“I’m sorry, but this bed is for another patient,” the nurse snapped.

Just as I was about to accept my death, a strange man appeared and took care of everything. He moved me to a VIP penthouse suite and showed me parking lot security footage of my husband.

The sharp smell of chemicals and the bone deep chill of the air conditioning cut into my skin. I lay powerless on an emergency room gurnie, the sheets worn thin. Every exhale felt like a massive stone crushing my chest. Beside me, the heart rate monitor beeped slowly, mirroring my fading hope.

“Mrs. Valerie Hayes, I’m sorry, but I need an answer now,” the administrative clerk said, her voice devoid of empathy.

The woman in a sterile white uniform stood at the foot of my bed holding a clipboard. Her gaze wasn’t on me, but on the bill she was holding. Your insurance card has been declined for exceeding its limit, and the initial deposit hasn’t been paid either.

I weakly turned my head toward my husband, David, who stood beside the bed. His face was a mask of concern, but strangely, his attire was impeccable. His shirt was perfectly pressed, his hair sllicked back with expensive gel. He looked like he was heading to a party, not caring for his dying wife.

“Honey,” I called out, my voice cracked and dry.

David sighed deeply. It was his usual gesture whenever he felt I was a burden.

“Valerie, just hang on a little longer. I’ll do whatever I can. You know how tight things are.”

He made the same promise 2 hours ago. The clerk cut him off sharply. If payment isn’t made in the next 30 minutes, we’ll have to transfer you out. We need this bed for another ER patient whose paperwork is already processed.

Her words hit me like a slap. I wasn’t a person here, just an obstacle to the hospital’s business. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, the only part of my body that felt any warmth.

David clutched the phone in his hand. I saw the screen light up for an instant. A message notification. It was a short text, but before I could see who it was from, David hastily turned off the screen.

“I’m going to see if I can get alone,” David said.

He leaned down abruptly and gave me a short kiss on the forehead. It felt cold and rushed.

“I know a lender just around the corner. The interest is high, but we have no other choice. Valerie, for you, I don’t care if I go broke as long as you live.”

His words were sweet, but his eyes weren’t looking at me. His gaze shifted to his wristwatch, then toward the exit.

“Darling, don’t take too long.”

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Wait for me here.”

Without a backward glance, David walked briskly out of the emergency room. His gate seemed too light and energetic for someone going to borrow money. 30 minutes passed. Then an hour.

The pain in my abdomen intensified. It was as if an invisible hand were ringing my insides. But that physical torment was nothing compared to the anguish of realizing David wasn’t coming back. The hospital’s calls to his cell phone went straight to voicemail.

The same administrative clerk returned. This time she was accompanied by two burly security guards.

“Times up, ma’am,” she said coldly. “We can’t reach your husband.”

“This bed is needed for a car accident victim who just arrived.”

But I’m sick. Please, we’re not a charity. Please wait outside or in the lobby until a family member comes and completes the payment.

My gurnie was pushed mercilessly outside, not to a room, but to a drafty, dusty hallway near the exit. Passers by stared at me with a mixture of pity and disgust. I felt like trash that had just been discarded for being useless.

In that precise moment, I realized David hadn’t gone to find money. He had abandoned me. He had left me here to die slowly, to rid himself of the burden of my enormous medical bills. A cold black despair began to consume my consciousness. My vision blurred, the edges darkened.

I guess this is the end. I resigned myself. God, if I have to go, take me now. I’m so tired.

Suddenly, the hustle and bustle of the hospital lobby ceased, as if by magic. Through the main entrance walked five imposing men dressed in expensive black suits. Their presence was so commanding that even the hospital security guard stepped aside to let them pass.

In their midst walked a middle-aged man, his hair graying at the temples, but with a robust build. His face was stern, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if searching for something precious. The sound of his shoes echoed. Expensive leather shoes against the cheap hospital lenolium. Click clack click. The rhythm was decisive and majestic.

My heart beat faintly. Are these the angels of death?

The middle-aged man stopped right in front of my dilapidated gurnie. He looked down at me. His penetrating gaze suddenly softened and his eyes reened. without caring about the dirty floor, the man in the expensive suit knelt beside my bed. He took my skeletal hand riddled with needle marks. And then, as if I were a queen, he reverently kissed the back of my hand. His shoulders trembled as he held back sobs.

“Who are you?” I asked in a voice that was barely audible.

The man lifted his face. Tears streamed down his lined but clean shaven cheeks. He looked at me with profound guilt in his eyes.

“Forgive me, miss,” he said.

His voice trembled, but was heard clearly in the silent hallway.

“This servant, Harrison, I regret finding you so late. I have just completed the paperwork to acquire this entire hospital to ensure you receive the best possible treatment.”

I opened my mouth, stunned and weak. Mister Harrison turned to the hospital director, who had rushed over, pale and nervous. Harrison didn’t stand up. He issued a chilling order that made the entire hospital staff tremble.

“Prepare the penthouse VIP floor. Fly in the best specialists from abroad right now. If a single hair on the miss’s head falls due to your negligence, by tomorrow morning, this hospital will be nothing but ashes.”

Then he looked back at me. His gaze held an immense secret.

“Miss Valerie Hayes, your husband. He didn’t just abandon you. He stole something that should have been yours from the day you were born.”

What did this stranger’s words mean? And what had David been hiding from me all this time?

The dazzling white light I had mistaken for the threshold of the afterlife slowly dimmed, transforming into the warm, serene glow of a crystal chandelier. The nauseating smell of chemicals and blood from the hallway below was gone. In its place floated a subtle aroma of liies and lavender.

My body no longer felt the hardness of the thin er mattress. Now my back rested on a bed so plush it seemed to embrace each of my fragile bones. I blinked. The ceiling of this room was high, adorned with intricate plaster moldings. In a corner, a cream colored leather sofa looked impossibly comfortable. A world away from the hard plastic chairs where David made me wait for hours every time he went to pick up his prescriptions.

“Are you feeling better, miss?” a deep voice asked, soft but filled with profound respect.

I slowly turned my head. The middle-aged man, Harrison, was still there. He stood tall by a massive picture window that offered a panoramic view of the city lights. His black suit was still impeccable, but his face seemed more relaxed than when he was crying in the hallway.

“Where am I?” I asked.

My voice was still, but thanks to the oxygen tube in my nose, breathing was much easier.

“On the top floor of this building, miss, the executive floor reserved for the founding family of the Sterling Corporation, the place that was rightfully yours,” Harrison approached.

As he answered, he poured warm water into a crystal glass, and carefully offered it to me, helping me drink with a straw. As the warm water soothed my throat, a bit of clarity returned to my mind. But Harrison’s words only confused me more.

The Sterling Corporation, my right, Mr. Harrison, I think you have the wrong person. I refuted weakly after drinking. I’m Valerie Hayes, just an orphan who grew up in the foster care system on the outskirts of the city. My husband, David, always said that because I had no roots, I attracted bad luck.

