At Damien Thorne’s funeral, I stood in a simple black dress, my face impossibly calm. The lawyer finished reading the will aloud. I took the microphone. “I’m donating all of Damien Thorne’s assets and estates,” I announced, my voice clear, “to his sworn enemy, Adrian Steele.” The room erupted. Guests gasped, whispers turned into shouts. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, collapsed on the spot. They pointed fingers, calling me crazy, a wicked woman who only craved the Thorne family’s wealth. “Damien’s body isn’t even cold yet! How *dare* you do this?!” I gazed at Damien’s black and white photo on the screen, a faint smile touching my lips. Just three days ago, I’d stumbled upon a video of him in Paris, wrapped around his first love, Serena Hayes, kissing her passionately. Now, he was “dead” in a foreign country, stripped of everything. **1.** “Stella! You psycho! You’ll rot in hell!” Chloe Thorne, Damien’s sister, lunged at me first, her hand raised to strike. I didn’t flinch. The slap stopped an inch from my face. Adrian Steele had blocked her. One of the key figures today, Damien’s arch-nemesis, and the recipient of my billion-dollar inheritance. He stood beside me, tall and commanding in a perfectly tailored black suit. “Ms. Thorne, control yourself.” His voice was low, laced with a cold warning. Chloe trembled with rage, pointing at both of us. “Oh, so it’s true! Adrian! My brother just died, and you two are already hooking up! You disgusting traitors!” The guests’ whispers turned into overt pointing and blatant gossip. “I heard Mrs. Thorne and Mr. Steele had something going on. I can’t believe it’s true!” “Poor Damien. His wife runs off with his sworn enemy and all his money before his grave is even dug.” Eleanor, my mother-in-law, stirred awake. Hearing their words, she gasped again, pointing a trembling finger at me. “This… this is a disgrace to our family name!” I shot her an annoyed glance. Stepping out from behind Adrian, I faced the crowd of “grieving” relatives and friends. “What I do is none of your business.” I paused, my gaze sweeping over the angry, greedy faces of the Thorne family. “As for the inheritance, it was Damien’s to leave to me. And I’ll give it to whoever I damn well please.” With that, I ignored their pathetic circus act. I turned to Adrian. “Mr. Steele, your legal team can handle the transfer from here.” Adrian’s eyes were probing, scrutinizing, devoid of the joy I’d expected. He simply nodded slightly. “My pleasure.” I walked away, my heels clicking, straight through the stunned crowd, escaping that revolting funeral home. As I slipped into the car, I finally let my guard down, my body trembling uncontrollably. I wasn’t crazy. I was simply burying my three-year dead marriage with my own hands. Three days ago, I was still planning Damien’s and my third wedding anniversary. He’d said he was going on a business trip to Europe and would return on our anniversary. I believed him. I even prepared a gift for him and booked his favorite restaurant, waiting eagerly. What I got instead was the devastating news of a car crash in the Alps—his vehicle plummeting off a cliff, his body unrecoverable. And a video sent by a foreign friend. The video’s backdrop was the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Damien, wearing the gray coat I’d bought him, was gently putting a necklace on a woman. That woman was his childhood sweetheart, Serena Hayes. That necklace was one I’d bought at an auction, intended as his anniversary gift. He’d taken it a few days prior, claiming he wanted to “check it out early.” In the video, Serena stood on tiptoes and kissed him, her smile bright and triumphant. Damien held her, his eyes overflowing with doting affection. The video’s caption read: “Thank you, my love, the best gift.” The posting time was the day *before* his supposed car accident. I watched the video again and again, from day to night, until my tears ran dry and my heart felt numb. So, his European business trip was a lie. His death in a car crash was a lie too. He simply wanted to use a carefully orchestrated “death” to get rid of me, his inconvenient wife. Then, with the massive fortune he’d inherited from me – my grandfather’s legacy – he planned to live happily ever after with his true love. Damien, how utterly ruthless you are. You probably thought I’d be heartbroken, spending the rest of my miserable life mourning your “remains.” You were wrong. I, Stella, never make a losing deal. You want to pull a disappearing act? I’ll strip you of everything. You want to live happily ever after with your first love? I’ll make you a pauper, and we’ll see if she still sticks by you then. As for your company, your life’s work… I’ll personally hand it over to the man you hate most, letting it become the sharpest knife to stab you in the heart. **2.