"What about your wife?" she whispered, her fingers lazily tracing the line of his chest. "What do you think she’ll do... when she walks in and finds us like this? In her bed?"

At that moment James chuckled darkly, not even blinking. "And who said it’s her bed? Don’t forget, this is my house. Everything in here—every piece of furniture, every curtain, every inch of this place—it belongs to me. Nothing belongs to her, nothing!!."

At that moment James chuckled, deep and shameless.

Only listening.

Cora’s breath caught.

And now—she had vowed to destroy him.

Her husband. James Franklin.

The woman beneath the sheets let out a soft giggle. "Okay, baby..."

She made him who he was today. The fame. The money. The influence. All without him knowing. She pushed his brand. She invested in his ideas through anonymous partners. She connected him to people he thought he discovered on his own.

What neither of them knew—

At that moment he pause, his eyes narrowed, full of cold finality. "She better say thank you. Because I’m done hiding. At least now, I don’t have to pretend anymore."

The moment she entered, the air shifted.

And now—she couldn’t feel her legs.

They didn’t trust him. They believed James only loved her for her money, her name, her status. So Cora had pretended—for two whole years—to be paralyzed. To live in a wheelchair. To make her family believe she was at her lowest, weakest state.

Just when she thought she could reveal her identity to James, this had to happen.

But instead—she stood behind the door. Listening to the man she gave everything to... throw her away like she meant nothing.

Because she wanted it to be real, Because she wanted to show him the truth, on this very day... Today.

She had thought of leaving quietly. She had thought she’d just disappear from James’ life without a word, without ruining the man she once loved.

At that moment Cora couldn’t move. Not because of the wheelchair—but because of the weight in her chest. A weight so sharp, so cruel, it felt like something was stabbing her from the inside.

If James stayed by her side during that... then it would prove his love was real.

And the worst part? he was proud of it.

Now that she had given him everything—her money, her time, her heart—he ran straight back into the arms of the same bitch who once called him worthless.

He was cheating on her. Not just with any woman, but with her college bully. The same woman who used to humiliate him back then because he had nothing.

And through it all, she helped him rise.

Today was supposed to be her dream. Their second wedding anniversary. A day she had marked with so much hope. So much anticipation. She thought—no, she believed—it would be the moment everything changed for the better.

She was nothing to him, She was just an inconvenience.

Her silence was no longer kindness. It was weakness.

She was going to stand. Walk to him. Look him in the eye and say, "James, I was never paralyzed. But I chose this pain... to prove your love."

The same woman James swore he despised.

The day everything was supposed to finally make sense.

Just then, Cora heard more voices spilling from the bedroom—low, intimate, and laced with cruelty.

He scoffed.

Without a single word, Cora set back on her wheelchair, and she pushed her hand forward, her electric wheelchair humming as it rolled past the hallway into the room.

The red rose resting on her thighs slid slightly, its petals trembling with the breeze sneaking through the hallway. It was a rare bloom—one from James’ favorite collection. She had gone to so much trouble to get it. Just to surprise him, Just to say: Happy Anniversary.

He sat up, eyes hard with disgust. "I’ve put up with her for two years. Two damn years of her silence, her boring routine, her fake smiles. I can’t do it anymore."

After years of insults and pressure, they had finally said, "Okay, we’ll accept James."

She fought through it all. The lies. The humiliation. The pain of pretending every single day.

Her hands clenched the sides of her chair. She had heard enough.

"She should be thankful. Everything she has—everything—was because of me. And if she walks in right now?"

"How do you even sleep with her?" the woman sneered with a laugh. "I’ve been thinking about it and... I just can’t imagine how you do it."

Her family had finally agreed.

Not breathing. Not moving.

But not anymore, not after this.

But only on one cruel condition.

"Oh, darkling..." Her lips curved, teasing. "But she’s still your wife. Isn’t this... cheating?"

At that moment James’ jaw tightened. Then his voice dropped, low and sharp like a warning. "She lost the right to call herself my wife a long time ago."

She had heard every word. Every moan. Every mocking laugh that came from her bedroom. The same room she had decorated for them after their first wedding anniversary.

Her heart missed a beat. Then another. Then it started pounding so hard, so loud, it drowned out the rest of their laughter.

The sight of Cora—dressed in her soft anniversary gown, eyes cold and wet with fury, with a single rose still on her lap—made the blood drain from their faces.

Cora stood frozen behind the door.

James froze. The girl wrapped in his arms jolted upright, the blanket falling from her shoulder.

"What? You think I’d actually do that?" He sounded amused. "That’s disgusting. I can’t even see myself doing such a thing with her. It’s horrible, really horrible."

Her hands trembled, her tears dripping one after another onto her lap... then onto the velvet seat of the wheelchair she had been sitting in for nearly two years.

"Cora..." the girl whispered, her voice cracking.

At that moment The girl’s voice trembled as she whispered, "Cora..."

Then Cora’s eyes narrowed. She knew that voice.

