A Wedding Offer that Made my Ex Husband Crawled Back

"You told me before that you’d cover all my father’s medical expenses if I married you,” I said into the phone, my voice flat but trembling underneath. “Is the deal still on the table?”

Silence. A pause. Then a low, amused chuckle on the other end of the line.

“So you finally realized that Treston’s garbage,” he said. “And that I’m the one who actually cares for you?”

I closed my eyes.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll divorce him. Come pick me up… in a week.”

And then I ended the call before I could hear his smug response. Before I could lose my nerve.

My hand dropped to my lap, the phone clattering softly against the sheets.

My whole body was shaking.

Marrying him—the man I once swore I’d never speak to again. My enemy in college. The same arrogant bastard who competed with me in every class, every competition, every breath. The one who once told me, with terrifying certainty, “One day, you’ll be mine whether you like it or not.”

And now… I was the one calling him.

But even marrying him felt like a better choice than staying here. In this fiveyear marriage to a man who shattered me without blinking.

Treston. My husband.

The man I gave everything to.

The man who cheated on me… with Summer. My best friend.

I found out months ago. By accident. Treston forgot to log out of our shared calendar. A hotel booking appeared—under both his name and Summer’s.

At first, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. I asked. Calmly. Reasonably.

“She’s a client,” he said with that condescending smile. “You referred her to me, remember? You said she needed help setting up her brand. She’s your friend. Why are you acting like this?”

I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.

After all, Summer was my trusted friend. The one who held my hand at the wedding. The one who stayed up with me during my pregnancy scares. The one I used to call my sister. So, I turned a blind eye… and stayed.

Even when they started showing signs—subtle at first, then slowly no longer trying to hide it—I stayed quiet.

The way Summer’s hand lingered just a bit too long on his arm when they joked. The way they always exchanged glances during dinners, as if they shared some inside joke I wasn’t invited to. Latenight chats between them that lit up his phone screen long after I had fallen asleep. At first, I thought I was being paranoid. Overthinking. Hormonal.

But Summer began leaving little hints—cruel in their carelessness.

Once, she sent me a photo of them at a “client lunch,” and when I asked why she’d send that, she replied, “Oops, wrong chat. Sorry, babe! Total mistake lol.”

Another time, she messaged me: “If I were you, I’d start checking his phone more… men can be weak sometimes, right?”Followed by a wink emoji.

She even knew things she shouldn’t—details of my arguments with Treston, things I had only told him. And yet she’d bring them up, twisting them into jokes, into playful digs.

I saw it. I felt it.

But I still stayed.

Because I was pregnant.

And because I still wanted to believe they wouldn’t do that to me.

I was a fool.

But two days ago, everything crumbled.

I was seven months pregnant. Feeling dizzy. Cramping. Something didn’t feel right. I called Treston, asking him to take me to the hospital.

But it wasn’t Treston who answered.

It was Summer.

“Oh, hey. He’s busy right now,” she said, giggling between moans, and in a low teasing whisper said, “In between my thighs. Oh…”

I couldn’t even speak. I ended the call, hands shaking, and dragged myself down from the bed.

I walked alone. I remember the screech of tires before anything else. The smell of beer. The crash.

Then blackness.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a sterile hospital room. IV in my arm. Pain slicing through my abdomen.

The nurse stood beside me, her eyes too careful.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “The baby… couldn’t be saved.”

I froze, not knowing what to do. I reached for my phone and called the one person I still hoped would care. But instead of comfort, his voice was ice.

“Of course it’s your fault,” he snapped. “You can’t even protect your own baby. You’re useless. Honestly, it should’ve been you who died instead. But it’s better now, it’s not like I care. Just go to work once you’re done in the hospital, I have a lot of things you need to do.”

Right. I was no longer a wife but just his secretary now.

Then he hung up. That was it.

No hospital visit. No tears. No apology.

The next morning, I received a message.

