Chapter 3

The next day, Ryan didn't show.

At 9:07 a.m., he sent me a long message telling me not to be impulsive.

"Kate had a bad night. I couldn't leave."

"Ellie, I'm not signing any divorce papers. Let's both cool down."

I didn't reply. I contacted a lawyer directly and had litigation papers drafted.

But I hadn't expected Ryan to move faster than me.

A week later, Blackwell Group held its annual gala.

I was the lead designer at the Chicago division, responsible for the year's most important commercial project. Attendance was mandatory.

The venue was in Manhattan, where the New York headquarters was located. The moment I walked into the ballroom, I sensed the unusual stares.

Someone whispered: "That's her? Ryan's wife?"

"Heard they've been married for years and she still hasn't had a kid."

"Kate's already pregnant with the second one, and she's still clinging to the Mrs. Blackwell title."

"If I were her, I'd take the money and go. How embarrassing."

I swept a cold glance across those gossiping faces and walked straight to my seat.

Onstage, Ryan stood in a dark gray Tom Ford suit, delivering the annual summary.

His gaze cut through the crowd and landed on me. A warning.

I met it calmly.

When the awards segment began, the host's voice rang out.

"This year's Best Commercial Space Design Award goes to—Kate Miller!"

My head snapped up.

Kate wore a silver gown, her slightly rounded belly unmistakable under the lights. She glided onto the stage amid applause, accepted the trophy, eyes brimming with tears.

"Thank you, everyone." She gazed at Ryan through glistening eyes. "Especially Ryan. Without his guidance, I never could have completed this project."

Thunderous applause.

I sat in my corner, shaking.

That project—from concept to execution—had been mine alone. I'd bled over it through countless sleepless nights.

Kate couldn't even read a construction drawing.

Ryan took the microphone.

"There's one more announcement tonight."

He looked at me, his tone as formal as a board meeting memo.

"Due to personal health reasons, Ellie Blackwell will be taking indefinite leave. The position of Design Director at the Chicago division will be temporarily filled by Kate Miller."

A beat of silence, then murmurs rippled through the room.

Some looked sympathetic, some watched for the spectacle, most were waiting for me to break.

I finally understood.

Ryan wasn't trying to save the marriage.

He was trying to make me submit.

He'd stolen my work, hollowed out my position, and publicly trampled my dignity—all to send one message: without him, I was nothing.

I stood up.

No hysterics. No panicked flight.

I walked to the front of the stage, step by step, and looked up at Ryan towering above me.

"Mr. Blackwell, plagiarizing someone's intellectual work is a legal violation. You're aware of that, yes?"

Ryan's expression darkened. He lowered his voice.

"Ellie, tonight is not the place for you to have a meltdown. Putting Kate's name on the project was my way of compensating her."

"I can give you double the money if you want. Just stop making a scene."

"Compensating." I smiled. "You take my life's work, hand it to your mistress to pave her career, and expect me to applaud?"

"Ryan Blackwell, you never cease to amaze me."

Kate spoke up softly from beside him.

"Ellie, don't blame Ryan. I wanted to prove myself. I'll give you all the prize money. I really didn't mean to take what's yours."

Her words drew a wave of sympathetic murmurs.

"Kate's so gracious."

Another woman chimed in: "Honestly, Ellie's being way too aggressive."

I looked at Kate.

"You wanted to prove yourself? Then explain—right now—why the atrium skylight uses triangular steel framing. Why the fire egress plan went through three revisions."

Kate went white.

"I… those details were a team effort…"

I cut her off.

"You don't even know where the drawing files are stored."

Ryan stepped forward.

"Enough."

I opened my mouth to speak, but a sudden, searing pain ripped through my lower abdomen.

Like a blade being driven in from the inside.

I doubled over instinctively, pressing my hand to my stomach. Cold sweat broke across my forehead.

Ryan looked at me coldly.

"The same act twice isn't interesting anymore."

I could barely form words through the pain.

"I'm not—"

He turned to security. "Please escort my wife out."

Two guards approached, flanking me on either side.

I tried to struggle, but my body had gone limp with pain.

"Let go of me…" I gritted my teeth. "I need a hospital…"

No one listened.

Kate stood onstage and murmured: "Ryan, don't—Ellie might really be unwell."

Ryan didn't even glance at me.

"She's just trying to ruin tonight."

I was dragged out of the ballroom and deposited on the steps outside the hotel.

As the doors swung shut, I heard Kate's honeyed voice from within.

"Ryan, the baby just kicked."

Applause and laughter seeped through the closed doors.

I sat on the freezing steps, doubled over in pain.

Then I felt something warm and wet spreading along my inner thigh.

I looked down.

Blood.