Emily, James’ secretary.

The same woman who always smiled politely at her in public, acting loyal and harmless. The same woman who handled all of James’ calls, his schedules—and now, apparently, his body too.

Immediately James scrambled, grabbing his trousers and yanking them up. His hands fumbled with the zipper as his face twisted with irritation rather than guilt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he barked. "Didn’t you say you had an appointment with your therapist today?"

Upon hearing what James just saud, Cora’s fingers curled tightly around the armrest of her wheelchair. Her face darkened—slowly, coldly—until even the dim light in the room seemed to shy away from her presence.

She raised her head and stared directly at him.

"So now I need permission to walk into my own bedroom?" Her voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came just before a storm.

She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his.

"I don’t even get the right to demand an explanation for what I’m seeing? In my bed? In our house?"

At that moment James opened his mouth, but the weight of her words silenced him.

"How dare you, James?" she said, her voice cracking at the edge but still sharp as glass. "How dare you cheat on me under the same roof where I’ve sacrificed everything for you?"

Emily, flustered and flushed, quickly reached for her dress, trying to slip into it with trembling hands. She made a move toward the door, desperate to flee the boiling tension.

But before she could even more two step James grabbed her wrist. "Wait," he muttered.

That single motion—his hand on Emily’s arm—made Cora’s expression twist further. The pain was gone. What remained now was something else.

Emily turned to James, her voice low and shaky, pretending to be ashamed. "What the hell are you doing?" she whispered.

But her eyes—those sly, glittering eyes—told the truth. She wasn’t ashamed. She was enjoying every second of it.

James tightened his grip on Emily’s hand. His voice was low, but every word hit Cora like a slap.

"I’m tired of hiding it," he muttered, not even looking ashamed.

He turned fully to Emily, brushing her hair behind her ear, completely ignoring the woman whose life had been wrecked just moments ago.

"Emily... the truth is, I’ve been seeing you for a year now," he said softly.

At that moment Cora blinked. Once. Twice.

James turned to face her, arms crossed like he was delivering some final statement in a business meeting. "I tried, Cora. I really did. But your... condition—" he gestured vaguely at her wheelchair "—it was too much. I’m a man. A normal man. I have needs. I couldn’t keep suppressing them."

Hearing James words Cora’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"I mean, come on," James continued with a shrug. "Look at the success I’ve achieved in the past two years. You think women haven’t been throwing themselves at me? I turned down every one of them. I was disciplined. I stayed loyal... for as long as I could."

He said it like he deserved a medal.

"But I’m human," he added, like that somehow justified it all. "And you wouldn’t understand what fame does to people, Cora. So I’m not even going to explain."

He paused, studying her face as if expecting her to break down or beg.

Instead, Cora sat still. Silent. Her face unreadable.

"I did marry you for love," he said, voice softening like he was doing her a favor. "But things change."

Then, with a deep breath, he said the final words that made Emily’s lips twitch with a small, victorious smile.

"I’ve been thinking about how to make it up to you. So here’s my decision—I’ll pay you off. For everything. One million dollars. That’s what I’ve decided."

James scoffed, shaking his head like he was talking to someone beneath him.

"And don’t even think about filing for divorce," he snapped, tone sharp and dripping with arrogance. "You won’t get a penny, Not a single dollar, if you try to so."

He took a step closer, folding his arms with confidence, as if he had already won. "I’ll make sure of it. I have lawyers—powerful ones. You try anything smart, I’ll bury you in court."

His words echoed in the silence, heavy and heartless.

"So be wise, Cora," he said slowly. "Take the one million and disappear. That’s the best you’ll get. I’m offering you mercy. Don’t push me."

He glanced at Emily beside him, who stood with her arms around herself, pretending to look unsure—though her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

James nodded, finalizing his cruel offer like a man closing a deal.

But just as the room fell quiet again—

Cora suddenly burst out laughing.

... ...

Cora’s laughter rang through the room like a crack of thunder—loud, unexpected, unsettling.

Immediately James and Emily stood frozen.

They exchanged glances, confused. Her laughter didn’t sound broken or hysterical, just like they thought.

It sounded amused. Confident. Dangerous.

When Cora finally stopped, she wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye—not from pain, but from the absurdity of it all.

"Fame?" she echoed, her lips twitching. "Money? You said I wouldn’t understand those things?"

She tilted her head, eyes burning into James like lasers.

"James... who do you think has been helping you all this while? Who do you think was behind your success?"

James’ brows furrowed. He stayed quiet.

Cora rolled forward slightly in her chair, her tone growing colder. "Do you really think you—you—were capable enough to climb so high on your own?"

James hesitated. His jaw tensed.

Truthfully, some of the contracts and partnerships he got had come out of nowhere. He never questioned it much. He just thought he got lucky. He believed people were finally recognizing his talent.

He cleared his throat and tried to stand tall. "I... I did the work," he said stiffly. "I showed up. I impressed the right people. They saw how brilliant I was. That’s how I became popular."