From Summer. A series of photos—her, Treston, and a little boy. Around three years old. Treston’s eyes. Summer’s curls. They went on a trip out of the country while I was bleeding to death.

Don’t worry about the baby, He never cared anyway. He already has an heir. Why don’t you vanish? You’re the mistress in this story. You always were.

That was the last straw. I knew I had to leave.

My thoughts were interrupted when a nurse came into the room, clipboard in hand. “Mrs. Villarez, you’re cleared for discharge now.”

I nodded slowly. Dragged myself up.

Pain throbbed in my side, but I moved like a ghost—quiet, invisible, floating between walls that no longer held any meaning.

As I stepped into the hallway, I pulled out my phone again and called my lawyer.

“I want a divorce,” I said coldly. “Immediately.”

“Amber, are you sure? What about your father? If you leave him, Treston will cut off the funding for his treatment. And you… you have nowhere else to go.”

That was the truth.

Aside from the baby, that was always the reason I couldn’t walk away.

My father. He was the only one who stayed with me when my mother died. He raised me, taught me how to dream big, how to carry myself with pride even in a room full of people who wanted to tear me down. We used to belong to something powerful—a legacy built over generations.

I was once an heir to a billionaire family name. My father's company was one of the most powerful in the tech and medical industries. Until everything crumbled.

One by one, his trusted board members betrayed him. Investors pulled out. Partnerships collapsed. The news said it was poor leadership.

But it wasn’t. He was scammed.

And before the lawsuits even began, my father was in a car accident—one that left him in a coma and clinging to life. Some whispered that it wasn’t really an accident. I believed that.

And that’s when he came into the picture.

Treston Villarez. The socalled "savior" of our family's legacy.

He stepped in with a proposition.

Marry him, and he’d acquire and "revive" our company. In return, he’d pay for all my father’s medical treatments and hospital care indefinitely. At the time, it felt like the only choice I had.

I became his secretary… and his wife.

Silently. Secretly.

He didn’t want anyone to know. He said it was for “business reasons,” that a CEO married to the daughter of a collapsed company would raise eyebrows. And I… I stayed quiet, sacrificing myself to the shadows for the sake of my father’s life.

But now? Now, there was no child. No love. No point.

So I gripped the phone tighter and said to the lawyer, “I don’t need him anymore. Finalize the divorce.”

The next morning, I went to the office. Not as his wife. Just his secretary. The same way I had lived for the last five years.

I walked straight to HR and requested they start hiring a replacement. “I’ll train whoever you hire,” I told them. “I’m resigning by the end of the week.”

They looked surprised. But no one argued. I returned to my desk and began scanning the old files, organizing what I could. I didn’t expect him to notice immediately.

But of course, he did.

Treston stormed into the main office without knocking.

“What’s going on?” he snapped. “Why did HR notify me about a hiring request?”

I stood, calmly. “I’m resigning. I’d like to take some time off… rest.”

His eyes narrowed. “Rest? Are you insane? Have you forgotten about your father? I’m the only reason he’s still breathing. You are my secretary and I don’t want anyone!”

I looked at him and said quietly, “I’m also your wife.”

“Shut up!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder. “Someone might hear you. You know we agreed to keep that a secret. What the hell are you thinking, blabbing that out here? We'll talk at home—when you’re sober.”

Then, without warning, he grabbed a stack of files and threw them onto my desk, scattering papers everywhere.

“Fix this. Organize the files. Reschedule my meetings. And also—book a flight for me.”

“Where to?” I asked, swallowing the shake in my voice.

He smiled cruelly. “With Summer. We have business in London.”

I froze. “Why Summer?”

“She’s a client,” he said flatly. “She needs my guidance. Why do we keep talking about this? Did you become stupid after losing a baby?”

I gritted my teeth. “What kind of client needs her CEO to accompany her across the country?”

That was when he slapped me.

Hard. My head turned with the force, my cheek stinging with heat and shame. My chest tightened—but I didn’t let myself cry.

