After our marriage, Peter took care of everything. From managing the aftermath of my father’s laboratory explosion to handling the business affairs of the group, he arranged it all meticulously.
Having endured the agony of losing my father and the double betrayal of my fiancé and stepsister, I had nearly convinced myself that Peter was the hero sent to save me. I clung to him, desperate and drowning, seeking refuge in his presence. Without hesitation, I entrusted him with my father’s experiment logs and test reports, believing he would uncover the truth. When he told me that Lilly had been confined to an institute for investigation, I had no reason to doubt him. Not until the eve of the new drug launch did I catch the first scent of deception.
That evening, Peter mentioned that some critical information was missing and that he needed to retrieve it from the study in the old mansion. The moonlight cascaded down the staircase like a layer of cold mercury as I followed his path. By accident, I kicked over an old ceramic piggy bank from my childhood. The shards scattered with a clear, mournful sound, revealing a platinum wedding ring nestled among them.
Inside the band, a name was engraved—"Widdy Young"—my mother’s name. Though worn with age, the inscription still bore its weight in memory. It was a relic my father had locked away after my mother died in childbirth. I held the ring carefully in my palm, my heart heavy with sentiment, before turning to leave.
As I passed by my stepmother’s room, her shrill laughter sent an icy chill through my spine.
“The iris diaphragm has been implanted into the system,” she cackled. “Rest assured, Mr. Peter.”
My breath hitched. Peter was supposed to be in the study—so why was he entangled with Lilly’s mother? Before I could process my thoughts, the sound of his approaching footsteps sent me scrambling into the shadows. I remained silent. I did not confront him. At that moment, my phone vibrated, displaying an anonymous video.
On the screen, a rosewood box was being loaded into the trunk of a Porsche. The gleam of a copper lock reflected off the surface—briefly catching the light from Peter’s wedding ring.
Then my father’s dying murmur echoed in my mind like an explosion. "Launch... gift..."
Dread coiled in my stomach, but I suppressed it, forcing myself to wait for the day of the new drug launch. That day, I had an excuse to visit the lab, intending to check a set of data.
Through the observation window of the blast-proof lab, I overheard Peter speaking with the technical director.
“Mr. Peter, three years ago, you altered your merger plans just to claim Moan's core technology in name?” the director asked in a hushed voice. “And the surveillance footage of the gas leak…”
Peter’s voice was steady, chillingly indifferent.
“Only by becoming the Moan Family’s son-in-law—only as Jessie’s husband—could I bury the evidence and keep her out of prison. And ensure that Lilly received the complete technical data she needed to fulfill her ambitions.”
“She will continue her research in the sterile room,” he added coolly. “As for these business stains… I will take care of them.”
“But what about Jessie?” the technical director asked hesitantly. “She will be at the launch. What will you do about her?”
Peter’s response was crisp, unwavering. “No need to worry. I only ever said Lilly was cooperating with the investigation. The surveillance footage from back then is already hidden. Jessie’s test report may prove the accident wasn’t an accident, but it cannot prove Lilly was responsible.”
In that instant, my entire world collapsed. He had orchestrated this three years ago, extending his reach into my father’s company, planting his influence where I had once believed I was safe. The home I thought was my sanctuary was, in reality, a bulletproof glass prison—built to shield Lilly.
My stepmother’s laughter in the old mansion, the anonymous video on my phone—it all connected now. His claim that Lilly was detained for investigation had been nothing more than a convenient lie. He had stolen my father’s lab logs and core technology, giving Lilly a hidden haven where she could sit back and enjoy the rewards. And today’s new drug launch was nothing but a grand feast where they would revel in the fruits of my father’s labor.
I had believed fate had shown me mercy, sending a hero to save me from ruin. But how laughable—those technology transfer agreements stamped with my wedding ring, the bright red handprints on the accident report—had already nailed me to the altar.
I had been nothing more than a stepping stone for their fame and fortune. My entire body trembled, fury and despair colliding in my chest. I had been so stupid. I thought I had finally found someone to trust. But I had been living inside an elaborate lie all along.