** My first official meeting with Adrian Steele was at a private club. He was already there when I arrived. The man leaned back on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling around him, obscuring his expression. Seeing me, he stubbed out the cigarette and gestured for me to sit. “Mrs. Thorne, quite the move.” He went straight to the point, a hint of mockery in his tone. I picked up the teacup in front of me and took a sip. “And Mr. Steele isn’t unhappy about it?” He let out a soft chuckle, then leaned forward, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t understand. What’s your game?” “You.” I set down the teacup, meeting his gaze, enunciating each word. “To help you take down Thorne Enterprises.” The air instantly thickened with silence. Adrian’s eyes turned dangerous. He probably thought I was insane – a newly widowed woman, not focused on preserving her husband’s legacy, but instead conspiring with an outsider to ruin her in-laws’ business. “Reason.” He uttered a single word. “Damien Thorne isn’t dead.” This news clearly surprised him; his pupils contracted slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. “So, this is some kind of twisted marital game?” “No,” I shook my head, pulling my tablet from my bag and pushing it towards him. “This is a battle to the death.” On the tablet, the video of Damien and Serena kissing in Paris played on a loop. Adrian took one look and understood everything. “I see.” He leaned back against the sofa, a knowing look on his face. “So, you’re giving me Damien’s entire fortune just to get back at him for cheating?” “Isn’t that enough?” I countered. “Enough. But not enough to fully trust you.” Adrian tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “Ms. Thorne, business isn’t romance. Hatred alone won’t get things done.” “What about this then?” I pulled out a document and pushed it across to him again. “Thorne Enterprises’ project plans for the next six months, core technical data, and…” I looked at him, my voice dropping slightly, “all his shady off-the-books dealings.” I had painstakingly collected all of this information over the past three years, as Damien’s wife. I’d thought I’d never have a reason to use them. Adrian’s expression finally changed. He picked up the document, flipping through it page by page, his eyes widening with each shocking revelation. After reading the last page, he closed the file and looked back at me, his gaze complex. “Stella,” he used my first name for the first time, “what kind of woman are you, exactly?” I smiled, standing up. “One who can help you reach the top.” Our collaboration went exceptionally smoothly. With the internal data I provided, Adrian’s “Apex Innovations” was like a hungry wolf, precisely tearing at the throat of Thorne Enterprises. First, he snatched Thorne’s long-planned new energy project. Then, he poached their most crucial technical team. Thorne’s stock price plummeted, losing nearly ten billion in market value in just half a month. The Thorne family was like ants on a hot griddle. Eleanor and Chloe came to see me several times, their initial curses and threats gradually turning into desperate pleas. They begged me to return the assets to the Thorne family and save Thorne Enterprises. I refused to see them. Public opinion exploded. Everyone called me a “ruthless schemer” and a “vicious viper,” claiming I’d destroyed my husband’s century-old legacy all for a man. I couldn’t care less. **3.** I only wanted Damien to hurt. And he did, just as I wished. He called me countless times from an international number, but I didn’t answer a single one. My phone was flooded with texts. They started with shock and fury: “Stella, you’re insane! Do you know what you’re doing?! That’s *my* money!” “Stop your idiotic actions immediately! Give the money back!” Then came the questioning and confusion: “Why? Was our three years of marriage all a lie?” “What did I ever do to deserve this from you?” Finally, panic and pleading: “Stella, I was wrong. Please come back. Let’s start over.” “Stella, for the sake of what we once had, please just let me go.” I looked at those texts and found them utterly laughable. Until a text from an unfamiliar number caught my attention. “Ms. Thorne, this is Serena Hayes. I think it’s necessary we meet.” I arranged to meet Serena at a coffee shop. She arrived wearing a pristine white dress, her face bare of makeup, hair smoothly draped over her shoulders. She looked fragile and pitiful, like a pure, untouched white lotus. She was a stark contrast to the vibrant, arrogant woman in the video. “Ms. Thorne.” She sat opposite me, her voice soft, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying. I said nothing, merely stirring my coffee, waiting for her to speak. “I know you hate me.” She bit her lip, tears rolling down her cheeks. “What happened with Damien and me, I’m truly sorry. But I beg you, please let him go. He has nothing left.” “And isn’t his having nothing due to me?” I chuckled softly, finding it absurd. “Ms. Hayes, in what capacity are you begging me? As the victor?” My words visibly paled her face, and her tears flowed even faster. “No… I didn’t… I just loved him too much. Ms. Thorne, Damien… he loved you too. He just… made a mistake that any man could make.” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like, planning a fake death to deceive me so he could live happily ever after with you?” Serena’s sobs hitched, and a flicker of panic crossed her face. “No… it’s not what you think. Damien faked his death because… because he was trying to evade a very dangerous business rival! He was afraid of implicating you, that’s why he resorted to such desperate measures!” She explained frantically, as if it were a perfectly reasonable excuse. I watched her pathetic performance, suddenly feeling a bit bored. “Ms. Hayes,” I set down my coffee cup, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “What do you think Damien’s reaction would be if he knew this conversation of ours was fully recorded by me and might ‘accidentally’ leak online?” Serena’s face instantly drained of all color. She stared at me in horror, as if seeing me for the first time. “You… you…” “Me what?” I stood up, looking down at her. “I should thank you, actually. You’ve just delivered a wonderful gift.” With that, I turned and left, leaving her sitting there, her face ashen. **4.** I thought this farce was over. But I was wrong. Damien Thorne came back. He broke into my villa one rainy night. Soaked to the bone, his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot. The once dashing Thorne heir was now a pathetic stray dog. “Stella!” He grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush my bones. “You finally agreed to see me.” I yanked my hand free, stepping back. I looked at him coldly. “Who let you in? Get out.” “I won’t!” he roared, like a trapped beast cornered and desperate. “Tell me why! After all these years we’ve had together, how could you be so cruel?!” “Together?” I laughed, as if hearing the biggest joke. “Damien, you’re talking about us being ‘together’? Where was our ‘togetherness’ when you were holding Serena in Paris? Where was our ‘togetherness’ when you faked your death, trying to make a fool out of me?” My voice was low, but every word was a dagger to his heart. Damien’s face turned white, inch by agonizing inch. “You… you knew?” “Oh yes,” I said, crossing my arms, a sneer on my face. “Thanks to you, I saw everything. It was quite a show.” He staggered backward, his face a mask of disbelief. It took him a long moment to find his voice, a hint of desperate pleading in his tone. “Stella, it’s not what you think. Serena and I… that was fake! It was all part of a business deal, just for show!” “What about the fake death?” I pressed. “Was that for show too?” “Yes!” He frantically grabbed my shoulders. “I really did it to protect you! My rival is ruthless, and I was afraid he’d come after you! This was the only way to keep you safe temporarily!” He sounded sincere, his eyes filled with regret and pain, not like he was faking it. If I hadn’t personally seen him and Serena so intimate in that video, I might have actually believed him. “Damien,” I looked at him, my eyes devoid of warmth. “Save your excuses. They’re disgusting.” His hands froze in mid-air, the light in his eyes slowly dying. “You don’t believe me?” “Why would I believe a liar?” He suddenly laughed, a harsh, desperate sound. “Fine, fine, Stella.” He stared at me, his eyes turning venomous. “Do you really think you’ve won? Do you think Adrian Steele is a good guy? He’s only after you to use you! You gave him everything of mine, and sooner or later, he’ll kick you aside just like I did!” “That’s none of your concern.” “None of my concern?” He seemed provoked, lunging at me suddenly, grabbing my throat. “Stella, don’t push me! I can give you everything, and I can take everything away! Don’t forget how your grandfather built his empire! Your family, the Thornes, owe us!” The pressure on my throat tightened, and I could barely breathe. I looked at his face, twisted with fury, but my heart remained ice cold. My family, owing *his* family? What a ridiculous claim. Just as I was about to suffocate, the villa door burst open.
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