“What kind of secretary questions what her boss tells her to do?” he snapped.

Before I could speak, Summer walked in, heels clacking like daggers on marble.

“Oh, don’t be so harsh on Amber,” she cooed. “She just got out of the hospital. Let me help her.”

She bent down, picked up the scattered papers, and handed them to me with a fake smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

But as she leaned in closer, her lips brushed my ear. “You really have the audacity to show up after everything,” she whispered. “He doesn’t want you, Amber. He never did.”

I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

Treston waved her over. “That’s enough. Let her do her work. Come on, Summer—we need to finalize your brand rollout.”

She clung to his arm like she belonged there, and together, they walked into his office.

As they disappeared, I heard the whispers.

From the hallway. Two employees talking by the water cooler.

“They look good together, don’t they? Treston and Summer?”

“Yeah, I always thought it was her. Maybe she’s the secret wife people talk about.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard.

I didn’t say a word. I just kept working.

Fixing the files. Booking the flights. Finishing the reports like nothing had happened.

I was on my way out, finally ready to leave for the day, when I passed by his office again.

The lights were still on.

I thought they were gone.

But then I heard his voice through the slightly cracked door.

“I think I just have to kill her father,” Treston said, his tone disturbingly casual. “Then I can finally dispose of her.”

“I think I just have to kill her father,” Treston said, his tone disturbingly casual. “Then I can finally dispose of her.”

My body turned to ice.

I stood frozen just outside his office door, every breath caught in my throat. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My fingers clutched my bag so tightly I thought the straps would snap.

He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t angry.

He meant every word.

I thought that was the end of it—his cruelty. His audacity. But then he laughed again, voice thick with arrogance.

“She’s so damn stupid. Imagine thinking I was her savior. Me,” he scoffed. “The truth is, I’ve always been the villain. I’m the reason her family lost everything.”

My knees weakened. I had to press against the wall to stay upright.

He continued, voice lowering with pride, “Our companies were rivals, remember? And then when that merger was being discussed, everyone thought it was a winwin. But she wasn’t paying attention—too busy living in her little world, ignoring board meetings, pretending business didn’t concern her.”

I remembered that. I remembered hearing whispers about a partnership between our companies. I met Treston once during a corporate charity gala, and even then, something about him felt… dangerous. But I didn’t care about corporate politics. I left it to my father. He always said he’d protect me from that world.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

“Her father never saw it coming,” Treston said with a cruel chuckle. “I orchestrated the scam. The investor collapse. Everything. And when the crash came and the old man landed in that coma, all I had to do was act like a hero.”

Summer giggled. “And now she thinks you’re her only lifeline.”

“She was,” Treston said. “But now? I don’t need her anymore. I own everything. Their name. Their legacy. Her father’s treatment is just leverage until I’m done securing these final investors.”

Summer’s voice lowered. “What if she finds out the truth?”

Treston scoffed. “Even if she does, it’s too late. I already won. The company is mine. Her father is practically mine. What can she do?”

“And what about me?” Summer asked, sounding suddenly annoyed. “Why not divorce her already and marry me? Our son’s getting older. Don’t you want people to know he has a father?”

Treston kissed her. “Relax, babe. Just wait a little longer. Once I close this investor deal, I’ll get rid of her. I still need her name—for now. These investors still believe in her and her father. They’re the only ones who defended him after the scandal. But once they sign…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

They laughed together.

And that was it.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t even feel anger. I felt emptiness.

The five years I gave him. The loyalty. The silence. The sacrifices. The marriage. It was never love. Never real. I was just part of his long con. A pawn.

I walked away from the door, heart hollow. I refused to cry again.

Later that afternoon, I visited my father.

I sat beside his hospital bed, gently holding his hand, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Papa… I should’ve listened to those board meetings. I should’ve asked you more questions. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t be here. Maybe I could’ve stopped all of this before it happened.”

His chest rose and fell rhythmically, peacefully.

