Chapter 2

Elena POV:

Dominic laughed.

It was the same condescending laugh he used when I suggested redecorating the guest room, or when I asked to attend his company dinners, or when I existed too loudly in his presence.

"Sixteen million?" He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Elena, sweetheart, I know you didn't finish college, but let's not embarrass ourselves with made-up numbers."

Serena giggled behind him, still touching the pendant.

I said nothing. I was done explaining myself to people who never listened.

My phone buzzed. A text from Mr. Huang, my grandfather's attorney: Zheng Protocol activated. Asset freeze initiated on Ashford Holdings. Board notified. You have 72 hours before it goes public.

Seventy-two hours. That was how long Dominic had before his entire world collapsed, and he wouldn't even see it coming.

"I'm going out," I said, grabbing my coat from the closet — not the designer ones Dominic bought for Serena, but my old wool peacoat. The one I'd brought from my "fake" life.

"At this hour?" Dominic raised an eyebrow. "The buses stop running at midnight. Or are you walking?"

"She could use the exercise," Serena muttered.

I didn't respond. I walked out of the penthouse, rode the elevator down forty-two floors, and stepped into the cold Manhattan night.

The doorman, Gerald, looked surprised. "Mrs. Ashford? Should I call your car?"

"I don't have a car, Gerald," I said. That was the lie. In truth, there was a black Maybach registered under the Zheng Trust parked in a private garage three blocks away. I'd never used it. Not once in two years.

Tonight was different.

I walked the three blocks. The garage attendant recognized the access code I punched in and didn't ask questions. The Maybach hummed to life like a sleeping predator.

I drove to the Zheng Tower in Midtown — a fifty-eight-story glass monolith that most people assumed was owned by a faceless overseas conglomerate. The lobby was empty except for the night security.

"Miss Zheng," the guard said, standing at attention. "Mr. Huang is waiting on fifty-seven."

I rode up alone. The elevator was silent, but my heartbeat wasn't. It was drumming a war rhythm.

Mr. Huang was standing behind a mahogany desk the size of a small car. He was seventy-three, silver-haired, and had the calm demeanor of a man who had ended corporations before breakfast.

"Elena." He bowed his head slightly. "Your grandfather would be proud. And furious."

"Show me the damage report," I said, sitting down.

He slid a tablet across the desk. On it was the complete financial anatomy of Ashford Holdings.

It was worse than I thought — and I had expected it to be bad.

Dominic's company was hemorrhaging money. The real estate projects were over-leveraged. The flagship development — the Ashford Towers in Brooklyn — was six months behind schedule and eighty million over budget. The only thing keeping the company alive was a credit line.

A credit line guaranteed by Zheng Financial.

My grandfather had quietly co-signed Dominic's loans as a wedding gift. Dominic didn't know the guarantor was his wife's family. He thought it was an anonymous overseas investor.

"If we pull the guarantee," Mr. Huang said, "every bank calls in their loans simultaneously. Ashford Holdings becomes insolvent within a week."

"Do it," I said.

Mr. Huang studied me. "Elena. This will not just hurt Dominic. It will hurt his employees. His partners. The families who bought units in his developments."

I closed my eyes. I thought of my mother's necklace on Serena's chest. I thought of being called "the housekeeper." I thought of two years of sleeping in the guest room while my husband slept with another woman in the bed I was supposed to share.

"Protect the employees," I said. "Offer them positions in Zheng subsidiaries. Buy out the homeowners' contracts at market value. But Dominic Ashford and his board? They get nothing."

Mr. Huang nodded slowly. "There is one more thing." He opened a manila folder. "Our investigators found this."

Inside were photographs. Serena Cole at a private dinner with Richard Ashford — Dominic's father. They were laughing, leaning close. Too close.

"Serena isn't just your husband's mistress," Mr. Huang said. "She's been on Richard Ashford's payroll for three years. She was planted to ensure Dominic never got attached to you. The Ashford family wanted the Zheng money without the Zheng wife. Their plan was to push you into filing for divorce first, which would trigger the 'abandonment clause' in the prenup — meaning you'd walk away with nothing."

I stared at the photos. The betrayal I felt toward Dominic suddenly seemed small compared to this. It wasn't just a cheating husband. It was a conspiracy. A family operation designed to strip me of everything.

My hand trembled. Then it stopped.

"Mr. Huang," I said quietly. "Buy Ashford Tower. The flagship one."

He blinked. "The Brooklyn project? It's a money pit."

"Buy it. Rename it. I want my name on the building Dominic Ashford is most proud of."

Mr. Huang smiled for the first time that night. It was the smile of a shark.

"Consider it done, Miss Zheng."

I stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan glittered below me like a circuit board. Somewhere out there, Dominic was putting on his shoes, heading to dinner with the woman who was engineered to destroy me.

Enjoy the meal, Dominic.

It's the last one you'll be able to afford.