My memory flashed back to 2 months ago when the doctor gave me the first diagnosis. We were in our small, dampwalled rental apartment. David threw the test results on the rickety dining table.

“Look at this, Valerie. A rich person’s disease in a poor person’s body. This has to be from your unknown parents’ genes,” David had yelled.

Then, his eyes red, not with sadness, but with rage.

“You’re a carrier of bad germs. It wasn’t enough to be an orphan and a nuisance. Now you’re going to bankrupt me. I should have listened to my mother when she told me not to marry you.”

Those words were seared into my mind like a branding iron. I believed him. I believed I was a burden. that my lack of parents made me a secondass citizen who deserved to suffer.

Harrison sighed deeply, as if he had read my dark thoughts. He pulled a thick leather folder from his inner pocket and slowly placed it on my lap. Your husband is a very wicked and clever liar, miss. Whenever he mentioned David, Harrison’s tone became cold and sharp.

“You weren’t abandoned. 25 years ago, there was a mass kidnapping of infants from the maternity ward of this very hospital. A hospital that belonged to your grandfather. You disappeared. Your mother passed away a year later from the shock. And your grandfather spent the rest of his life searching for you, his only granddaughter.”

With trembling hands, I opened the folder. Inside was a faded photo of a baby with a crescent-shaped birthark on her left shoulder, the same birthark I had. And then a DNA test report dated 3 years ago.

My eyes widened. 3 years ago? But I just met you today.

“You didn’t take that test,” Miss Harrison cut in quickly, his jaw tight. “Look at the name of the test applicant on the line below.”

My trembling index finger traced the document. There written was a name I knew all too well. The name I had always respected as the head of the household.

Applicant David Chen.

That night, my world collapsed for a second time. David, he knew. Tears began to well up again. But this time, they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of sharp pain and overwhelming confusion.

“He’s known who your family was for 3 years. He accidentally found some old records at the county office from your time in foster care. He secretly took a sample of your hair and ran it against the missing person’s database we had circulated,” Harrison explained.

Harrison clenched his fists, restraining his rage.

“He didn’t tell us and he didn’t tell you. Instead, he saved it as his ace in the hole. He waited for your grandfather, the chairman of the Sterling Corporation, to pass away last month. According to the chairman’s will, if the granddaughter was not found, all assets would be frozen. But if the granddaughter was found deceased, her husband or legal heir could claim a multi-million dollar humanitarian compensation.”

The air was knocked out of my lungs. A wave of extreme nausea turned my stomach. All this time, David wasn’t just lazy. He was waiting for me to die. He let my illness worsen. He refused to take me to a specialist. He gave me only over-the-counter drugs and psychologically pressured me to give up. All his cruel words, all his accusations of bringing bad luck, it was all a script to make me feel worthless and die faster. He didn’t go looking for a loan.

“Miss,” Harrison continued, pulling me from my thoughts.

He picked up the TV remote and turned it on. The large screen on the wall came to life, showing a recording from the hospital’s parking garage security cameras. On the screen, David was walking calmly toward a red sedan parked in a dark corner. The car door opened and a young woman in a tight dress greeted him. David got in and they kissed. Then the car sped out of the parking garage, leaving me to die in the ER.

That woman is? I asked, my voice empty.

“His secretary from the office, David, claimed he was fired from 6 months ago. It turns out he was still working there and was even recently promoted,” Harrison replied.

The pain in my body vanished in an instant, replaced by a fire of rage burning in my chest. My sincere love during 5 years of marriage had become a poison that was slowly killing me. He abandoned me when I needed him most, for another woman, and for the inheritance I would leave upon my death.

I looked at Harrison. The pitiful light in my eyes had changed. In its place grew a new determination, hard as steel.

“Mr. Harrison,” I called.

“Yes, miss.”

“Are all of this hospital’s facilities and my grandfather’s fortune now mine?”

“You are the sole owner of the Sterling Medical Group and all its real estate assets. With a single signature, you could buy your husband’s pride a thousand times over.”

I clenched the silk sheets until my knuckles turned white.

“Then don’t call me miss anymore,” I said coldly. “Help me recover. I want to see David Chen’s face when he realizes the corpse he left behind can rise from the grave.”

“Hrison gave a faint, meaningful smile.”

He bowed respectfully.

“As you command, Chairwoman Hayes. But first, there’s something else you should see in your personal account. we’ve just activated. David was clumsy enough to leave a digital trail.”

What else was that angel-faced demon hiding?

Two weeks passed like a blurry but beautiful dream. I no longer woke up to rain water dripping on my face from a leaky ceiling or to the shouts of debt collectors banging on the metal door of our rental apartment. Instead, each morning I was awakened by sunbeams filtering through thick silk curtains and the aroma of the finest consémé served on a silver tray.

The medical team summoned by Harrison worked with astonishing efficiency. The surgery to remove the toxins from my body was a success. The inflammation in my kidneys and liver was not due to a genetic disease, but to a foreign substance that had accumulated in my system. I felt a new energy flowing through my body, which before had seemed too fragile, as if it refused to live.

Thanks to vitamin infusions and intensive skin care provided by a team of dedicated nurses, the blush returned to my cheeks, which were once as pale as a corpse’s.

This morning, for the first time, Harrison allowed me to get out of bed without a wheelchair.

“This way, chairwoman Hayes. I had them replace the bathroom mirror with a larger one so you can see your true self,” Harrison said as he opened the door to a spacious bathroom that was twice the size of our old apartment.

I walked in, my bare feet on the warm marble floor. In front of the floor toseeiling mirror, I froze, my breath caught in my throat. The woman staring back at me was a stranger. My hair, once dry and brittle and usually thrown into a messy bun, was now a cascade of shiny black waves that reached my back thanks to the stylist they had brought to my room. My skin, once dry and flaky, was now hydrated and radiant. My cheekbones, once prominent from malnutrition, now looked elegant and determined, framing sharp, round eyes. Filled with questions instead of fear, I touched my cheek.

This is me.

“That is the true face of the Sterling Corporation’s Aerys,” said Harrison, standing in the doorway, smiling with pride. “Poverty and suffering hid it for a while, but blood doesn’t lie.”

I turned to Harrison. The astonishment slowly faded, replaced by the bitter reality that was once again taking hold of me. The reason I was here, the betrayal, made all this beauty and wealth feel empty.

“You said David left a digital trail,” I said, ignoring Harrison’s compliment and getting straight to the point.

I walked to the sofa and sat down with a straight back, a new posture I had learned instinctively. Harrison nodded, took out a slim tablet, and placed it on the table in front of me. The screen lit up showing a series of bank statements and online purchase records.

“We traced your husband’s, more accurately, your ex-husband’s cell phone activity after he abandoned you at the ER that night,” Harrison explained, his elderly fingers swiped across the screen. “Look at this.”

My eyes widened at the figures and locations. At the exact time I was dying, and he claimed he was going to borrow money from a lender, David had spent $1,500 at a luxury jewelry boutique downtown.