“I’m going to make things right,” I promised. “Even if I have to destroy everything to do it.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed.

A message from Niccolo.

Everything is ready for you and your father. See you in three days. You’re finally mine now, Amber. There’s no way I’m letting go.

Niccolo. My sworn rival back in college. Ruthless. Brilliant. Obsessively interested in me. And the man I had called one week ago in desperation.

The man who had always told me that someday, I would need him. And now… I did.

I went home, still feeling like I was sleepwalking through a nightmare. But the nightmare wasn’t done with me yet.

Because there, in the living room, was Summer. And a child. A little boy, barely three. Running around the house like it was his own. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him. Summer once brought him over, casually saying, “He’s my friend’s son. I need to babysit him for a few days.”

And Treston… he’d started asking me to buy baby gifts a year ago.

“For a client,” he’d said. “I need to make a good impression on her son.”

I believed him. God, I was such a fool.

Summer had disappeared abroad three years ago—right after our wedding. When she returned a year later, she never talked about where she’d been. I never asked. I trusted her.

Now I knew. She had been carrying his child. And I had been buying gifts for their son.

My thoughts were spinning when the little boy ran through the hallway, knocking into the altar at the center of the living room.

The urn fell.

My mother’s urn.

Shattered.

My scream echoed through the house. “What the hell did you just do?!”

The child stared at me, confused, then started crying.

He ran—toward the stairs.

“Wait—no!”

Before I could catch him, his foot slipped. He tumbled, fast, his small body bouncing down the wooden steps with a sickening thud.

Everything went still. My breath caught. And all I could do was stare at the broken urn… and the child on the floor.

Joshua was safe. That was the only thing the doctors kept repeating—He’s fine. Just a few bruises. Nothing broken.

But no one asked if I was safe. Because I wasn’t.

Not when Treston stormed into the room like a hurricane ready to destroy what little I had left.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted, slamming the door behind him. “You pushed a kid down the stairs?! Are you insane?!”

“I didn’t!” I cried, standing from the corner chair. “I swear—I didn’t push him! He broke the urn, I panicked, I shouted, but he ran! He slipped—I didn’t touch him!”

“Oh, so now it’s his fault?” Treston snarled. “A child?”

“I wasn’t thinking—I never wanted this! That urn was my mother’s. It shattered. I just—snapped. But I didn’t mean to scare him!”

“Your mother’s ashes?” he scoffed, stepping closer. “That’s what this is about? Newsflash, Amber—she’s dead. I should’ve thrown those ashes away the day we moved in.”

His words hit harder than any slap.

Treston’s face curled in disgust. “You know what? This is why you were never going to be a mother. You deserved to lose that child. Because you would’ve been a terrible mom.”

I gasped, the air fleeing my lungs. “Don’t—don’t say that. That baby—”

“Was never yours to keep,” he snapped. “You’re useless. Pathetic.”

Before I could even react, Summer entered the room like a scene from a perfectly rehearsed play.

“Don’t be too harsh on her,” she said sweetly, brushing past him. “Joshua’s okay now. And she’s still your wife. She said she didn’t mean it.”

Treston scoffed. “My wife? I regret marrying her. Every second. It should have been you. God, I was so wrong. So, she better start being a good one or her father might just stop breathing. You hear me, Amber?”

My hands were shaking as I clenched them at my sides. My mouth was dry.

“Apologize,” he growled.

I blinked. “To… Summer?”

“Yes,” he said, crossing his arms. “And kneel while you’re at it.”

“I—”

“Now.”

Not wanting to provoke him further—not wanting another threat aimed at my father—I dropped to my knees.

Summer walked toward me, knelt down with me, and smiled for the cameras in the hall that weren’t even there.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, crouching beside me with a fake smile. But then she leaned in, her voice turning into a venomous hiss. “You fcking btch. How dare you hurt my son. You’re jealous. Pathetic. Just like your mother.”

