You should have acted like this from the start. If you had just accepted Chloe, it wouldn't have come to this. Now, it's too late for regrets. When he stormed out, slamming the door, I lifted my head. There wasn't a single tear on my face.

On the contrary, a cold smile played on my lips. The entire conversation had just been recorded by another phone. I had in my pocket. I turned on my computer and quickly sent an email to Monica. Accelerate the final phase.

We'll have to move to plan B. Then I sent an encrypted text to my father. Initiate the fund recall. When I finished, I leaned back in my chair. Everything was going according to plan.

Jason's anger, his threats, even his plan to frame me, it was all within my calculations. The most ironic part was that he himself had said he would throw me out with nothing. That would be the most damning evidence in a trial. Combine that with the banquet recording where he promised to give all his fortune to his son, and the evidence of his embezzlement, and the outcome was clear. I turned off the lights and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to look at the night skyline.

The neon signs in the distance looked like fireworks, celebrating my victory. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Starting tomorrow, I would execute the next phase of my plan, playing the role of a wife destroyed by psychological trauma. the devoted wife driven to madness by her husband and his mistress. What a perfect character. Who would suspect that such a woman could be planning such a meticulous revenge?

I picked up a picture frame from the desk. It was our wedding photo. I carefully took the photo out and tore it in half. Then I fed the half with Jason's face into the paper shredder. The game has begun, honey, I whispered into the empty office.

I hope you like the ending I've prepared for you. Emergency room. The early morning light peaked through the blinds. Lying on a gurney, I stared blankly at the ceiling. My performance of a nervous breakdown the night before had been flawless.

I smashed everything in the house, screamed hysterically, and finally collapsed on the floor, foaming at the mouth. Patients blood pressure is normal oxygen saturation 98%. No external injuries, the doctor told the nurse. However, pupillary light reflex is sluggish. Suspected dissociative disorder due to severe psychological trauma.

I maintained an empty expression, not even blinking. In the corner, Jason's face was full of annoyance. My sister-in-law, Betty, faked exaggerated concern. "Doctor, my sister-in-law must have suffered a terrible shock. It's all my brother's fault."

"What's the point of saying that now?" Jason snapped in a low voice. "Just give her some meds so we can take her home." "That won't be possible," the doctor said, adjusting his glasses. The patient is currently in a state of major depressive disorder with psychotic features.

She needs at least two weeks of hospital observation. Jason's face darkened. Two weeks. That long. The treatment of mental illness cannot be rushed.

The doctor's voice was firm. If the guardian does not cooperate, we could request an involuntary psychiatric hold through the courts. I almost burst out laughing. That doctor was the cousin of a friend from college. Last night, I had secretly contacted him and we had planned this entire diagnostic scenario together.

No one would suspect a crazy woman in a psych ward could be plotting anything. "Fine, admit her," Jason said grudgingly. "Betty, you stay here and watch her." When Betty tried to protest, the doctor added, "The patient requires absolute rest. Guardians can take turns visiting, but visits should not exceed 1 hour.

Once I was moved to a private room, everyone left. The second I heard the door click shut, I sprang out of bed. I pulled out the burner phone I had managed to hide in my underwear. The first message was from Monica. All paperwork in Switzerland completed.

Ready to start whenever you are. The second was from my father. Guarantee rejected. Initiating fund recall. The third was from Sarah.

Chloe has an appointment today at Lenox Hill. I've sent someone to get a copy of the report. I quickly replied. Focus on the blood type and the weeks of gestation. Then I deleted all the logs.

I had barely hidden the phone away when I heard the doorknob turn. I quickly lay back down on the bed and returned to my blank stare. Betty walked in carrying a fruit basket. Her face beamed with fake concern. "Valerie, are you feeling a little better?"

"I just stared at the ceiling without moving." "Oh, don't take it so hard," she said, sitting next to the bed, but her voice dripped with gloating. "Chloe, being pregnant is a good thing. When the baby is born, you can help take care of him, too." Under the blanket, my fingers twitched, but my face remained impassive.

"Ah, by the way," Betty suddenly lowered her voice. My dad was asking when your father is going to sign the guarantee for the Brooklyn project. He says he can't wait much longer. So that was it, I thought with disdain. What they cared about wasn't my health, but my family's money.

Since I didn't respond, Betty gave me an annoyed shove. Are you listening to me? Don't pretend you can't hear me. The whole family is in chaos, and you're just sitting here playing crazy so comfortably. I slowly turned my head and looked at her with the emptiest expression I could muster.

And suddenly I opened my mouth and smiled from ear to ear. There's a lot of blood. Betty recoiled in fear. "What? What are you doing?"

"The baby's blood. It's all stained red," I said in a raspy voice, staring intently at her stomach. Betty went pale, grabbed her purse, and ran out of the room. "Doctor, nurse, this woman is crazy." When the door slammed shut, I regained my composure, took out a pen I had hidden under the pillow, and wrote a few keywords on my forearm.

Guarantee Brooklyn, 2 weeks. The next morning, a young nurse came to give me my medication. "Valerie, it's time for your meds." She handed me the pills and a cup of water, discreetly slipping a note into my hand. When the nurse left, I opened the note.