Chapter 1

The storm raged over Owathe that evening, the downpour relentless as Evelyn Hartley hurried toward Dream Club. Rain lashed against her skin, soaking through her clothes, but miraculously, the cake box in her arms remained untouched.

At the entrance to the private room, she hesitated, her fingers curling around the door handle. Then, a voice from inside froze her in place.

"Serena, for three years, Nathan never stopped looking for you. And now—you're finally back!"

Evelyn's breath hitched.

Serena Cole.

The same Serena Cole who had once been Nathan Black’s lover.

A soft, feminine laugh followed. "But hasn’t Nathan already married?"

"Oh, Serena, don’t even think about that woman. Nathan was forced into it. His father threatened to kill you if he didn’t comply. He only married her to protect you."

"Really?" Serena’s voice dripped with skepticism.

"Of course! Why else would Nathan choose someone like Evelyn? She’s plain, overweight, and an illegitimate child. Marrying her was just his way of spiting his father!"

Evelyn’s grip on the cake box tightened, her knuckles whitening. The words sliced through her like a blade, leaving her numb.

She remembered the night Nathan had proposed—how her heart had soared, how she’d thought herself the luckiest woman alive. She hadn’t known then that she was nothing more than a pawn in his revenge.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

So, in their eyes, she was just the ugly, unwanted wife.

"Speaking of Evelyn," another voice chimed in, "it’s been five hours. Do you really think she’s coming? Delight Desserts is all the way in the eastern suburbs. The trip alone takes three hours, and that place always has a ridiculous line. No way she’s dumb enough to go."

"If Nathan asked, she’d crawl there on her knees. Everyone knows how pathetically obsessed she is with him."

Evelyn inhaled sharply, forcing her expression into steel. Then, with a sharp push, she swung the door open.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.

Her gaze immediately found Nathan—lounging on the sofa, his posture effortlessly elegant, his striking features as flawless as ever. The man who had once made her heart race.

Her husband.

The CEO of Triumph Consortium.

A mocking voice broke the silence.

"Serena, ever wondered what Nathan’s wife looks like? Well, here she is."

Evelyn stood there, drenched and disheveled, her clothes clinging to her curves in unflattering ways. Rain-soaked strands of hair stuck to her face, drawing attention to the dark mark on her left cheek.

The room waited, breathless, for her reaction.

But Evelyn only smiled—cold, sharp, and utterly unreadable.

"Sorry I’m late," she said, her voice steady. "The cake took longer than expected."

And then, with deliberate slowness, she lifted the box—and let it drop to the floor.

The crash echoed through the room.

Silence.

Then—

"Oops."

Her smile didn’t waver.

Nathan’s eyes darkened.

And the game began.