I tensed. Before I could even react, her hand shot out and shoved me—hard—right in the chest.

I was standing near the staircase, just like Joshua had been.

My foot missed a step.

My arms flailed, trying to grab the railing, but she was faster—she shoved me again with both hands, sending me backward.

“Die!” Summer screamed, her voice unhinged. “You deserve that for hurting my son!”

Pain flashed across my back as I tumbled.

I felt every step—sharp, unforgiving wood slamming against my spine, my shoulder, my legs.

My scream echoed through the corridor, loud and ragged. Everything twisted. Everything blurred.

A final crack of pain shot up my body as my head hit the last step.

And then—darkness.

I woke up to the sound of a machine beeping steadily beside me. Sterile lights. A pale ceiling. A dull ache pulsing through my entire leg.

The nurse walked in. Her eyes were kind, but her voice was distant. Professional.

“You’re in the hospital, Mrs. Villarez. You took a fall and broke your ankle. You’ll need a few weeks to heal.”

I blinked at her slowly. “Can I leave today?”

She frowned. “You should stay—at least until the swelling goes down. We can contact a family member if you’d like—”

“I don’t have any,” I said flatly. And I meant it.

“I’ll discharge myself by tomorrow. I’ve made arrangements.”

She tried to argue, but I’d already made up my mind. I’d be gone before anyone could drag me back in.

The next morning, I limped down the hallway with the aid of crutches, my body aching but my resolve stronger than ever.

Then I heard it.

A child’s laugh. I turned instinctively—and froze.

Joshua.

He ran straight into Treston’s arms, shouting, “Daddy!”

Treston crouched, scooped him up, laughing like the perfect father.

Behind them, Summer smiled, arms crossed like she had already won.

And she had.

I stood still. Unseen. Forgotten. Replaced.

Later that evening, I sat by the window of a nearby inn. My suitcase beside me, a file folder on my lap. My phone buzzed with a message from the lawyer.

“Divorce papers were successfully delivered to the Villarez estate. Only Treston’s signature is needed to finalize.”

I didn’t know what to expect when I returned to the Villarez estate. But I didn’t expect… this.

The house was buzzing with movement—renovation workers hammering, painting, rearranging furniture. The hallway smelled of paint and sawdust, and boxes littered the entrance. My boxes.

My belongings. Thrown out like garbage.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice stiff, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.

Treston appeared at the top of the stairs, sleeves rolled up like he was playing the role of a father settling into a domestic life.

“We’re converting your room,” he said plainly. “Joshua needs space. He and Summer are moving in here—for now.”

My heart clenched. “You’re—what?”

“And honestly,” he continued, descending the steps slowly, “this is all your fault anyway. You hurt Joshua. So, the least you can do is make space for him. Make it up to him and be thankful that Summer didn’t file a case for you after hurting Joshua.”

I wanted to scream, argue, throw everything back in his smug face. But I didn’t. I just stood there, absorbing the latest blow like a silent sponge. I wouldn’t let him see me break anymoret.

“I need you to sign something,” I said instead, pulling out a folder and handing it to him.

He raised a brow. “Can’t it wait? I don’t handle work inside this house.”

“It’s for the investment meeting tomorrow,” I said calmly. “It’s urgent.”

He scoffed and flipped the folder open carelessly, not even bothering to check the contents. “You better make sure everything goes as planned,” he said as he scribbled his signature. “Or else, I swear I’ll stop your father’s medication altogether.”

I didn’t respond.

What he didn’t know was that my father was already being transferred to another hospital under Niccolo’s name—and soon, he’d be out of Treston’s grasp for good.

Just then, Summer’s voice rang out from the kitchen as she came in holding grocery bags. “Babe, oh, I mean, Treston, I got everything! I even bought Joshua’s favorite snacks and yours too!”

Treston’s eyes shifted back to me. “Cook for us. And for Joshua.”

