Chapter 1

Ethan Thorne, at the lavish baby shower for his son from an affair, announced to all the high-society guests that he was sending my ten-year-old daughter, Lily, to boarding school in Switzerland, all just to impress his new love.

He looked down at me, advising condescendingly, "Sending Lily abroad is for her own good. Don't be unreasonable and affect my relationship with my wife."

I clutched the cold steak knife, staring at his hypocritical face, and suddenly laughed.

He still didn't know.

Three years ago, the woman he personally poisoned to death—Eleanor Hayes—was his true wife.

And I am Eleanor's twin sister, Natalie Hayes.

For three years, I've endured humiliation and suffering, solely to protect the only remaining trace of my sister in this world: her daughter.

Since Ethan is practically begging for his downfall, it's time to settle all our scores – past and present.

Today was the celebration party for Serena Davies, Ethan's executive assistant, being promoted to Group Vice President.

He had specially booked the entire top-floor ballroom of the hotel.

All the prominent figures in the corporate world were in attendance.

He sat at the head of the main table, the usual cold, ruthless look of a corporate mogul replaced by an expression of pure tenderness as he gazed at the delicate Serena Davies beside him.

And I, Ethan's legally recognized wife, was relegated to a table in a quiet corner.

I watched this ridiculous charade with a detached gaze.

Beneath my blouse, my chest was still wrapped in thick gauze.

Three weeks ago, the company's overseas project ran into trouble, and the opposing party hired people to ambush him one night.

I took a knife for him. The wound was so deep, you could see the bone.

But the first thing he asked when he woke up was if Serena Davies had been scared.

"Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne is asking you to join him for a toast."

His assistant's voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked at the glass of red wine on the table, already cold, and didn't move.

The music in the ballroom stopped.

Ethan raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before landing coldly on me.

"Ellie, today is Serena's big day. As the lady of the Thorne house, you should offer her a toast."

I looked up, meeting his eyes directly.

"My wound hasn't healed yet. I can't drink."

At my words, the entire ballroom fell silent.

Serena gently tugged on Ethan's sleeve, her eyes instantly welling up. Her voice was so fragile, it sounded like it might disappear with a whisper.

"Ethan, it's all my fault. Ellie must still be angry with me, angry that I held this celebration. I should apologize to her right away..."

With that, she actually stood up, feigning an apology.

Ethan pulled her back into her chair, his face abruptly darkening.

"Eleanor Hayes! How long are you going to keep this up?"

His voice was low but filled with undisguised fury.

"Serena is under a lot of work pressure and her health isn't great. I just wanted her to be happy. You've been riding horses and skiing since you were a kid; you're tough as nails. What's a little stab wound? Do you have to embarrass me today?"

Tough as nails? What's a little stab wound?

I forced a smile, finding it utterly absurd.

Three years ago, my sister, Eleanor Hayes, was pregnant. In this very ballroom, Serena suddenly fainted.

A private doctor claimed she suffered from heart palpitations and weakness.

A psychic even emphatically declared that the baby Eleanor was carrying would bring Serena bad luck.

Ethan believed it.

He personally brought her that so-called prenatal supplement and forced Eleanor to drink it.

"Ellie," he said, "you have a strong constitution; you can have more children later. But Serena, she's delicate, she won't be able to handle it."

Eleanor died that winter night.

Even on her deathbed, she clutched my hand and made me promise to look after Ethan for her.

And now, he was using the same excuse to trample on "Eleanor Hayes'" dignity.

I hadn't even spoken, but Ethan had already lost his patience.

He slammed his hand on the table, making a champagne flute topple and red wine spill everywhere.

"Today, I have an important announcement to make."

He scanned the room, his gaze finally landing on the side of my table.

There sat my ten-year-old daughter, Lily.

"Lily is ten now; it's time she learned independence. I've already arranged for her to attend boarding school in Switzerland. She'll study there and won't need to come home for holidays; the school will handle everything."

Boom—

A collective gasp of shock rippled through the ballroom.

Everyone stared at Ethan in astonishment.

Lily was only ten.

This so-called Swiss boarding school was just a way to send Lily far away, to abandon her in a foreign place where she'd have no one and be forgotten.

Lily's small face instantly turned pale.

She clutched my sleeve in terror, trembling uncontrollably.

"Mom... I don't want to go... I'm scared..."

I reached back and squeezed her cold little hand, then slowly stood up.

The knife wound on my chest tore open from the abrupt movement, warm blood seeping through the gauze and staining my white blouse.

But I felt no pain.

I stared intently at Ethan, asking each word distinctly.

"What did you say? Where are you sending Lily?"