My voice broke. He told me we didn’t have money to pay the electricity bill. He said we had to fast on Mondays and Thursdays to save money. And it turns out he had $15,500 in a secret account.

“And look at this online ride share booking history,” Harrison continued mercilessly.

The trip history showed a consistent pattern. Every time David said he was leaving for a night shift or a weekend job, he was actually heading to a luxury apartment on the Upper East Side. It wasn’t the office, the factory, or the construction site he told me about with a pitiable face.

Vidian Apartments, sweet 1208, I read softly. Rented in the name of a woman named Ashley, the secretary you saw in the security footage, Harrison added.

With trembling hands, I picked up the new phone Harrison had placed on the table. My old phone with the cracked screen had already been thrown away. With stiff fingers, I dialed David’s number, which I knew by heart the number whose ringtone I had once so anxiously awaited. Beep. The cold mechanical tone answered.

The number you have dialed is not in service.

I tried again with the same result. He had changed his number, discarded me. He would think I was dead, without family, cremated by social services.

“It’s no use, chairwoman,” Harrison said, his voice soft but firm. “He has already changed his number to him. The poor sick Valerie Hayes is a thing of the past.”

I slowly put the phone down. This time I didn’t cry. I just felt a cold sensation spreading from my feet to my head. A serene but lethal coldness.

“Mr. Harrison,” I called.

“Yes, chairwoman.”

“What is the total amount of liquid assets I can access today?”

Harrison typed something on the tablet and showed it to me. The number of zeros was so long I had to count it twice. an amount that could buy David’s pride and more. Even the lives of his descendants to the seventh generation.

“Your access is unlimited. Your black VIP card was activated this morning.”

I stood up and walked back to the mirror. I looked at myself again. This time, I didn’t see a victim. I saw a predator who had just woken from a long sleep.

“Get the car ready.” My voice was firm and irrefutable. “And tell the IT team to track the current location of David’s new cell phone. I trust you’re already monitoring it.”

Harrison smiled broadly this time. It was a terrifying smile.

“We’ve already located him, chairwoman. He’s at a nightclub right now. It seems he’s celebrating his financial freedom.”

“Perfect,” I said, picking up the soft fur coat hanging on a chair. “Let’s go there, but not as Valerie Hayes, David Chen’s wife. That Valerie died in a hospital hallway.”

“And how will you introduce yourself?”

I turned and gave a cold, slight smile as his nightmare.

On the tablet screen, which was still on, a red dot blinked, indicating David’s location. A quiet dot, unaware that a storm was heading straight for it.

The black sedan I was riding in glided silently through the rain sllicked streets of the city. Inside the car, which smelled of high-end leather, I sat in silence, watching the street through the tinted windows. I used to look at luxury cars like this from the hot, dusty windows of public transport, counting the coins in my purse to buy something for dinner. Now I was sitting as the owner of this car, but my heart felt much emptier than when I was poor.

“We have arrived at our destination chairwoman.” Harrison’s voice broke the silence.

The personal driver opened the door for me. We stopped in front of a tall building with a striking neon sign that read Zenith. This was the most exclusive club in the city, a place where high-ranking officials and businessmen spent in one night what it took me to live for a whole year.

I stepped out. The night air brushed against my face, now covered in elegant makeup. The black silk dress that enveloped my body swayed slightly. The high heels forced me to maintain an upright posture. I was completely different from the old Valerie, who always walked with her head down, intimidated.

The burly bouncers, who were usually intimidating, bowed respectfully upon seeing Harrison behind me. Without any checks, they guided us through a special corridor that led to a private balcony area on the second floor with a direct view of the dance floor below. The music boomed so loudly it made my heart vibrate, and the dazzling lights spun dizzily, but my eyes were fixed on one spot among the crowd at the VIP tables below.

There he sat, David Chen. He was wearing a shiny gray suit I had never seen before. On his wrist, a gold watch flashed every time the light hit it. He didn’t look sad. There wasn’t a shadow of grief on the face of the man who had abandoned his dying wife in a hospital 2 weeks earlier. On the contrary, he was smiling. A broad smile that showed all his teeth. That smile, which in our difficult times had always reassured me, now sounded like the edge of a knife scraping my eardrums.

Beside him sat a woman in a scarlet red dress. Ashley. The woman clung coetishly to David’s arm. She whispered something that made him laugh even harder.

“Mr. Harrison,” I whispered without taking my eyes off them. “Is the listening device working?”

Harrison handed me a small wireless earpiece with total clarity.

“Chairwoman. I had one of my men place a microphone under their table 10 minutes ago.”

I put the earpiece in my right ear. Immediately, the noise of the music around me faded. Instead, the conversation from David’s table filled my ears as clear as if I were sitting next to them.

“Honey, are you sure that Valerie person is really dead?” Ashley’s syrupy voice reached my ears.

I held my breath. I gripped the balcony railing.

David’s voice sounded carefree between sips of alcohol.

“Of course, she is Ashley. You think she could have survived? Her kidneys were shot. Her liver was inflamed and she didn’t have a penny. The hospital has probably already sent her to social services or had her cremated as an unidentified body. I turned off my phone on purpose so they couldn’t bill me for the body disposal fees.”

My blood boiled. I felt heat rise to my head. Not only had he abandoned me, but he had no intention of even collecting my body if I had really died.

“You’re so bad.” Ashley giggled softly.

Her tone wasn’t one of reproach, but rather seduction.

“So, when can we collect the insurance? You said the life insurance policy in Valerie’s name was for $3 million.”

“Patience,” David replied. “Let’s wait another month so we don’t raise suspicion. I’ll go to the hospital, pretend to cry a little, and get the death certificate. After that, the $3 million will come in, and we’ll move somewhere else, maybe Europe, like we planned. No more parasitic wife who only consumes resources.”

Tears fell, not of sadness, but of extreme repulsion. All this time, behind my back, he had been paying the premiums on an expensive life insurance policy in my name. Meanwhile, he claimed we had no money for daily expenses. So that poison, he tried to poison me for $3 million.

I looked down again. David raised his glass.

“to our future,” Ashley. “And to Valerie, after making my life hell for 5 years, may she rest in hell,”

David shouted loudly.

And they both clinkedked their glasses and laughed like madmen.

Without realizing it, I broke the wine glass I was holding. The glass shards tore my palm, and drops of blood fell onto the velvet carpet. Harrison quickly approached with a handkerchief.

“Chairwoman, your hand.”

“Leave it,” I said coldly.

The sting in my palm helped me focus. This pain reminded me that I was still alive and that this was real. I looked at the red blood soaking the white handkerchief, the same color as that adulteress’s dress, the same color as my husband’s rotten ambition, Mr. Harrison. My voice trembled, containing the rage that was about to erupt.

“Yes, Chairwoman Hayes.”

I gestured with my chin towards David below.

“Who owns this building? Who owns the club where this scum is partying?”

Harrison consulted his tablet for a moment.