I blinked. “I still have to prepare the reports. You said it’s urgent—”

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “I’m telling you to cook. And be nice to Joshua. You owe him. You’ll be his nanny now. That’s your role in this house.”

It wasn’t a house anymore. It was a prison. One he built out of betrayal and kept decorating with my suffering.

Still, I went to the kitchen, dragging my steps as I began washing vegetables, chopping silently.

That’s when I felt it.

A sting. Salt thrown across my face, into my eyes, burning.

“Be gone!” Joshua screamed from behind me. “You don’t deserve to be here! You bitch!”

I stumbled back, gasping, blinking through the salt.

“Joshua!” I snapped, more in shock than anger.

But then I heard laughter.

Summer. Leaning against the counter with that wicked smile of hers.

“See?” she said sweetly. “Even our child doesn’t want you around. So… when will you finally leave?”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I just wiped my face and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. You’ll never have to see me again.”

“Great,” she chirped. “Oh, by the way… I went ahead and donated the rest of your stuff. Honestly, I couldn’t stand it taking up space in our home. Most of it’s already burned.”

There was no more pretending now. No fake sympathy. No passiveaggressive smiles. For the first time, Summer didn’t even try to hide it.

She admitted it. Bluntly. Proudly.

And all I could do was stare.

I remembered how, not too long ago, I used to call her late at night, crying over Treston’s distance, his coldness. And she would listen. Tell me he was probably just stressed. That men in business were complicated.

I told her everything. Trusted her.

I remembered pouring my heart out while she sat beside me, offering comforting words… all while she was already stealing him from me.

Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it started the moment I let her into our lives—into his business. I thought I was helping her when I convinced Treston to give her a consulting job. I said she was smart, capable, loyal.

And she had thanked me. With betrayal.

I stiffened. “My things?”

She nodded, unfazed. “Yep. You can go check, if you want. Might still catch the flames.”

I ran. Out the back door, into the open yard where smoke curled from a large metal bin. I choked back a cry as I stepped closer.

My clothes. My journals. My framed photographs. Gone.

And there, at the center of it all—charred and broken—was the heirloom necklace my mother gave me before she died. Its clasp halfmelted, the sapphire center shattered into glittering dust.

I dropped to my knees.

That necklace was the last piece of her I had. The last thing that smelled like her perfume. Felt like her love.

And Summer had destroyed it without a second thought.

I stood slowly, my breath ragged.

And I walked.

Straight back into the house. Summer was there, laughing at something Treston had said.

She turned to me with her perfect, mocking smile.

But before she could speak—

I slapped her.

The slap I gave Summer echoed across the room like thunder.

But she didn’t hesitate. Her palm struck my cheek just as hard, and before I knew it, we were tangled—hairpulling, screaming, fury exploding from years of betrayal, silence, and pain.

“You deserve nothing!” she hissed, trying to claw at my arms.

I shoved her back. “And you deserve everything that’s coming!”

We were interrupted by Treston’s footsteps pounding down the stairs.

“What the hell is going on?!”

Before I could speak, Summer turned, her performance instant.

“She attacked me!” she cried out, pretending to sob, rushing into his arms. “I was just trying to calm her down, and she snapped! She doesn’t want me or Joshua in this house—she’s been hateful, jealous—”

“Liar!” I shouted.

But it didn’t matter.

Treston’s eyes were already filled with disgust. “How dare you,” he said, storming toward me. “You lay your hands on her again?! After everything?!”

He slapped me. Hard. Again.

My head snapped to the side, but I didn’t cry. I just stared at him.

“You’re done,” he growled. “You’re locked in your room. Finish everything for tomorrow’s investor meeting. If you fail this, I swear—your father’s life is over.”

They dragged me to my room and locked the door. The sound of the lock clicking was far too familiar.

But this time… I didn’t feel trapped.

I opened my laptop. Pulled out the flash drive. Reviewed the investor files one last time.

Then I composed the message.

Niccolo,

Here are the documents for the investors. Take everything. Steal it from Treston. He doesn’t deserve a single piece of this company.

