1 The car with my wife’s illegitimate son exploded. My firefighter wife Isabelle was on scene—but only to teach her lover Richard how to fight the fire. As the child screamed inside the burning wreck, Richard whined: “This extinguisher is too big and scary! I need a baby one!” Isabelle smiled fondly, ignored the inferno, and sent someone to buy a child-sized extinguisher. Its weak spray only angered the flames, singeing Richard’s hair. He cried and demanded to go home. To comfort him, Isabelle ordered everyone to stop fighting the fire. “He tried his best!” she crooned, stroking his hair. “Naughty fire, I’ll punish it for you later.” As she led him away, she whispered coldly to me: “I came to confirm that bastard son of yours is dead. Did you really think I didn’t know you swapped Leo into our family to inherit the Vance fortune? His death saves me the trouble.” “Clean up. Have a plaque made for Richard. And you, keep those ashes as a reminder.” I froze, then smiled coldly. She thought the burning child was mine. Too bad, it was actually her bastard son with Richard. … Watching the two of them walk away, practically intertwined, I let out a bitter laugh. "And what should the plaque say? 'For Outstanding Moral Depravity'?" At my words, Richard lifted his head from Isabelle’s shoulder, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice trembled, thick with a wounded, nasal tone. "Adrian… how could you say that about Isabelle and me? We tried so hard to save him, but… but it was like Leo didn't want to be saved." The sheer absurdity of the statement made me frown. He flinched as if I’d struck him and hid behind Isabelle, tugging at the hem of her uniform. "I think… I think I heard him crying 'just leave me alone.' That's why Isabelle and I… we were too scared to get any closer." The words were a poison dart, sinking deep into Isabelle’s heart. Her already sour expression turned venomous. "Did you hear that?" she snapped. "Richard said it himself. The little bastard wanted to die!" "Richard got hurt trying to save that thing! What right do you have to judge us?" I looked at the back of Richard's head, nestled in the crook of her neck. The sliver of exposed skin was perfectly clean, without a speck of soot you’d expect from fighting a fire. I had no doubt they’d arrived hoping that both Leo and I would perish in the flames. After all, it was my primary car that had been targeted. Unfortunately for them, I already knew what was coming. The child who was supposed to be in that car with me was nowhere near here. A mocking smile touched my lips. "Isabelle, you halted a rescue operation to comfort this 'hero' because of some nonsense he claims he heard?" Isabelle's brow furrowed. She pulled Richard closer, her voice sharp with impatience. "Stop your pathetic games, Adrian. Richard was trying to help. You, on the other hand, your son is dead and all you can think about is stirring up trouble." "Clean this up, and get that plaque made. Don't make me tell you twice." "Tell me?" My gaze swept over them, cold and sharp. The air crackled with the pressure of a man long accustomed to command, and a palpable chill ran down the spines of everyone present. "Isabelle, have you forgotten who gave you the name 'Mrs. Vance'?" "Have you forgotten who pulled strings to secure your position as Fire Captain? You think you're in any position to tell me anything?" The color drained from her face as if I’d hit a nerve. Her voice rose to a shriek. "Don't you push me, Adrian! This was an arranged marriage between our families! You can't hold that over my head!" She gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with a hatred I usually reserved for my worst enemies. "Besides, don't think for a second I don't know what you've done. Leo is not my son! He's just some bastard you brought home after one of your affairs!" As they walked away, my nails dug into my palms. I’d been holding onto some shred of decency, some lingering memory of our marriage. But her words—bastard, affair—had obliterated my last ounce of compassion. My assistant’s usually calm voice was tinged with anger. "Mr. Vance, should I stop her? We need to know what the Thorne family is planning." I turned slowly, my eyes scanning the wreckage. "Where is Leo?" He glanced at the retreating pair and lowered his voice. "The boy's security detail reports he is safe, sir. To be certain, I've already had him taken to the main estate. He should be there by now." I nodded and got into my car. "Secure all surveillance footage from the scene. Every word Isabelle said, especially the order to halt the rescue. And I want to know why she was so convinced Leo wasn't her son. Start with Richard. I want a complete, unbroken chain of evidence." He nodded respectfully. Sensing my exhaustion, he quietly told the driver to go. I was rubbing my temples when a thought struck me, and my eyes snapped open. "And send a plaque to the hospital. A big one. Make sure it's addressed specifically to Dr. Richard Croft." I saw the barely concealed frustration on my assistant’s face. I murmured a few more words, and his expression instantly brightened. "Sir, I will see to it with the utmost diligence." Just then, his phone rang. His face changed as he listened. "Mr. Vance, there's a problem with the Apex contract. They're trying to pull out." "Turn around. We're going to the office." I took one last look at the smoldering carcass of the car, and the last flicker of warmth in my eyes died. I gave you a chance, Isabelle. It was two hours later when the crisis was finally averted. I took my phone, and it immediately lit up with a flood of missed calls, vibrating violently in my hand. I glanced at the name, dismissed my team with a wave, and answered. A furious roar erupted from the other end. "Adrian, are you insane?! Why did you send that plaque to the hospital? Do you want Richard to become a laughingstock?" I leaned back in my chair, my voice deceptively calm. "A laughingstock? You're the one who wanted a plaque made for him. I was simply following your orders. Or is Dr. Croft's 'heroic' firefighting something to be ashamed of?" "You—!" She was speechless, sputtering with rage. "I'm warning you, Adrian, take that plaque down and get those pictures offline! Or I'll make your life a living hell!" "Whether my life is hell or not is not for you to decide," I said with a cold, undisguised laugh. "Isabelle, you should be more concerned with how you're going to explain to your colleagues, and the entire internet, why you abandoned a rescue to coddle your little pet." "Oh, and by the way," I added, "I have the surveillance footage. All of it." The breathing on the other end became ragged, followed by the sharp click of her hanging up. I tossed the phone onto my desk, a smirk on my face. That was Isabelle. All threats, no substance. A few moments later, there