see the look on Trudy's face when it plays. 　　You think she'll break down on the spot? 　　Zachary: Serena's handling the video. We just stick to the plan. 　　Wait. Is there an extra person in this group? 　　Trudy screenshotted the entire conversation. Then she watched Zachary fire off a string of exclamation marks. 　　Trudy's in the group! Who added her?! 　　The next second, she was kicked out. 　　Five minutes passed before Zachary cautiously sent her a message. 　　Trudy, did you happen to see anything weird just now? 　　She snapped a quick photo out the car window. The hotel where Zachary's wedding was being held happened to be visible in the distance. 　　No. I'm almost at the hotel. 　　Zachary looked up instinctively, but all he saw was the endless stream of traffic outside. 　　A hollow feeling settled in his chest, sudden and unexplained, like something important was about to slip through his fingers. 　　Trudy watched the scenery slide past her window, perfectly calm. 　　Zachary. Serena. I hope you're ready for my gift.