"You gave birth to me, abandoned me, and left me to survive in absolute hell for eleven brutal years."

"Now you return, desperate to strip away even more from my hands."

"You failed to claim it because you fundamentally underestimated me."

"Yet I am choosing not to back you into an absolute dead end today."

"Not because you are my mother."

"But because the child in Seraphina's womb is entirely innocent."

"That child deserves to have a grandmother."

"Even if that grandmother leaves a great deal to be desired."

Madeline’s lips parted slightly.

But she uttered not a single word.

I stood up.

"You possess exactly three days to weigh your options."

I walked toward the exit doors.

"Lana."

She called out from behind my back.

I didn't break my stride, nor did I turn around.

"Do you harbor hatred toward me?"

I paused for a single step.

"I did once."

"Effective now, I don't."

"You are simply not worth the energy of my hatred."

The door clicked shut behind my back.

Chapter 27

On the second day of the three-day ultimatum, Madeline made her decision.

She sent someone over with a safe.

Inside were all the documents regarding Ethan.

The transfer ledger of the two million dollars, the footage of the construction site brawl, and several stray pieces of correspondence.

Felix verified them one by one before confirming that everything was accounted for.

"Alaina, are you sure she didn't keep a backup?"

"Did you run a check?"

"We did. Her electronic devices, cloud storage, and associated accounts have all been wiped clean."

"It's impossible to clean a trail that flawlessly."

"But within our current capacity to audit, there is indeed nothing left."

I locked the safe securely.

Even if she had left some hidden insurance, without her social network and distribution channels in Washington, these materials would never be able to stir up a storm again.

On the third day, Madeline left Washington permanently.

Prior to her departure, she did something I hadn't anticipated.

She had Arthur deliver a letter to me.

The letter was quite brief.

Lana, I am well aware that I was never a good mother. I don't need you to tell me that; I know it myself.

I didn't abandon you because you looked too much like your biological father back then. Those were just words Seraphina hurled to rile you up.

The real reason was that I simply couldn't survive myself. Your father beat me far more brutally than he ever beat you. When I fled, I was too terrified to look back.

This isn't an excuse, but it is the truth.

You’ve built a far better life than I ever did. That is the only thing that brings me comfort.

Take care of yourself.

I finished reading the letter.

I folded it neatly and placed it inside a desk drawer.

I didn't burn it.

But I never read it a second time, either.

Mrs. Higgins stood beside me and murmured, "Miss Alaina, do you believe what she wrote?"

"Whether I believe it or not no longer matters."

"She’s gone."

"This matter is over."

Mrs. Higgins let out a soft sigh.

But things were not destined to settle that quickly.

Madeline had left, Seraphina was awaiting delivery in Nashville, and the blackmail materials had been retrieved.

But the final trial with Ethan had yet to be resolved.

He returned home every single day.

He sat across from me at the exact same dining table for every meal.

Yet the distance between us felt far greater than it ever had before.

He never brought up Seraphina again.

He never brought up Madeline.

And he never again repeated that vow about our marriage only having one exit.

He became incredibly quiet.

Every day upon returning, he handled his corporate affairs, reviewed files, and went to sleep.

Occasionally waking up in the middle of the night, I could sense him sitting on his side of the bed.

No lights were turned on.

Not a single word was spoken.

He would merely sit there in the dark.

One night, as I turned over, he fondly believed I was fast asleep.

He murmured a single sentence into the quiet room.

"Lana, are you even the same Lana I used to know?"

I didn't open my eyes.

Nor did I offer an answer.

I simply didn't know how to reply.

Was I still the same Lana he used to know?

Perhaps not.

The Lana he knew would wait out a ten-year prison sentence for him, suffer a miscarriage for him, and haul her heavy, pregnant belly out of a window to rescue him from his rivals.

That Lana would lavish every ounce of her warmth and resilience upon him, concealing all her scars entirely inside herself.

The Lana of today possessed her own enterprise, her own elite network, and her own ultimate cards.

The Lana of today no longer required to hide away beneath his shadow.

But the Lana who no longer stood behind him was someone he no longer recognized.

That was his issue to resolve, not mine.

Chapter 28

The turning point manifested one month later.

Seraphina’s child was born over in Nashville.

It was a baby boy.

Harvey dialed Ethan to deliver the notification.

After hanging up the call, Ethan sat alone in his study for an incredibly long time.

Then he came to find me.

"Lana, the baby was born."

"I heard."

"I want to go see him."

I looked directly at him.

"Go ahead."

"You aren't going to stop me?"

"He is your child. You possess every right to see him."

He lingered at the doorway, hesitating.

"Lana, will you come with me?"

"No."

He took his leave.

Three days later, he returned.

He brought back a photograph.

An infant with a heavily crumpled face, sleeping soundly inside a swaddle.

He placed the photo flat on the table.

He didn't explicitly push it toward me to review, nor did he conceal it away.

He merely left it resting there.

I cast a brief glance over it.

"He looks like you."

He was visibly startled.

"Lana..."

"Stating that he looks like you doesn't mean I accept his presence."

"I know."

"What do you plan to do?"

"The child will take my surname. Child support will be wired on a monthly basis. Seraphina is permanently barred from returning to Washington."

"She agreed to those terms?"

"She possessed no alternative choice."

I nodded slowly.

"There is one more matter."

"What is it?"

"I am going to completely decouple Morgan's operations from your supply chain."

The color instantly altered on his face.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"The shares I hold in those three core companies within your supply chain will be progressively transferred to an independent third party over the next six months."

"Once the divestment is complete, Morgan and your conglomerate will no longer maintain any direct operational ties."

"Why exactly are you doing this?"

"Because I no longer wish to remain bound to you."

He fell into a protracted silence.

"Are you demanding a divorce?"

"It’s not a divorce."

"You said it yourself—our marriage only possesses a single exit."

"But marriage is marriage, and business is business."

"I can remain your wife in name, but I refuse to ever be your dependent again."

"You command your corporation, and I will command mine."

"You walk your path, and I will walk mine."

"Moving forward, we will live our lives entirely separate. Coexisting beneath the same roof, yet completely independent."

He stared at me.

"Is this truly what you desire?"

"This is the single best resolution I am willing to accept."

He lowered his head.

Shoving both hands deep into his pockets, he muttered, "Alright."

From that exact day forward, Ethan and I formally transitioned into a marriage of convenience.

Residing inside the same grand villa, utilizing separate studies, and independently commanding our respective empires.

Occasionally crossing paths at the dining table, we would exchange a few sentences with practiced politeness.

More often than not, our paths never intersected at all.

Yet there was one detail that remained entirely unaltered.

On the fifteenth of every single month, he would place a fresh bouquet of lilies onto my desk in the study.

No card was attached, and no messages were left.

He would merely leave them resting there.

I never threw them into the trash.

But I never brought them up during our conversations, either.

Within this peculiar equilibrium, three months slipped away.

Three months later, an incident violently fractured that balance.

Grandma Helen fell gravely ill.

She was rushed to the hospital.

Her prognosis was highly alarming.

By the time Ethan and I crossed paths in the sterile hospital corridor, it was already two o'clock in the morning.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his tie loosened, his shirt sleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows.

The exact instant his eyes fell upon me, his rigid expression visibly softened.

"You came."

"Grandma is gravely ill; how could I possibly not come?"