Chapter 1

Three years of marriage, and my husband never once touched me.

On the night of our anniversary, I found him in our bed — with my stepsister.

And when I confronted him, he didn't apologize.

He handed me divorce papers.

"Sign it, Scarlett. You should've seen this coming," Derek said, still buttoning his shirt like I'd interrupted something trivial. "Mia and I are in love. We always have been."

My stepsister sat on my bed, wrapped in my sheets, wearing the diamond necklace I thought Derek had bought for me last Christmas.

She pouted her lips and leaned into him. "Derek, don't be mean. She's probably heartbroken. I mean… three years and you never even kissed her. That's gotta sting."

I stared at both of them.

Something inside me didn't break. It just… went cold.

"You want me to sign?" I asked.

Derek crossed his arms impatiently. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. You'll get nothing in the settlement. The prenup is airtight. You walked into this marriage with nothing, and you'll walk out with nothing."

Mia giggled. "Maybe she can go back to waitressing. Wasn't that what you did before Derek's family saved you?"

Three years.

Three years I stayed in this marriage because my dying grandmother begged me to. She believed Derek's family was good. She believed I'd be taken care of.

She passed away two months ago.

And now there was nothing keeping me here.

I picked up the pen from the nightstand, flipped to the last page, and signed my name without a single word.

Derek blinked, clearly not expecting it to be that easy.

"That's it?" he asked. "No crying? No begging?"

I set the pen down and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Why would I beg for something I never wanted?"

Before he could respond, I turned and walked toward the door.

But Mia's voice stopped me.

"Oh, Scarlett? One more thing." She held up her phone, showing me a photo of a stunning red dress on a mannequin. "Derek's taking me to the Laurent Group's annual gala tomorrow night. You know, the biggest event in the city? I'll be walking in as Mrs. Mitchell."

She smiled sweetly. "You're welcome to watch from your little apartment. If you can afford a TV, that is."

I paused at the door.

The Laurent Group's annual gala.

If only they knew.

I didn't turn around. I just smiled to myself and whispered, "Enjoy the party, Mia."

Because what none of them knew — not Derek, not Mia, not even his powerful family — was that the Laurent Group didn't belong to some mysterious tycoon.

It belonged to me.