After my husband’s mistress announced she was carrying twins, his family offered me two billion dollars to walk away quietly. I didn’t hesitate—I signed the divorce papers and moved abroad. But just as their wedding plans were underway, the test results came in… and everything unraveled.

The conference room at Halvorsen & Pike rose high above Midtown Manhattan, its glass walls framing a skyline meant to signal dominance and final decisions.
Sunlight reflected off steel and marble, creating an atmosphere of polished control. At the far end of the long table sat Harper Ellison, perfectly still, her hands folded with intentional composure while the silence around her felt less like tension and more like something already decided.

Margot Whitfield, her mother-in-law, slid a leather folder across the table with mechanical precision.

“Please sign, Harper,” Margot said smoothly. “This protects everyone and avoids unnecessary public complications.”

Graham Whitfield sat beside her, immaculate as ever, projecting the detached authority of a man accustomed to strategic exits. His wedding ring was gone. His expression was not apologetic—it was procedural.