Everyone knew Elaine Miller had been chasing Marcellus Spencer for years.

Back when the Miller family still held its own, she’d tag along behind Marcellus, calling him "brother" with every breath, dreaming of the day she could officially be his wife.

Then, the collapse. The family company went under, and debts piled up until they choked the life out of everything. When her parents finally threw themselves from a high-rise, Elaine was only left breathing because Greta Spencer took her in, out of some lingering, cold charity.

Elaine buried her feelings deep, knowing full well she was no longer a match for a man of his stature. When Greta suggested she marry Marcellus’s frail older brother as a "good luck" charm for his failing health, she simply nodded and agreed.

But the night before the wedding, Morgan Rose—Marcellus’s fiancée—stopped by with a cup of tea. Elaine drank it, and the next morning, she woke up in bed with Marcellus.

The fallout was immediate. Morgan wailed as if her soul were being ripped from her body, and a pressured Greta was forced to make Elaine the mistress of the Spencer estate, effectively handing over the keys to half the empire. Overnight, Elaine became the city’s favorite villain: a slut, a homewrecker, a viper who’d bitten the hand that fed her.

She tried to explain, her voice hollow and frantic. "I don’t know what happened. I never wanted this."

No one believed her—except, so she had once convinced herself, for Marcellus.

He used to pull her into his arms, whispering reassurances. "I know you, Elaine. You’re not capable of this." He would brush her hair aside, his gaze searing. "Don't listen to them. They don’t know you like I do."

For a while, he was tender. He seemed to accept her as his true wife. Elaine fell for the charade. She couldn't help it; he was the man she’d loved since she was a girl. She let herself believe this was all just a messy, accidental stroke of fate. She even believed he loved her back.

That delusion shattered the moment her three children were taken away from her, one by one, like pawns in a game. But even having faced that jagged reality, hearing the casual cruelty in his voice now made her blood turn to ice.

She parted her lips, her voice barely a whisper. "What did you just say?"

"You never… actually believed me?"

The sheer weight of her despair caught him off guard. Marcellus hesitated, a brief flicker of regret crossing his features. "That’s not what I meant—"

His phone buzzed. Morgan’s name flashed on the screen.

"Marcellus, I’m having nightmares again. Can you come over?"

His expression shifted in an instant. He lunged out of the room without a backward glance.

Elaine stayed on the bed, staring at the empty space where he had been. Her eyes burned, aching with a pressure that wouldn't release. She reached up to touch her cheek, but found it bone-dry.

They say a broken heart hurts, but it turns out when the pain reaches its peak, you don't even have the tears left to cry.

A bitter, jagged laugh escaped her. She picked up her phone and dialed her assistant. "Get the divorce papers ready."