“This building is owned by a business partner of the Sterling Corporation. Chairwoman, In fact, the lease expires next month, and the owner is in urgent need of liquidity,”

I smirked, a smile I had never made in my life. The smile of a predator who has just located her prey.

“Buy it,” I ordered dryly. “Buy this building tonight. Double the price if necessary, as long as the title is in my name by dawn.”

Harrison looked surprised, but his eyes showed admiration.

“It will be done immediately.”

“And what is your plan once the building is yours, chairwoman?”

I looked at David, who was now drunkenly dancing with Ashley. They looked so happy over my suffering.

“Tomorrow morning, make sure David Chen receives a special invitation from the new owner of this building,” I whispered harshly. “Tell him there’s a mysterious investor interested in his fraudulent business. I want him to crawl to me and put his own neck in the noose. I’ve prepared.”

I turned and left the balcony behind. My back was straight. The weeping Valerie Hayes had just died along with the pieces of broken glass. From now on, the game had begun, and I held the dice.

“Proceed,” I told Harrison as he opened the door for me.

“Understood, boss.”

That morning, the New York sun felt different. It wasn’t the heat that burned my skin when I had to walk to the market, but a warmth that reflected beautifully on the floor to ceiling windows of the 40th floor office building that was now mine.

I stood in front of the large mirror in the CEO’s office. My appearance had completely changed. My black hair was now swept up into a modern shiny, revealing a long neck adorned with a diamond necklace worth more than my old apartment’s rent. My face had been perfectly made up by a professional makeup artist, accentuating my jawline and sharp eyes, hiding any trace of the poor wife, Valerie Hayes. My body was clad in a dark red powers suit by a renowned designer. It radiated an undeniable aura of authority.

“Perfect,” whispered Harrison, who stood near the door. “The meeting is scheduled in 5 minutes, chairwoman Regina.”

I had chosen the name Regina. similar, but it sounded more elegant. A name that would become David’s nightmare.

“Show him in,” I ordered as I swiveled the massive chair to face away from the door, looking out at the panoramic view of the city.

My heart was racing, not from fear, but from adrenaline. I was about to meet my husband again.

The double tewood doors opened. I heard the sound of hesitant footsteps entering the spacious, cold room.

“Good morning. May I come in?” I heard David’s voice.

There was a hint of nervousness I had rarely heard from him. Usually he was the one who yelled, but now his voice was as small as a mouse’s.

Harrison greeted him.

“Mr. Chen, welcome. Please have a seat. Chairwoman Regina is expecting you.”

I heard the sound of a chair being pulled out. There were a few seconds of silence in the room. I let him wait. I let the anxiety take over his mind. In the world of business and revenge, the one with the most patience wins.

Slowly, I swiveled the chair around. As my face met his, I saw David’s reaction. His eyes widened. His mouth fell slightly open. He scanned me from head to toe with a mixture of greed and admiration. He didn’t see Valerie Hayes. He saw money, power. He saw a high society woman out of his league. His filthy mind would not be able to connect the majestic woman before him with the disheveled wife he had left to die in the ER. Poverty had made my old face look gaunt and pale. Wealth, on the other hand, had sculpted me into a brilliant marble statue.

“Good morning, Mr. Chen,” I greeted.

I made my voice deeper and more authoritative. I erased the soft accent I used at home.

“Uh, good morning, Chairwoman Regina,” he stammered in response.

He hastily adjusted his cheap tie, trying to look presentable.

“It’s an honor for an investor like you to summon me. I was very surprised when your assistant contacted me this morning.”

“I hear you’re looking for funding for a real estate project,” I said, glancing at the fake business proposal he had submitted to several banks, all of which except me had rejected.

“That’s right, chairwoman.”

David began to pontificate. His silver tongue started to flow.

“If I have a partner who believes in me, I guarantee we’ll double our profits in a year.”

I gave a slight smile. Visions are cheap, Mr. Chen. What I need is collateral. I stood up and slowly walked around the desk, approaching him. David seemed entranced as my expensive perfume wafted through the air. He swallowed hard when I stopped a meter away from him.

“I’m willing to invest $10 million in your new company,” I said casually.

David’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“10 $10 million,”

but I cut him off.

“There’s a condition,”

“anything, chairwoman. I can meet any condition,”

he exclaimed without thinking. Greed had paralyzed his reason.

“I need someone with the guts to take risks. This contract stipulates that if the project fails within 6 months, all your personal assets, including future assets, like any insurance or inheritance you might receive, will become the property of my company with an additional 50% interest.”

I stared him straight in the eyes.

“Do you have the guts to sign?”

David seemed to think for a moment. He was surely calculating the $3 million from my death insurance. He thought it was a sure thing. He thought if the business failed, he could pay off the debt with his wife’s death money. How ironic.

“I do, chairwoman,” he replied firmly. “I’m certain this business will be a success.”

“Good.”

I handed him a gold fountain pen.

As David reached for the pen, our fingers brushed. There was a moment of silence. David slightly withdrew his hand, frowning and looking at me.

“Excuse me, chairwoman, have we met before?” he asked hesitantly. “Your eyes remind me of someone.”

My heart seemed to stop for an instant. Was my disguise blown? But I immediately regained my composure. I laughed softly, a cool, elegant laugh.

“You’ve probably seen me in business magazines or at some gala.”

I excused myself nonchalantly. My face must be quite common to those who tend to have vain illusions. He didn’t catch the sarcasm. David also laughed awkwardly, feeling foolish for having associated the wealthy investor with someone from his past.

H, it couldn’t be. The woman I knew was a wreck. She can’t be compared to an angel like you, chairwoman, he said as he quickly signed the contract. A wreck. My heart clenched hearing the nickname he had given me.

“It’s valid now,” I said, taking back the documents.

The trap was set and David’s neck was in it.

David stood up to shake my hand.

“Thank you for your trust, chairwoman Regina. I won’t disappoint you. To celebrate this collaboration, may I invite you to dinner?”

What a shameless man. His wife hadn’t even been officially declared dead, and he was already flirting with another woman in front of her. I took his hand. My grip was strong. I squeezed the bones of his fingers a little harder than necessary.

“Save your money, Mr. Chen. You’ll need it later,” I replied meaningfully. “Now leave. I’m busy.”

David left with a radiant face, as if he had won the lottery. He didn’t know he had just signed his own death warrant.

As soon as the door closed, Harrison re-entered.

“A magnificent performance, chairwoman. He fell right into the trap.”

I looked at the palm of the hand I had just shaken his with.

“I felt the urge to wash it with hydrochloric acid. This is just the beginning, Mr. comparison,” I said coldly. “Now execute phase two. Make it seem like the real estate project is going smoothly for the first month. And from the second month, start to slowly sink it. And one more thing.”

“Yes, chairwoman.”

“Send a package to our old apartment. Let the sender be an old friend. He forgot. I want to see him panic.”

This game of cat and mouse was becoming more and more interesting.

