Chapter 3

Julian panicked, frantically trying to soothe her:

"Chloe, stop it, please! My mother is literally in emergency surgery right now!"

"Julian, I'm so disgusted with myself! I gave up my dignity to be your mistress, and your mother and wife still treat me like dirt!"

"You swear you love me, but you're just full of lies! You won't sign the divorce papers, and you haven't even forced your wife to get that surgery!"

"I'm done trusting you!"

Julian was losing his mind, coddling Chloe like a desperate puppy:

"I'm coming to you right now, okay? Please, stop crying."

I stepped right in front of him, blocking his path:

"Julian! Your mother is having brain surgery! They need your signature! You cannot walk out that door!"

Without a second of hesitation, he shoved my arm aside, tossing over his shoulder:

"You're here! Mom will be fine with you here!"

And with that, he sprinted away.

This wasn't the first time he had abandoned his family for Chloe.

My heart had gone numb a long time ago. Not a single ripple of sorrow remained.

Less than an hour later, a text from Chloe popped up on my phone:

"See that? I matter more to Julian than his own dying mother."

"Even with his mom on the operating table, one tear from me and he comes running back to my bed."

Attached below were two intimate photos of them tangled up together.

Over the past three years, I had received dozens of these photos.

Every single one had been saved and backed up as evidence for my legal team.

I stared at the bleak, sterile doors of the operating room.

Once again, I was reminded that a man whose heart had turned cold was more terrifying than a monster.

He couldn't even care for his own mother.

Why on earth would he care about a wife?

After three grueling hours of surgery, Eleanor was transferred to the surgical ICU. The prognosis was dire.

The next day, Julian called me a dozen times. I ignored every single one.

Finally, he sent a text:

"Thanks for taking care of Mom at the hospital."

"Chloe and I are flying out to Paris for some business. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Minutes later, Chloe's gloating message landed in my inbox:

"Just because I mentioned I craved brunch in Paris, your husband booked us first-class tickets."

"I also casually said I want our baby to hold European citizenship and offshore trusts, and he agreed on the spot!"

"He told me that the first wife is meant for hard labor, while I'm meant to look pretty and enjoy the fortune."

"What's the point of clinging to the Moore name? In the end, every single penny will belong to me and my son!"

Even though I never replied, she never grew tired of sending her toxic provocations.

For an entire month, Chloe used Julian's phone to post their romantic escapades on Instagram every single day.

I was long past caring.

I just smiled coldly at the screen.

What she didn't know was that yesterday, Eleanor had finalized her will.

Eleanor was the largest single shareholder of Moore Enterprises. She had summoned a notary and her corporate attorneys to the bedside.

While fully lucid, she dictated her last wishes, signed, and thumbprinted every document, leaving all her shares, properties, and personal wealth directly to me.

Furthermore, she signed a whole-body donor agreement. She specifically forbade Julian from attending any memorial.

Over the years, Julian hadn't just broken my heart; he had shattered his mother's soul.

Half an hour ago, Eleanor passed away.

In her final moments, I held up my phone, ready to call Julian.

She weakly pushed my hand away. Her last words were:

"He doesn't care. Don't waste your breath."

My tears couldn't keep her in this world.