Chapter 3

A bucket of ice water crashed over my head, shocking me awake.

Bodyguards shoved an ill-fitting gown onto my body and pushed me from backstage into the banquet hall.

Instantly—blinding spotlights and a hundred camera flashes erupted in unison, exposing my soaking, wretched figure to every socialite in New York.

"So that's the woman who killed her own child?"

"How does she even have the nerve to still be alive? Disgusting."

"Julian's so unlucky—married to that crippled psychopath."

Laughter and scorn closed in around me.

Sophia walked over in towering heels, Ethan's hand in hers.

"Vivian, there you are. You must've suffered so much all those years inside."

She wore a Chanel haute couture gown that I recognized instantly—Julian had commissioned it for me as an anniversary gift.

I stared at the dress that should have been mine, bile rising in my throat.

Five-year-old Ethan suddenly launched himself at me and kicked my left leg—directly into the shattered kneecap.

I screamed. Pure reflex—I pushed him away.

Ethan toppled onto the carpet and burst into wails.

"What are you doing?!"

Maya came shrieking across the room, scooping Ethan into her arms, glaring at me with venom:

"Haven't you had enough?! Do you want to go back to prison?!"

Julian closed the distance in one stride, his fingers clamping around my arm like a vise:

"Do you have to make a scene in front of all these people?!"

I fought to wrench free of his grip, dragging my leg, trying to reach the door.

Sophia dabbed at her tears and turned to address the surrounding reporters:

"Vivian, wasn't it enough to hurt your own child? Now you're going after innocent little Ethan too?"

"As Julian's childhood sweetheart, I shouldn't involve myself in their marriage—but I simply can't stand by and watch!"

Her flawless victim performance had every socialite in the room shaking their heads in sympathy.

Then the massive LED screen at the center of the hall lit up without warning.

Reporters with microphones swarmed around me:

"Mrs. Reynold, according to our investigation, you come from the slums. Your father was killed by rivals. Your mother took her own life in atonement."

"Did you inherit your family's violent genes? Is that what makes you so vicious?"

Flashbulbs strobed. A wall of black microphones pressed against my lips.

Buried nightmares surging back paralyzed me where I stood.

It took an eternity before I found my voice, and I screamed it with everything I had:

"I was framed!!"

"Sophia is not Julian's childhood sweetheart! She's the other woman who destroyed our marriage!"

"Ethan is her bastard son with Julian! Those two killed my son Leo!!"

The entire hall plunged into deathly silence.

The color drained from Sophia's face. She swayed on her feet.

Julian wrapped a possessive arm around her.

He let out a long, pained sigh for the audience, his voice heavy with sorrow:

"I'm sorry. My wife suffered severe trauma during her incarceration. She's experiencing serious psychological delusions."

Then he leaned close to my ear, his whisper surgically cruel:

"Apologize to Sophia. Tell everyone she's not the other woman. Admit you made it up out of jealousy."

I clenched my jaw. "In your dreams."

Julian pulled out his phone, lit the screen, and shoved it in front of my eyes.

On it was a message he'd just drafted, addressed to a private military contractor:

**[Grind the child's ashes in the pulverizer.]**

My entire body began to convulse. Ice shot from the soles of my feet straight to the crown of my skull.

Julian watched me with dead eyes, his thumb hovering over the send button.

"No—!!"

*Thud.*

I dropped to my knees on the freezing marble, tears flooding my vision beyond all control.

"I'm sorry… I was jealous of Sophia! I lost my mind! I made it all up!"

"I was wrong… I apologize to you both…"

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