The toxicologist’s office on the special floor of the hospital was shrouded in a suffocating silence. Only the ticking of the wall clock in sync with my irregular heartbeat could be heard in front of me. Doctor Evans, the top poison expert Harrison had flown in from Singapore, stared at the analysis results with a furrowed brow.

“Chairwoman Regina,” he said, using my new name, and began to speak cautiously.

He took off his glasses and looked at me with an unreadable expression, a mixture of compassion and horror.

“In analyzing your hair, nails, and the residue from your kidney that we recently removed, we found something highly abnormal.”

I clutched my purse tightly.

“Tell me straight, doctor. Has the cancer spread or is my kidney failure permanent?”

Dr. Evans slowly shook his head.

“It’s not cancer, and your kidney failure is not due to a degenerative disease or your diet.”

He handed me a sheet of paper where a red graph shot upwards.

“We’ve detected very high levels of arsenic in your system. This is not accidental environmental exposure. The pattern indicates it was administered in small, regular, daily doses for at least the last 6 months.”

My world stopped. Arsenic, rat poison. Are you saying someone has been poisoning me? I asked, a lump in my throat. My mouth suddenly felt dry. It was as if I could feel that bitter metallic taste at the back of my tongue again.

“Exactly. Arsenic is tasteless and odorless and dissolves well in hot water. The symptoms mimic a common illness. Nausea, vomiting, hair loss, skin darkening, and a slow damage to internal organs. The culprit was very methodical and patient. They didn’t want you to die quickly. They wanted to kill you slowly so it would look like a natural death and avoid an autopsy.”

My blood ran cold. My memory flew back to the past, to the small kitchen of our damp rental apartment. For the past 6 months, every night, David had always been so caring.

“Valerie, drink this herbal tonic. I bought it expensively, so you’ll get better soon,”

I remembered David saying, handing me a mug of a murky, warm liquid. I remembered how he always waited until I drank the last drop. I remembered his smile when I winced, holding back nausea after drinking it. I thought it was the encouraging smile of a devoted husband. It turned out to be the satisfied smile of a murderer watching his victim swallow the bait.

David Chen, I whispered, the name tasting like filth on my tongue.

Harrison, standing in a corner, stepped forward, his face was red with suppressed rage.

“That bastard. No wonder he was so sure you were going to die and refused to seek further treatment. He knew exactly what he was feeding you.”

He didn’t just abandon me, I whispered. Tears of rage falling one by one. He tried to kill me. My husband, the man who slept beside me every night, was poisoning my drink while telling me,

“I love you.”

The pain of betrayal from before was nothing compared to this. This was pure evil. David wasn’t human. He was a demon in a mask. He wasn’t caring for me out of love, but to ensure he administered the dose of poison on time.

“Doctor,” I said, wiping my tears abruptly. “Is this medical evidence enough to put him in jail?”

“It’s enough to start an investigation, chairwoman, but to charge him with premeditated attempted murder, the police will need physical evidence. The container that held the poison or remnants of the drink you used to take.”

I froze. Remnants of the drink. The glass jar, I exclaimed. There’s a glass jar in the top kitchen cabinet of the rental apartment. David said it was a special herbal powder that couldn’t be exposed to sunlight. It was half full when they took me to the hospital.

I turned quickly to Harrison.

“Mr. Harrison, has David cleared out that apartment yet?”

Harrison quickly checked his phone.

“Not yet, chairwoman. According to the field team’s report, David hasn’t been back there since you were hospitalized. He’s been too busy splurging in his new apartment.”

But but what?

“The lease expires the day after tomorrow. The landlord has threatened to throw everything out if the belongings aren’t removed by then.”

My heart began to race again. If the landlord cleaned out that house and threw that jar in the trash, the crucial proof that David poisoned me would be gone forever. Without that jar, David could claim I got food poisoning from street food or any other excuse.

I jumped up, ignoring a slight dizziness.

“Get the car ready. We’re going to that apartment right now,” I ordered.

“But chairwoman, your condition isn’t stable enough for you to be exposed to emotional stress or such an unhealthy environment. It’s not safe for you now.”

Harrison tried to stop me, concerned.

“To hell with safety,” I yelled.

Rage gave me strength in an instant. My life almost ended at that man’s hands. I’m not letting him get away with it because I’m afraid of getting dirty. I will collect the evidence of his crime myself.

Harrison, seeing my irrefutable gaze, was silent for a moment, then nodded obediently.

An hour later, my luxurious sedan pulled up at the entrance of a narrow, muddy alley. The sky was overcast, reflecting my somber mood. The neighbors eyed the gleaming car parked there suspiciously. Not in their wildest dreams would they imagine that inside was the neighbor they always gossiped about for being poor.

I put on a large black face mask and a wide-brimmed hat to cover most of my face, observing the surroundings with sharp eyes.

“Harrison and two bodyguards prepared to get out.”

“Wait here. Only Mr. Harrison and I will go in.”

“We’ll attract too much attention,” I whispered.

We walked down the narrow alley that rire of sewage. My steps were firm towards house number 13b. The rusty iron gate was the same, the peeling paint on the walls, too, the place where I was slowly dying. Harrison picked the lock with ease. The door opened with a painful creek.

A musty smell hit us straight in the nose. The room was a mess. My old clothes were scattered on the floor. David must have rummaged through the closet, looking for what little money I might have hidden.

I went straight to the kitchen. My heart pounded in my hand as I grabbed the knob of the old top cabinet. Please, God, let the proof still be there. The cabinet door opened. It was empty. My breath hitched. The shelf was bare. The glass jar with the lethal herbal powder was not in its place.

“Damn it,” I cursed. It seems he’s already thrown it out.

“Chairwoman,” Harrison said, touching my shoulder and pointing to an overturned plastic trash can in a corner of the kitchen.

Among instant noodle wrappers and rotting garbage, I could see shards of shiny glass and scattered there, a yellowish white powder that was starting to clump from the humidity. I knelt down. I didn’t care that my expensive dress got dirty on the greasy kitchen floor. Using a handkerchief, I carefully collected the remnants of the powder.

“This is it,” I whispered with a trembling voice. “His murder weapon.”

But just as I was about to stand up, the sound of a motorcycle stopped right in front of the house’s fence. A very familiar sound. It was the sound of David’s old motorcycle.

“Ah, I forgot the keys.”

We heard David complain outside the house. The sound of footsteps approached the front door.

Harrison and I were trapped in the kitchen. There was no other exit than the front door that my husband, that coldblooded killer, was about to open. How could I get out of here without my identity being discovered?

Harrison’s breath was a low pant in my ear. His strong right hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into the narrow bathroom located right next to the kitchen. The plastic bathroom door with its broken hinges closed slowly without a sound, leaving only a pin-ized crack to look out from.

The smell of cheap soap and the moldy floor of this tiny space rekindled my past traumas. It was here that I used to cry in secret when David forgot to pay the water bill, and we were without it for days. But now, I was no longer the weeping wife. I was a hunter, hiding in the wolf’s den.

