Chapter 2

Nathan didn't come home for three straight days.

On the third evening, Chloe posted an update on Ins.

It was a photo of her and Nathan on her living room couch, leaning in close together.

The caption read: "Huge thanks to Nathan for studying with me until 2 AM! You're an absolute lifesaver for my exams!"

Beneath the post, Nathan's mother was the very first person to like it.

She commented: "Nathan has always had such a kind heart. Good luck with your exams, Chloe!"

I tapped on Chloe's profile picture and noticed she had changed it three days ago.

It had been taken inside Nathan's car. Through the window, the scenery clearly showed the route heading toward her apartment.

When Maya Cole called, I was still staring at that photo.

"Did you see Chloe's Ins post?"

"Yes."

"Nathan's mom liked it."

"I saw that too."

"Are you seriously just dropping one-word answers? Valerie, what the hell are you thinking? You have three babies in your belly! Three! What are you going to do on your own?"

"I never said I'd be on my own."

"So you're going to tell him?"

"No."

The other end went dead silent for five seconds.

"Then what's your plan?"

I opened the fridge. It was empty.

I hadn't set foot outside in three days. No milk, no eggs.

On the day Nathan walked out saying he needed to clear his head, there had been half a carton of strawberries left. They were covered in mold now.

"Maya, do me a favor and look something up."

"Name it."

"The condo Chloe lives in. Find out whose name is on the deed."

"What are you suspecting?"

"I suspect Nathan bought it."

Maya told me she'd need three days, but she dug it up in two.

"Bought in cash, under Nathan's name. Closed last March. Twelve hundred square feet, fully furnished. Chloe moved in last April."

Last March.

What was I doing last March?

I was at the fertility clinic getting baseline IVF screenings done.

Blood draws, ultrasounds, hormone panels—trips back and forth to the hospital endlessly.

Nathan came with me twice. The third time, he claimed he was busy with work, and he never brought it up again.

During those first two visits, he hadn't even bothered to ask why I was getting those tests in the first place.

"Also," Maya whispered, "Chloe's grad school sponsorship program listed an affiliate of Nathan's firm as her future employer. Nathan personally negotiated that spot for her."

I leaned against the windowsill. Outside, the sky was overcast and gray, looking like rain that refused to fall.

"Valerie, when are you going to confront him?"

"I'm not."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Leave."

"Leave where?"

"Go home."

"Back to your dad's?" Maya's voice spiked. "If you go back, doesn't that mean—"

"Mean admitting defeat?" I finished her sentence for her. "It means taking over the family empire. It means never having to walk on eggshells around anyone ever again."

Maya went silent for a long time.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say that? Three years. Ever since the day you married Nathan Cross, I've been waiting."

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all. Perfect timing."

After hanging up, I walked into the bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of the wardrobe.

Tucked away was an old leather briefcase holding a single document.

My father had handed it to me three years ago, and I had never opened it.

Stamped across the front cover were the words: Equity Transfer Agreement.

I broke the seal and flipped to the last page. My father's bold signature and official seal were already there.

Only mine was missing.

I picked up a pen and signed my name.

I dated it today.

My phone lit up again.

A text from Nathan's mother: "Did you send those reports yet? I had someone look at the numbers, and they said your levels look concerning. Come over to our place tomorrow so we can discuss it."

Concerning levels.

She had Chloe's cousin review them—a clinic nurse who wasn't even a doctor, diagnosing my labs through a phone screen.

I didn't reply.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found a saved number.

The contact name read: Dad.

I hit dial.

It picked up after two rings.

"Dad."

Silence on the other line.

"I'm ready to come home and take over the group."

Another pause.

Three seconds.

"I've waited three years to hear you say that." My father's voice trembled slightly before steadying. "When are you coming back?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll have my team arrange a flight."

"No need. I'll book it myself."

"Valerie," he called out.

"Yes?"

"Coming back this time... you aren't leaving again, are you?"

I hesitated for a beat, glancing at the photocopy of my pregnancy scan resting beside the suitcase.

"I'm staying for good."

After ending the call, I began packing.

There wasn't much.

Living in this apartment for three years, everything that truly belonged to me fit neatly into a single suitcase.

Most of the clothes in the closet were mine, but I left them all behind.

I only took a few old books, my laptop, and the signed equity agreement.

In the deepest corner of the nightstand drawer lay a velvet box containing the engagement ring Nathan had given me.

I pulled it out and looked at it.

A one-carat diamond in an outdated setting. Engraved on the inside band were the words: Cross & Miller.

Miller was my mother's maiden name, the name I used to go by.

After my mother passed away, I took back my father's surname, Vance.

Nathan never knew about the name change.

In his eyes, I was just Valerie Miller—an ordinary corporate worker from a broken home, raised by a single mother, struggling all alone in this city after her mother died.

He had no idea my father was Arthur Vance, the founder of Vance Enterprises.

He didn't know my mother's real maiden name wasn't Miller; she had changed it decades ago when she eloped with my father.

He didn't know that during college, I lived in a private villa and drove high-end sports cars.

He knew none of it.

Because before I married him, my father laid down one condition: "You can marry him, but he cannot know who you are. I want to see whether this man loves you for who you are, or if he's after our name."

Three years had passed.

The answer was painfully clear.

I put the ring back in its box, paused, and chose not to take it.

I left it on the nightstand, right where it was impossible to miss.

He would see it the second he walked through the door.