Emily, sensing the slight crack in his voice, quickly stepped in.

She gave Cora a smug smile. "James is one of the most intelligent men I know. Even some of the top players in the business world want to emulate him."

Emily folded her arms with a confident smirk, her eyes gleaming with pride.

"Tonight," she said, turning slightly toward James, "you’ve been invited to the Global Rising Star Entrepreneur event. Hosted by the Victors."

At that moment James blinked.

Even Cora’s expression shifted slightly at that name.

"The Victors?" she repeated quietly.

Emily nodded, savoring the moment.

"One of the top five most influential families in South Caden. And they chose you. That alone speaks volumes, James."

She stepped closer to him, resting her hand lightly on his arm.

"And that’s not even the best part," she added. "We’ve already received inside reports—you’re not just attending, James. You’re winning."

James’ chest rose with pride. His mouth parted in disbelief, then twisted into a triumphant grin.

"They chose me?" he muttered.

Emily nodded again. "Only a man with real brilliance could pull off something like that. You deserve it, James."

The words hit him like a shot of champagne. He raised his shoulders, lifted his chin, and turned to Cora with a smug look.

"You heard her, didn’t you?" he said, voice rich with arrogance. "This is exactly why I’ve been thinking of divorcing you."

He gestured toward himself, as though his very presence demanded acknowledgment.

"Look at the level I’m at now. I need a woman who can match this. Someone smart. Someone who belongs in the spotlight beside me." He shook his head. "You were never cut out for that job, Cora. Not even close."

At that moment James scoffed and waved a dismissive hand, his voice loud and full of contempt.

"You’re dumb, Cora. You don’t even understand the basics of the business world," he snapped. "All you do is eat, sleep, go to therapy, and repeat that same process again, and again. You’ve never lifted a finger for any of this."

He took a step forward, his tone growing more cutting. "You’re completely cut off from the kind of life I live now. You’re not a wife—you’re just... dead weight."

For a moment, the room went still.

Then Cora slowly looked up at him—and smiled.

Not a soft smile. Not a broken one.

A cold, quiet, knowing smile that made the room suddenly feel colder.

"I should’ve known," she said softly, her voice calm but laced with venom. "A wild animal taken in as a pet... will still count all the free meals given to him as his kill."

Upon hearing what Cora just said, James’ eyes flared. His expression twisted into instant anger.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he barked.

Cora’s smile faded, but her gaze never wavered. "It means," she said, her voice firm, "I would like to sign the divorce papers. Now."

She rolled her wheelchair forward a few inches, posture upright with quiet dignity.

"There’s no way I’m leaving this house without the divorce papers."

Immediately James raised a brow, momentarily thrown by how calm Cora was. But then a smirk slid across his face.

She was angry. That was all.

And anger made people stupid.

Perfect.

If he played this right, she’d sign exactly what he needed—and walk away with only one million dollars, leaving the rest of his growing empire untouched.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed.

"Bring the papers," he said to his lawyer. "Right now. She’s ready to sign."

He ended the call and looked at Cora with a fake smile. "You’re making the right choice," he said, voice smooth and patronizing. "There’s no need for drama. Let’s be honest—no rich man wants a cripple for a wife. That’s just... barbaric."

His words hung in the air like poison.

However Cora didn’t blink.

Fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and in walked his lawyer, briefcase in hand, suit sharp and smug like he’d done this too many times before.

Emily beamed as she watched from the corner of the room, arms folded and posture elegant. Her eyes stayed on Cora, soaking in every second like she was watching a comedy.

So dumb, she thought, Cora was letting her anger control her. She had no clue how divorce worked. No strategy. No class. No education.

If Emily were in Cora’s position, she would’ve clawed for a larger share—maybe half of James’ properties. But here Cora was, throwing it all away over emotions.

A complete fool, Still, Emily wasn’t complaining.

She was just a signature away from becoming the new Miss of the Lorenzo family.

James Lorenzo’s wife.

The lawyer adjusted his tie, his tone polite but rehearsed—as if this was just another transaction.

He handed Cora the file and sat opposite her with a smile too smooth to be trusted.

"As stated, Mrs. Lorenzo," he began, "once you sign this document, you’ll receive one million dollars wired to your account immediately. However—" he glanced at his watch dramatically "—if this isn’t signed before today ends, the offer drops to five hundred thousand."

He folded his hands neatly and looked at her like he’d just offered gold to a beggar.

James leaned back in his seat, legs crossed, proud of how neatly everything was going. Emily sat beside him, already imagining what dress she’d wear to the Victors’ event tonight as his woman.

They were all trying to play her. Pretend like they were being generous. Like they were doing her a favor.

And Cora knew, every smirk. Every little dig. Every silent celebration happening in their heads.

She calmly picked up the documents, her fingers steady.

She flipped through the pages without rushing, eyes scanning their little game—the trap they were so sure she’d walk right into.

Then, in a voice so clear it silenced the room, she said, "I don’t want anything."

... ...