David’s footsteps echoed heavily on the cracked tile floor. He walked into the living room whistling, a whistle that indicated he was in a good mood.

“Damn, Hvel,” he complained loudly.

His voice rumbled into the kitchen, hot, smelly, and cramped. Good thing I’ll soon be free of this shack of pain.

Through the crack in the door, I saw the shadow of his back pass by. He was wearing an expensive looking silk shirt, surely bought with the advance from the $10 million I had just deposited yesterday. How ironic. Insulting the house where we live together with my own money.

David rummaged through the living room drawers.

“Where the hell is the storage key? I swear I left it here yesterday.”

My heart was beating like crazy. It felt like it was going to burst out of my ribs. In my hand, I clutched the handkerchief with the arsenic powder. If David came into the kitchen, or worse, if he came into the bathroom to relieve himself, my disguise would be over. He would find me hiding with a strange man, and my entire revenge plan would be shattered.

Harrison put his index finger to his lips, signaling me to hold my breath. His eyes were full of alert, and his hand was ready inside his jacket, as if he were holding a weapon just in case.

Ring, ring. David’s phone rang shrilly. He answered with an arrogant tone.

“Yeah. Yes, site manager. What? Missing materials? Well, buy them. I already sent you the money. Don’t bother me with trifles. I’m not a grunt anymore. I’m a CEO,”

he shouted sharply.

He hung up the phone with irritation. Then his gaze fell on a nail on the wall near the exit.

“Ah, there’s the key.”

David grabbed the hanging key without even looking towards the kitchen, turned around and left. We heard the loud slam of the front door and the sound of the motorcycle speeding away.

I collapsed onto the wet bathroom floor. My legs wouldn’t support me. Harrison immediately helped me up and brushed the dust off my expensive dress.

“Are you all right, chairwoman?” he asked worriedly.

I nodded, catching my breath. The fear from a moment ago slowly dissipated, and a new wave of hatred took its place. I had just heard everything he said. Shack of pain. He called the house where we built our dreams a shack of pain.

Let’s get out of here, mister Harrison. I said coldly. We have the evidence. Now it’s his turn to taste the pain.

Back in my magnificent office, I wasted no time. The poisonous powder was delivered to a private forensic lab to ensure the chain of custody. Now it was time to play the investor card. I sat in my CEO chair and looked at the computer screen showing the data for David’s real estate project.

How’s the status of the permits? I asked Harrison.

“It’s being handled. Chairwoman, the city planning department will hold the building permit for David’s project site, citing an old land dispute. The official notification of the project freeze will arrive on his desk this afternoon.”

“Good,” I smirked. He’s already bought the materials, rented the heavy machinery, and paid in advance to the workers with my capital. If the project stops, that money will evaporate.

“And according to the contract,” Harrison continued, “if the project is delayed more than 2 weeks, he will have to return the capital plus a penalty. He’ll be cornered.”

Not enough. I cut him off. I picked up a new prepaid phone. I wanted to destroy his mind before I destroyed his wallet. I opened the messaging app, entered David’s new number, and typed a short sentence that would keep him up tonight. Message sent.

Darling David, that herbal tonic you made me was delicious. Too bad the jar broke in the kitchen, but don’t worry, I kept what was left safe.

I pressed send.

Across town in his small, newly rented office, David was sitting nonchalantly with his feet up on the desk. He felt on top of the world. His new secretary wasn’t Ashley, whom he had left at his old office as a lookout. The new secretary had just brought him a coffee. On his desk, his phone buzzed, a message notification. David glanced at it with annoyance, thinking it would be a congratulatory message from a colleague. He picked up the phone, unlocked it, and read the message from an unknown number.

David’s face, which until a moment ago was flushed with euphoria, suddenly turned as pale as paper. His eyes widened as he read the words, “Herbal tonic, broken jar, crash.” The coffee cup in his hand fell, staining the floor and his expensive shoes.

“It can’t be,” he moaned.

His lips trembled.

“Who? Who is this?”

With trembling fingers, he hurried to reply.

“Who are you?”

“This isn’t funny.”

An instant later, another reply came. This time, it wasn’t a text, but a photo. a photo of a yellowish powder on a white handkerchief with the background of the familiar tile floor of his old apartment. Below the photo, a text that read,

“Your wife says, “Hello from hell.””

David, in a panic, threw the phone against the wall. His breathing quickened. Cold sweat the size of corn kernels ran down his temples. Valerie was dead. He was sure of it. He left her dying in a coma. It was impossible for her to have survived.

So, who was it? A ghost? or was there someone else who knew his secret?

Knock knock. A knock at the office door. David jumped.

“Who is it?” He shouted hysterically.

An employee entered with a scared face.

“Sorry, sir. A notice came from the city. They say our project has been temporarily suspended due to a land issue.”

David collapsed into his chair. He felt like his head was going to explode. On one hand, the terror of a ghost. on the other the disaster of his business. He felt as if the office walls were closing in, slowly pushing him toward madness.

In the office across from him, I saw the message marked as red. I put the phone down silently. He was already caught in the spiral of terror.

“Mr. Harrison,” I said softly, “Get the car ready now. I want to visit our panicked investor as Regina to show my disappointment in his poor performance.”

Harrison smiled.

“You really know how to torture people, chairwoman.”

I learned from the best, I replied, looking at a half-burned wedding photo with David from my own husband. But what I didn’t know yet was that David, cornered, would commit an act far more dangerous and reckless than putting poison in a drink.

That afternoon, a torrential rain fell on New York City. It was as if the sky was also weeping for the miserable figure of the man standing drenched in front of the hospital information desk. David Chen, whose hair used to be impeccably sllicked back with expensive gel, now looked like a mad man. His hair was matted. His bloodshot eyes darted with madness, and his breathing was ragged and shallow.

“Check again,” David shouted, slamming his fist hard on the marble counter.

Several hospital visitors turned in surprise.

“My wife’s name is Valerie Hayes. She was admitted to the ER two weeks ago. I need a death certificate. I have to claim the insurance.”

The nurse at the counter was frightened, but her fingers kept dancing over the computer keyboard.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve checked our database three times,” the nurse replied with a trembling voice. “There is no deceased patient named Valerie Hayes on that date. There’s no record of admission or discharge.”

“Liar!” David screamed hysterically.

He grabbed the nurse by the collar of her uniform, but two burly security guards quickly subdued him from behind.

“Let go of me. My wife died here. I left her in that hallway.”

David raved, now pointing to the empty ER hallway. You must have hidden the body or thrown it in the river.

“Sir, if you don’t calm down, we will call the police.”

One of the guards threatened as they dragged David out of the lobby.

David was thrown onto the muddy asphalt of the parking lot. He sat on the hard ground. The rain soaked him instantly. It was cold, but that coldness was nothing compared to the terror that chilled his blood. Missing records. If Valerie wasn’t registered as deceased, it meant she was still alive.

But how?