He replied almost instantly.

Sure thing, baby. For you. See you tomorrow.

A few hours later, the door burst open again. It was Summer.

“Oh good, you’re still awake,” she said breezily, not bothering to look at me. “Treston said you can come out now—but just for a bit.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t answer.

Then a small figure ran past her into the room—Joshua, holding a sandwich in one hand and a juice box in the other.

“Look who’s here!” Summer cooed, ruffling his hair. “Go say hi to your new nanny.”

Before I could react, Joshua threw the sandwich at me, smearing ketchup down my blouse. Then he giggled and shouted, “You’re a monster! I don’t want you here!”

I swallowed hard, forcing back the sting in my eyes.

Summer smiled sweetly. “Oops. He’s so full of energy these days. Anyway…” she said, already turning around. “I need to meet Treston in the study. Investor prep, you know?”

She looked back at me over her shoulder with a cruel smirk.

“Since you’re staying here rentfree and all,” she added, “be useful and look after him. I mean, he does need a nanny, and clearly I’m busy.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She left, laughing, her heels clicking confidently down the hallway. And I was left all night with their son—who hates me!

The next morning, the house was alive with noise—Treston barking orders, Summer putting on her "supportive partner" act, Joshua wailing in the background like the chaos belonged to all of us.

I dressed calmly. Neutrally. Played the part for the last time.

Treston entered the living room, perfectly pressed in a charcoal gray suit.

“Is everything ready?” he asked sharply.

“Yes,” I said, handing him the flash drive. “Your presentation files and talking points are in there.”

“Good,” he said, grabbing it. “I’m taking Summer with me first. You follow with the second car. Make sure nothing is messed up. The investors are expecting greatness today.”

“Of course,” I replied with a tight smile.

The moment they left, I turned my back on the house and walked straight upstairs where Joshua was playing.

Third person’s pov

Treston adjusted his cuffs and glanced at the clock.

The boardroom was ready. Everything was supposed to be perfect.

Until he slid the flash drive into the laptop. He didn’t expect what played. The screen flickered—then came the unmistakable sound of moaning.

Treston froze. Video footage filled the screen. His face. Summer’s voice. Their bodies. Their affair—every dirty angle recorded, timestamped, unfiltered.

“Sir?” a staff member knocked on the door, halfopening it. “We tried opening the presentation file on our end as backup… but it’s blank. There’s nothing.”

“Also…” another staff member rushed in, breathless. “The investors… they’ve canceled. They just left. They said they don’t want to be associated with the Villarez Group anymore.”

Treston stood still. His fists clenched.

“Call Amber,” he ordered tightly. “Now.”

They tried. No answer.

He pulled out his phone and texted her furiously.

Where are you? What the hell did you do?! Come back here right now.

No reply. No call. No read receipt.

That’s when the mail was handed to him. A sleek, matteblack envelope. He ripped it open. Inside—her resignation letter. And below it… the divorce papers. Signed. No, he didn’t agree to this!

Treston’s hands crumpled the envelope as his rage exploded. He shoved the contents off the boardroom table, sending files flying.

“FIND HER!” he bellowed. “Check the house, call the drivers, check the damn gate logs—do something!”

A few frantic minutes later, the butler called back.

“Sir,” he said hesitantly, “I checked every room. Miss Amber isn’t in the house.”

Treston’s fists shook. “Cut her father’s life support,” he spat. “Right now. Let her come crawling back!”

A second call came through—not even a minute later—from the hospital.

“Sir… we can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Treston snarled. “He’s under my authorization!”

“Not anymore,” the nurse replied. “He was transferred yesterday. A private medical team came with court orders and signed releases. He’s no longer under your care.”

Before he could utter a single word, the boardroom doors burst open.

Summer came running in, breathless and pale, her heels clattering against the marble floor.

“Treston!” she cried out, panic twisting her voice. “Treston—our son's gone! Joshua’s missing!”