Chapter 1

Five years ago on Mother’s Day, my son handed me the most unforgettable gift of my life—a five-million-dollar debt.

As a designer, I drew sketches frantically by day and worked graveyard shifts at night.

I worked myself to the bone, ruining my health just to scrape together the cash. Covered in grease and sweat, I went to pay off the loan shark.

Only to see my son, Tyler, and my ex-husband, Richard Sterling, sitting in a VIP private lounge in tailored suits, while the ruthless loan shark bowed, smiled, and toasted them with expensive liquor.

Father and son acted like high-and-mighty overlords.

"Mr. Sterling, I really tried my best. Who knew your ex-wife was this stubborn? She’d rather work herself to death than come begging to you for help."

Tyler stood up, reassuring his father with a smug grin.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll just fake another twenty-million-dollar debt. She’ll have to crawl back to you this time!"

Richard put down his cigar, rose to his feet, and patted Tyler on the shoulder.

"Dad, I’ve got my eye on a new sports car. What do you think?"

"Go to finance tomorrow and cash the check. It's just a car. Remember, Tyler, you're the sole heir to Sterling Enterprises."

Sterling Enterprises had risen meteorically in the business world over the past decade, monopolizing industries across New York.

Even the fashion firm I slaved away for was owned by them.

When Tyler graduated from college, he often sighed with envy, wondering why he didn’t have a billionaire father with the same last name.

"My son is brilliant. You'll stand at the top of the pyramid one day."

Back then, Tyler had smiled and nodded. Perhaps even at that moment, he had already secretly reunited with Richard.

The booming music in the club pounded against my ears. Cold sweat drenched my body, and a bitter, acidic ache twisted in my gut.

Yet what they said next plunged me straight into an arctic abyss.

"It's all my mom's fault. You were just fooling around with a few women on the side, and she made a huge deal out of it and divorced you. She ruined my chance at the good life!"

"She's completely clueless. Without your networking back then, how would you have built this empire? Women are just petty."

I would never forget the day I caught Richard cheating, finding him and that mistress entangled in a hotel bed.

In all the years since the divorce, he had never paid a single cent in child support. I raised Tyler with blood, sweat, and tears.

Back then, Tyler was such a good kid. Knowing how hard I worked, he wanted to ease my burden and started a venture right after college.

Instead, on Mother’s Day, he broke down and told me the startup collapsed, his partner ran off, and he was drowning in debt.

I watched thugs bang on our door, throwing red paint, threatening to chop off Tyler's fingers if the debt wasn't cleared.

Without a second thought, I stood in front of my boy and took on every penny of that crushing debt.

As a veteran senior designer, I shouldn't have had to break my back drafting sketches anymore. But the debt was staggering, so I began taking freelance gigs under the table.

My company caught on. Citing a breach of contract, HR claimed they were doing me a favor because of my seniority, demoting me to an entry-level design assistant.

My income plummeted. Left with no choice, I spent my days drafting plans and my nights cleaning grease at a fast-food joint.

Five grueling years slipped away like this, but the debt rolled like a snowball, growing heavier each day.

Then, Tyler pulled a disappearing act. I was his mother—what else could I do? I begged the loan shark for an extension.

The debt collector was ruthless. Money was money; why should he show mercy?

Thinking of my son’s future, I dropped to my knees, begging and slamming my forehead against the cold floor until blood trickled down.

Afraid I would drop dead on the spot, the collector finally agreed to let me pay in installments.

I was never a weak woman. For my son, I forged myself into steel. That was the power of a mother's love.

Little did I know it was all a sick, calculated trap. In love and in money, I had been utterly played.

A wave of crushing despair washed over me. Trembling, I dialed an old friend.

"Violet, you once said you wanted me as the creative director for your design firm. Does the offer still stand?"