That woman was dying. She didn’t have a scent. Who had helped her? And that threatening message, the photo of the poison powder. Arg. David grabbed his hair in frustration. The vision of Valerie returning from the grave to take revenge constantly haunted him. He felt watched from every dark corner of the parking lot.

In the midst of his panic, the phone in his wet jacket pocket vibrated for a long time. David took out the phone with trembling hands. The screen lit up, showing the name that had now become his other greatest source of terror.

Office of Chairwoman Regina.

David swallowed hard and brought the phone to his ear.

“Yes, Mr. Chen.” The woman’s voice on the other end was cold and professional. “Chairwoman Regina has asked me to relay an urgent message. Given that your project has been officially suspended by the government as of today, I am informing you that according to clause 2, chapter 5 of the contract, your company is in a state of default.”

David’s heart seemed to stop.

Wait a minute, ma’am. Can I explain? It’s just a small administrative problem.

“Chairwoman Regina does not need explanations.” The voice cut in sharply. “She wants her money back. The capital of $10 million plus a 20% penalty, which totals $12 million. The payment deadline is tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. If the funds have not been transferred by then, our legal team will proceed to seize all your personal assets and sue you for investment fraud.”

The call was unilaterally disconnected.

David stood frozen in the rain. The phone slipped from his hand and fell into a puddle. 12 million by tomorrow morning. He checked his balance in the banking app on his cracked phone. He only had $50,000 left. The rest he had already spent on renting a luxury office, buying a sports car, online gambling, and showering Ashley with gifts.

He was bankrupt. He was completely finished.

If he didn’t pay, he would go to jail. If the police investigated his assets, they might find the trail of the arsenic purchase. If Valerie’s ghost really reported him, jail or death. Those were the only options.

David staggered to his car, got in, slammed the door, and isolated himself from the outside world. In the silence of the car, he punched the steering wheel, sobbing. He blamed everyone, the stupid site manager, the city council, Valerie, for not dying quickly, and especially that woman, Regina.

“It’s because of that crazy investor that I’m in this mess. She set me up with a diabolical contract,”

David muttered bitterly, staring through the rain blurred windshield.

Then a dark thought crossed his mind. A thought much more sinister than when he decided to poison Valerie. If Regina dies, the contract could be legally voided. Or at least it would create enough chaos in her company to give me time to flee the country. Regina was a single woman. She didn’t seem to have a husband or children. If she disappeared, who would claim the debt from him?

David opened the car’s glove compartment. Hidden there was a tactical folding knife he had bought for show. He took out the knife, flicking open the sharp, shiny blade.

“You think you can stomp on me, Regina?” David whispered to his own reflection in the rear view mirror.

His face no longer showed fear, but the determination of a cornered killer. He remembered that tomorrow night, Regina was hosting a corporate gala to celebrate the acquisition of her new building, the same club building where David had been partying. Regina had invited all her business partners, including him. It was the perfect opportunity in the crowd or when that arrogant woman let her guard down backstage.

I’ll shut your mouth forever, Regina.

David growled.

And then I’ll find where Valerie’s body is hidden and burn it to ashes.

He started the car. The roar of the engine sounded wild, matching the evil intent that now completely dominated his soul. David didn’t know he wasn’t planning the murder of a stranger, but walking straight to the gallows his own wife had prepared.

Far away in a black sedan parked out of sight, I lowered my binoculars. He has entered the phase where he has completely lost his mind.

“Chairwoman,” Harrison reported from the front seat. “He seems very dangerous.”

“Let him,” I replied coldly from the back seat. A drowning man will grasp at anything to survive. Beef up the security for tomorrow night’s event, but leave a small opening. Let him get close to me.

“Are you sure? It’s risky.”

I want to see his eyes when he realizes who he’s trying to kill. Mr. Harrison, I want him to see Valerie inside Regina before I destroy him.

I continued, ordering. Our car started to move slowly, leaving behind David, who was sharpening his knife in the dark.

The grand ballroom of the skyscraper had been transformed into a sea of opulence. Hundreds of guests, high-ranking officials, top tier entrepreneurs, and members of high society, dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos, mingled, holding glasses of champagne that sparkled under the lights of a massive chandelier. The soft melody of an orchestra created an elegant atmosphere, but it contrasted sharply with the storm raging in David’s chest.

David entered with trembling legs. The tuxedo he wore seemed to choke him, and a cold sweat constantly ran down his back. Even though the air conditioning was at full blast, his eyes, instead of admiring the expensive imported floral decorations, frantically scanned the room for his target. His hand, in the right pocket of his jacket, clutched the hilt of the sharp knife.

Tonight has to end it.

David repeated that mantra over and over to ward off fear. Kill Regina, and when panic ensues, escape through the emergency exit.

Across the room stood a magnificent stage. And there she was, Regina. She wore a golden evening gown that fit her body perfectly, shining like a goddess among common people. She laughed animatedly with several foreign investors. She seemed so authoritative and unattainable.

David’s blood boiled. The woman who had ruined him, the woman who had made him be haunted by his wife’s ghost.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed. A spotlight turned to the stage. The music ceased. Regina walked to the microphone. A confident smile adorned her scarlet red lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good evening.”

Her voice resonated, sorous and majestic.

“Thank you for coming to celebrate the acquisition of this building. Tonight is not just about business, but about revealing the truth.”

David pushed his way through the crowd, getting closer to the front of the stage. Now the distance was barely 15 ft. He calculated the steps. Three running steps, a leap, stab in the neck, quick and lethal.

“But before we toast,” Regina continued, her eyes suddenly locked directly onto David, who stood in the crowd. The gaze was sharp, penetrating, and strangely familiar. “I would like to invite one of my business partners to the stage. Someone who has taught me the meaning of patience and suffering. Mr. David Chen, please come up.”

David’s heart seemed to stop. The spotlight suddenly illuminated his pale face. Thunderous applause erupted. David froze. He didn’t expect to be called up, but his criminal brain saw this as the perfect opportunity. He didn’t need to push through guards. He had been invited to get close.

With a forced, stiff smile, David climbed the steps of the stage. His hand was still in his pocket, gripping the knife.

“You asked for it, Regina. You’re digging your own grave,”

he thought cunningly.

When David stood right next to Regina, he could smell the woman’s perfume, an aroma of lilies and lavender. That scent? Wait a minute. Why did that scent remind him of the cheap detergent Valerie used to use?

Mr. Chen, Regina whispered low enough for only the two of them to hear without the microphone.

“You seem nervous. Are you afraid of seeing a ghost?”

David stiffened. Cut the crap, you David growled softly. His eyes revealed his murderous intent.

Regina laughed softly, a cold, piercing laugh. She turned back to the microphone, facing the hundreds of guests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this man beside me has a truly incredible business plan, but unfortunately, his morality is extremely low.”

Regina snapped her fingers.

“Play the recording.”

The giant screen behind the stage lit up, showing not stock charts, but an audio wave. The next moment, David’s drunken voice from the club boomed throughout the hall through concert speakers.

