Chapter 1

I'm a mama's girl, and my mother is one of the most feared people in the elite social circle.

When I was little, I was snatched by traffickers. She crossed ninety-nine mountains through the night to get me back.

And she personally crippled the traffickers' hands and feet.

When I grew up, I fell for Tristan Gilbert, the most handsome male celebrity in Los Angeles.

One little plea from me, and without a word she had Tristan trussed up and delivered right in front of me.

"My daughter wants him, my daughter gets him."

After we married, Tristan didn't dare stir up a single scandal.

When I asked why, a shiver ran through him.

"The future me called and warned me. If I ever cheat, that psycho mother of yours will torture me until I wish I were dead."

But three years later.

He cheated anyway.

He brought his female assistant home right out in the open.

And tossed a paternity report at me.

"You're not your father's real daughter. Ada Fox is the true lost heiress of your family!"

I felt a flicker of panic and pressed him at once.

"Then am I my mother's real daughter?"

He grunted, his whole face full of contempt.

"So what if you are? Your mother must have slept with some lover and had you!"

"Your mother can be as ruthless as she likes, but she's still just a woman."

"The second I tell your father about this, he'll throw both you cheap little bitches out of the house!"

The knot in my chest finally loosened.

Whether I'm my father's daughter doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm my mother's child.

Because my father only married into the family.

My mother is the true mistress of this house.

Since Tristan cheated, then I'll make that phone call from three years ago come true.

...

If I could.

I'd want my mother to rush home right now and clean house herself.

But she's away on business in the United States, so all I can do is call her.

The call hadn't even connected.

When Tristan yanked the phone out of my hand, dropped it under his foot, and ground it into the floor again and again.

"Trying to go tattle to your mommy again?"

He laughed, mocking.

"You really are the famous mama's girl of Los Angeles. Twenty-five years old and still this useless."

"Without your mother here this time, can you still throw your weight around?"

I stared into Tristan's eyes, unable to believe it.

Three years of marriage.

He had never once dared to be rough with me.

He was even afraid a single kiss might make me cry.

On rainy days, he'd carry me on his back so I wouldn't soak my shoes and socks.

When my cramps hit, he'd stay up all night changing the hot water bottle, gently rubbing my belly.

In the car accident, he shielded me on instinct, and it didn't matter to him that three of his own ribs broke.

At night.

He would softly kiss my forehead.

"Ivy Swanson, I think I've really fallen in love with you."

I thought three years of love had finally bloomed.

I never imagined the bloom would last only a heartbeat.

"What's this? Without your mother backing you up, you can't even talk?"

Ada, standing at Tristan's side, was grinning ear to ear.

"Just like a three-year-old who never got weaned."

"No wonder Tristan's heart wandered!"

But what could I do about having a ruthless mother I could lean on?

When I was little and got bullied by a classmate.

One call from her, and that classmate's whole family moved out of Los Angeles overnight.

When a teacher had it in for me, she marched straight to the school without a word and made her point.

After that, I walked the halls untouchable.

Playing rock-paper-scissors with her, I only ever threw scissors.

Because she was my rock and my paper.

My thoughts came back to the room.

I looked straight at Tristan and said coldly.

"Don't push this too far. Tristan, aren't you afraid that phone call from three years ago will come true?"

Three years ago, right after Tristan married in.

He'd said to me, his face full of fear.

"The future me called and warned me I could never cheat."

"The moment I betray you, your mother will torture me until I wish I were dead, until I'm living worse than a stray dog!"

I thought bringing it up would give him at least a little pause.

But the man just gave a scornful little snort.

His tone light as air.