"Nobody said anything."
"I was just feeling sentimental. If I hadn't let Edna drink that fruit wine back then, maybe your child would already be four years old."
Damian's expression visibly tightened. His spine went rigid, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
"Serena, how could I possibly have a child with that worthless girl? I'd rather die alone than have a child with her."
I let out a cold laugh, bracing myself as I slowly made my way toward the bedroom. My fingers were clenched around the message Edna had just sent me.
"Serena, do you know what Damian says about you? The high-and-mighty heiress—worse than a whore."
"Oh, and to prove his devotion to me, every time you stripped down to seduce him, he made sure to video-call me. I figured I shouldn't let it go to waste, so I set up a livestream. Over a million viewers tuned in. Everyone said you really know how to put on a show."
Damian Ashford, if you betray me, I will not rest. I will make you pay for every last thing.
I deleted every message in silence. No confrontation. No screaming.
Because I knew—if screaming solved problems, the world wouldn't be ruled by tigers. It would be ruled by donkeys.
The five-year joint venture between our families wrapped up on schedule.
I deliberately chose Blueberry Hills Estate and invited every relative, friend, and business partner to celebrate together.
That day, I prepared a special gift for Damian. He grinned and asked what I had in store.
A set of lingerie? Some new trick I'd learned?
I just smiled and told him it would be something he'd never forget.
Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the gala as glasses clinked and laughter swelled. Damian took my hand and led me onto the stage.
Fireworks burst overhead, marking the success of the Calloway-Ashford partnership.
I smiled as I accepted the contract, securing the profits that rightfully belonged to my family.
As thunderous applause filled the room, I took the microphone and swept my gaze across every face in the crowd.
"Distinguished guests, dear friends and family—today isn't just the successful conclusion of the Calloway-Ashford partnership. It's also the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Damian."
"Tonight, I have a very special gift for him. I'd like everyone here to witness Damian Ashford's five years of devotion to me."
The applause died down. Several bodyguards carried in two enormous crates, each wrapped in silk ribbon tied into elaborate bows.
I smiled softly and nudged Damian toward the crates, gesturing for him to open them.
The entire room went still. Necks craned. Every pair of eyes fixed on those oversized crates, wondering what extravagant gift could possibly be inside.
Damian gave my cheek an indulgent pinch, then reached for the latch. The clasp snapped open with a sharp click, and he threw back the lid.
Under his stunned gaze, a woman slowly rose from inside the crate. The instant her eyes landed on Damian, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.
"Honey! You scared me half to death! Didn't you tell me to bring our son back for the celebration?"
"We'd barely gotten off the plane before someone shoved us into a crate—you're awful! You can't scare people like that!"
Her tears dissolved into giggles as she wrapped her arms around Damian's neck.
Three seconds of dead silence.
Then the room erupted.
"What's going on? Why is this woman calling Damian her husband?"
"She has a son? I thought Damian couldn't have children!"
The color drained from Damian's face. He spun around and wrenched open the second crate. Inside, his son lay with his eyes shut tight, fast asleep.
Damian lunged forward and scooped the boy into his arms, shouting his name.
But the little one just slumped against his shoulder, limp and motionless.
Panic flooded Damian's eyes. He patted the child's back once, twice, three times—then his gaze snapped to me.
"Serena, what did you do to Hugo?"
I walked forward with a cold smile, my gaze cutting into him like a blade.
"Damian, why are you so worked up? Don't tell me this is your son."
"Oh, right—I almost forgot. Our dear Mr. Ashford suffered that terrible car accident. He shouldn't be able to father such an adorable child."
As I spoke, I let the tip of my manicured nail trace lightly down the boy's cheek, leaving a thin red line.
Damian froze. Not even a full second passed before he forced a smile onto his panicked face.
"Serena, don't misunderstand. This child... this child is..."
In the scramble for an answer, even the great and cunning CEO Ashford couldn't produce a plausible excuse.
Then something seemed to click. He thrust the boy toward me without hesitation.
"Serena, this is Edna's little nephew. She knows we can't have children of our own, so out of gratitude, she offered him to us—to raise as our son."
His voice steadied as he spoke, and he grew visibly pleased with himself for landing on such a convenient story.
"Serena, look how adorable he is. You've always wanted a child, haven't you? Good things come to good people. Edna was so grateful for everything we did for her that she gave us a child of her own."
Edna watched the boy pass into my arms and couldn't help herself. She lurched forward, but Damian caught her by the arm and shot her a warning glare.
I took my time, smoothing the boy's downy hair, letting the sharp edge of my nail drag across his soft cheek again and again, each stroke leaving a pale line on his skin.
I watched Edna's eyes rim red, tears pooling and threatening to spill. I savored the way Damian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with every nervous gulp.
Then, in one swift motion, I closed my hand around the boy's throat and snarled:
"Edna Fox—you've already lost one son to a miscarriage. Do you want this one to die in my hands?"
Edna's face drained of color. A shrill scream tore through the banquet hall:
"Serena Calloway! That is Damian's son—you can't hurt him!"