Of course she is. Ashley, you think she could have survived? Her kidneys were shot. Her liver was inflamed. I turned off my phone on purpose so they couldn’t bill me for the body disposal fees after making my life hell. May she rest in hell.

The hall fell into a deathly silence, as if a plague had descended upon it. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at David with disgust and horror. David’s face went from pale to red with rage and humiliation. His secret had been exposed before the elite of New York.

“You set me up!” David shouted, his reason shattering in an instant. “Die!”

David pulled the folding knife from his pocket. The metal blade gleamed under the spotlights. Hysterical screams erupted from the female guests. David lunged forward, brandishing the knife towards Regina’s chest.

But Regina didn’t flinch. She didn’t retreat a single step.

Just before the tip of the knife touched her golden dress, a sturdy hand grabbed David’s wrist from behind. Harrison had appeared out of nowhere, twisting David’s hand until a horrible crack was heard. The knife clattered to the stage floor.

“Ah!” David screamed in pain.

His knees were forced to the ground by Harrison. Regina looked down at the now helpless David, kneeling at her feet. She signaled to Harrison not to take him away immediately. Regina bent down. Her face was now in front of her husband’s, covered in sweat and tears of pain.

“Trying to kill me again, darling?” Regina asked softly.

David, panting, lifted his head.

“Again? What are you talking about?”

Slowly, Regina brought her hands to her head, removed the diamond encrusted hair pin that held her elaborate updo. Her long black hair fell, covering part of her face. Then, she pulled a wet wipe from Harrison’s pocket. With a swift motion, she wiped the thick makeup from her right cheek, revealing a small mole under her eye, a mole David knew all too well.

She looked at him with moist eyes. The same eyes that had looked at him with love for 5 years before the betrayal.

“Look at me closely, David Chen,” she said in Valerie’s original voice.

Her soft accent had returned, but now it was laced with poison.

“I’m not a ghost. I’m the wife you tried to poison, the wife you abandoned in a hospital hallway.”

David’s eyes widened to their maximum, as if they would pop out. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His brain refused to accept this insane reality. The multi-millionaire investor Regina was the poor orphan Valerie.

“Vah, Valerie,” David whispered.

His entire body trembled violently, not from the pain in his hand, but from a terror that crushed his soul.

“How? How?”

Valerie smiled. This time it was a genuine chilling smile. She brought her lips close to David’s ear.

“Welcome to the hell you created, my husband.”

And look who’s come to greet you at the exit.

Valerie pointed to the main door of the ballroom, now wide open. A group of uniformed police officers was entering with firm steps, holding metal handcuffs. But it wasn’t the police that made David wet his pants. Behind the police, a forensic technician held up the glass jar with the remnants of the poison powder.

How could David escape this web of the law that was already closed around his neck?

The camera flashes from reporters exploded like lightning in a storm, capturing the most humiliating moment in David Chen’s life. The man who minutes before felt on top of the world now lay on the stage floor, handcuffed with his back arched. His face was bruised, not by a physical blow, but by the shock of a reality too harsh to bear. Two uniformed police officers forcefully grabbed his shoulders to lift him. David struggled. His bloodshot, tearary eyes frantically scanned the room for an escape, but all paths were already closed.

When his gaze met mine, his struggle ceased. He no longer looked at me with hatred, but with a pleading look, the same cunning look that had always managed to soften my heart whenever he was wrong.

Valerie, honey. His voice broke with crocodile tears.

“Please, I was wrong. We were just so poor. I lost my mind. I did all this so we could have a better life. You love me, right? Remember our wedding vows, honey, in sickness and in health.”

I looked down at him from the height of my heels, expressionless. There was no longer that flutter in my heart that always appeared when I heard his voice. My heart was empty, cold, but at peace, like a frozen lake that is no longer moved by the smallest stone.

I approached slowly. Harrison tried to stop me, but I raised my hand to signal that it was okay. I stood right in front of the face of the man who was once my world.

Wedding vows, I repeated softly, but loud enough for the guests, still frozen in their seats, to hear.

You poisoned those vows spoonful by spoonful every night for 6 months.

“It was just a sedative, Valerie. I swear,”

he excused himself in a panic.

The lab results don’t lie, and neither does your recorded voice. I cut him off sharply. I leaned in and looked directly into his trembling eyes. Know that I don’t hate you for being poor. I hate you because you made me feel worthless. You made me believe I deserve to die.

Honey, please.

David began to cry hysterically as the police started to lead him away.

“Don’t do this. I’m your husband, Valerie.”

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look away until he was taken off the stage. They made him pass between the booing guests and finally he disappeared behind the double doors guarded by security.

Silence. The magnificent ballroom fell silent for a moment. Then one by one applause began to be heard. At first hesitant, then louder and louder like thunder. Business partners, foreigners, and my own employees were applauding not for the dramatic spectacle, but as a sign of respect for my victory.

Harrison approached and offered me a glass of water.

“The police have also arrested Ashley at David Chen’s old office. She tried to wipe the computer data, but our IT team was faster. She will face charges of conspiracy to commit murder and embezzlement.”

I took the glass and drank a little to wet my dry throat.

“Good. Make sure they both end up in the most uncomfortable cell.”

“It’s already done. Chairwoman, the best legal team. We will ensure they rot in prison for life with no possibility of parole.”

I nodded slowly. The victory was sweet, but it left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue. The bitterness of having lost my innocence. The naive Valerie, who believed that love conquers all, had just been dragged away along with David.

The next morning, the New York sky was clear as if celebrating my freedom. I stood in a luxurious cemetery with well-manicured lawns. In front of me, two black marble tombstones stood side by side. Engraved on them in golden letters were the names of my biological parents. The parents I never knew but who had bequeathed me an incredible strength in my blood. I placed a bouquet of white liies on their tombstones. The morning wind rustled the end of my black scarf.

“Dad, mom,” I whispered softly. “Valerie has finally arrived. I’m sorry. I had to travel a very long and painful road to find my way back to you.”

I touched my chest. The after effects of the poison pain had medically disappeared, but the wound in my heart would remain forever. I could never love someone again with the same innocence as before. Trust had become a luxury that probably not even with all this inheritance could I ever buy again.

Harrison, despite there being no rain, stood a few steps away, faithfully holding a black umbrella, ready to shield me from the scorching sun.

“Chairwoman Hayes,” he called softly. “The shareholder meeting is in an hour. They are waiting for the new leader of the Sterling Corporation’s guidelines.”

I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of damp earth and fresh grass. I closed my eyes for a moment and said goodbye to Valerie Hayes, the wife from the rental apartment. When I opened them, my gaze had changed, determined, strong, and unbreakable.

“Let’s go, Mr. Harrison,” I replied, turning and walking away, leaving the past buried along with the silent tombstones. In the office, don’t call me Valerie Hayes anymore. Call me chairwoman Regina. Valerie is already resting in peace. I walked towards the waiting limousine. A new world awaited me, and this time I was in control. No one could ever hurt me