Chapter 1

Six months after my husband, Caleb Frost, received his kidney transplant, his first love, Scarlett, had been the one taking care of him. She had even specially procured a custom herbal remedy for him. The broth was garishly bright in color and carried a pungent, acrid stench.

"Caleb, this is a secret formula I begged someone for. It’s the best for restoring your vitality," she cooed softly, blowing on the spoon to cool it before bringing it to his lips, her posture the picture of docile submission.

I reached out to stop him, but Caleb swatted my hand away with a harsh sweep, sending me crashing to the floor.

"Stop making a scene." His eyes were heavy with disgust. Right in front of me, he drank the entire bowl down.

Watching the two of them nestled together, I wiped the trail of blood from the back of my hand and smiled faintly. "Caleb," I whispered, my voice soft as silk, "you absolutely must... live a long, long life."

"Caleb, drink it while it's hot. I spent a full eight hours making this for you."

Scarlett smiled brightly, holding a delicate white porcelain bowl as she stood in the backstage lounge of the Frost Group's tenth anniversary gala.

The bowl held a dark brown broth, giving off a strange, sweet-metallic smell.

Caleb sat on the leather couch, his eyes warm and soft.

"Scarlett, you didn't have to go through all this trouble. You just got back—you shouldn't be wearing yourself out for me."

He reached out to take the bowl.

Bang!

I shoved the lounge door open. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.

The air in the room went dead still.

I strode across the room, grabbed the porcelain bowl straight out of Scarlett's hands, and slammed it down hard on the coffee table.

Broth splashed everywhere. A few dark drops landed on my white couture gown, like dried bloodstains.

"Victoria! What is wrong with you!"

Caleb shot to his feet, face ashen. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by cold contempt.

I stared him down. "Caleb, your kidney transplant was less than six months ago! The doctors told you over and over—don't consume anything from an unknown source. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Unknown source?" Caleb let out a short, cold laugh. "Scarlett is my chief assistant. More than that, she's my... close friend. The soup she makes is a hundred times better than anything you've ever put on the table—and you're barely a wife in the first place."

Scarlett went pale. She shrank behind Caleb like a frightened deer.

"Victoria, please don't be angry. This is all my fault... I just felt bad seeing Caleb work so hard every day. With his kidney condition, I wanted to help, so I tracked down a secret recipe..."

Her eyes welled up, her voice thick with hurt.

"If you don't want me to make it anymore, I won't. Just please, don't fight with Caleb because of me."

What a performance.

I looked at her coldly. "Scarlett, drop the act. You know exactly what you put in that soup."

"That is enough!"

Caleb pulled Scarlett into his arms and spun toward me, furious.

"Victoria, do you have some kind of paranoia? Scarlett did something kind, and you have to make it this ugly? Look at yourself right now. Is this how the wife of the Frost family is supposed to act?"

I watched him hold Scarlett close, and something invisible wrapped around my chest and squeezed until I couldn't breathe.

Me? Making a scene?

Six months ago, when his kidneys failed and his life hung by a thread—who was the one standing outside that operating room, hands shaking so badly she could barely sign the critical condition forms?

Who was the one who slipped into the room next door, climbed onto a surgical table, and let them cut a kidney out of her own body so he could live?

Me! Victoria!

But when he woke up, the first face he saw was Scarlett's—his first love, who had rushed back from overseas.

All it took was a few of her tears, and she became everything to him. And I became the villain standing in the way of their great love story.

"You want to drink it? Fine." I laughed, past caring now, and pointed at the bowl. "Get your will in order first. Sign your Frost Group shares over to me—then drink as much as you want. I won't stop you from killing yourself."

Smack.

A hard slap cracked across my face.

My head snapped to the side. My ears rang.

I tasted blood.

Caleb pointed toward the door, his eyes as cold as if he were looking at an enemy.

"Victoria. Get out! Stop making a scene."

I pressed my hand to my burning cheek and slowly turned to look at the man I had loved for ten years.

Ten years.

From college sweethearts on campus, to building a company from nothing side by side, to standing together as the president and first lady of Frost Group.

I had been with him through the hardest years of his life. I had given him a piece of my own body.

And now, for a woman who had walked away from him five years ago, he had hit me.

"Caleb, stop it…" Scarlett grabbed Caleb's sleeve, her voice dripping with false concern. "Victoria just cares about you."

"She cares about me?" Caleb spat through clenched teeth. "She can't wait for me to drop dead so she can get her hands on everything in Frost Group."

I stood there watching them, and suddenly the whole thing struck me as absurd.

I laughed.

"Fine, Caleb. Remember what you just said."

I didn't look at either of them again. I turned and walked out of the lounge.

Out in the hallway, a handful of executives and assistants were craning their necks, peering in our direction.

The moment they saw me, they dropped their eyes and pretended nothing had happened.

But I knew. By tomorrow, the whole company would be talking — the CEO's wife got slapped in front of everyone, and the mistress had officially won.

I straightened my spine, held my head up, and walked out of the banquet hall one deliberate step at a time, heels clicking against the floor.

The night air outside was brutal. It hit my face like a blade.

I pulled open the car door, dropped into the driver's seat, and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. My knuckles turned white.

The scar along my right side had started to ache again — that dull, familiar throb.

It was the mark left by the kidney surgery. A scar that would never fully go away.

I took a slow, deep breath and forced the tightness in my chest back down.

Victoria, don't you dare cry.

He's not worth a single tear.

I pulled out a tissue and dabbed the corners of my eyes. Then my gaze drifted down to my dress — a few small brown splatters on the hem.

That strange smell hit me again. Sweet and metallic at the same time.

Something was wrong.

That was not the smell of ordinary broth.