was a knock on my office door. My assistant, Marcus, entered, his face grim. "Sir. We found it." I looked up, my suspicions solidifying into fact. "First," he began, "Mrs. Vance believes Leo isn't her son because Richard gave her a forged paternity test." He handed me a file with photos of the document. "We've confirmed it's a fake. The real test was done three years ago. Leo is, without a doubt, your biological son." My fingers rested on the image of the fake report, the cold seeping into my skin. Three years ago, right after Leo was born, Isabelle had been called away for a classified mission. I had begged her to stay, to recover, but she was pathologically ambitious. I had no choice but to let her go. I hired the best childcare specialists and stepped back from the company to raise our son, sending her photos and videos every day so she wouldn't worry. When she returned, she was... different. Colder. So that's when Richard had made his move. "Furthermore," Marcus continued, "the illegitimate child… was never hers to begin with." I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Not that she'd cheat—I knew everything about her before our families arranged the marriage, including her childhood sweetheart. She had been smart enough to send Richard abroad and play the part of a devoted wife. I just hadn't expected them to rekindle things so quickly. Their son was born only six months after Leo. I remember the disgust I felt when I found out. That was the day our marriage truly died. That was the day my plan began. No one crosses me and walks away unscathed. But now, I almost had to laugh. Isabelle was so desperate to install her lover's son as the heir, she never even bothered to confirm if the child was actually hers. "Finally, today's explosion." Marcus's voice dropped. "We have footage of one of Richard's distant cousins loitering near the vehicle just before the incident. We've also traced the explosive materials back to a source connected to Richard." "Our preliminary conclusion is that Richard orchestrated the entire event. The goal was to eliminate you and your son in what would look like an accident, allowing him to move in with his own child. Even if one of you survived, he knew Mrs. Vance's suspicion and animosity would do the rest. The Thorne family has been waiting for an opportunity like this for years." The office was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner. "I see," I said finally, my voice like ice. "He played his hand well." I tapped my fingers on the desk, gazing out at the city skyline. From the sixty-eighth floor, Vance Tower stood as a monument to a century of power. But this city was a jungle of old money and ambition. No single family could reach the summit without being pulled down by the others. But the time had come for a shift in the balance. This was a game of chess I had been setting up for ten years. I looked at Marcus. We both knew what came next. "It's time. The Thorne family enterprises, Richard's backers at the hospital… leave nothing standing. He dared to touch my son. He dared to try and destroy my family. He will not walk away from this." "Yes, sir," Marcus said, his voice firm. "I'll make the arrangements immediately." It was late when I finally left the office. The moment I reached my gated community, I knew something was wrong. The regular security guards were gone, replaced by strangers who demanded I get out of the car for an identity check. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. When one of them reached for my door handle, I ordered my driver to ram the gate. Ignoring the shouts and curses behind us, I strode toward my house. A pungent, acrid smell of smoke hit me before I even reached the door. Inside, it was a scene of desecration. Blue wallpaper, silk curtains, Leo's Transformers—all of it was piled in trash bags. In their place were black funeral banners, white chrysanthemums, and a portrait. Everything that belonged to me and my son had been erased. In the center of the living room, Isabelle sat on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. Richard was curled up against her, fiddling with a new, child-sized fire extinguisher. He waggled it at me when I entered. "Oh, Adrian, you're back! Isabelle and I thought the decor was a bit dated, so we gave it a little refresh. What do you think? Much more suitable, isn't it?" My eyes drifted to a pile of smoldering ashes in the corner. I could just make out the melted plastic of Leo's toy cars, the charred remains of our photos, and the scorched wood of a family heirloom. I turned to her, a storm gathering in my eyes. "Isabelle," I said, my voice dangerously quiet, "did you burn my things?" "I did," she said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "And we held a lovely little funeral for your son, too. Do you like it?" The beautiful, airy room had been turned into a mausoleum. A photo of Leo had been blown up and crudely edited into a funeral portrait. Richard giggled, snuggling closer to her. "Tsk, tsk, Adrian. So careless. Couldn't even save your own son from a little fire. Now there's not even a body to bury." "Don't worry," Isabelle added, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "We've set up a memorial for him. And now, my darling Richard and our son will inherit the Vance fortune." I looked at his smug, triumphant face and let out a cold laugh. He was so pleased with himself, and he still had no idea whose son had actually died in that car. I strode forward and smashed the funeral portrait on the floor. "You've done a wonderful job with this memorial, Richard. Who knows, maybe your own son will get to use it one day." Isabelle stubbed out her cigarette, looking down her nose at me. "Don't be ungrateful, Adrian. Richard went to all this trouble for you. Besides, he's been getting death threats online because of you. If you know what's good for you, you'll apologize to him and stay out of my way. Be a good little house husband, and maybe, in time, I'll consider giving you another child. We are still married, after all." "Married?" The word was so absurd I had to savor it. There was no humor in my eyes. "Isabelle, I was going to give you a shred of dignity, for old times' sake. But I see now that would be a waste." I took out my phone and dialed my assistant. "Change the divorce agreement. All assets revert to me. Isabelle Thorne leaves with nothing. Bring it here. Now." Isabelle's face contorted. "Adrian! You wouldn't dare! This was an arranged marriage! If you divorce me, you'll be the laughingstock of the Vance family!" "An arranged marriage?" I arched an eyebrow, looking down at her from my full height. "Have you forgotten, Isabelle? Three years ago, when the Thorne family was on the brink of collapse, who bailed you out with a billion-dollar investment? That was my family. An arrangement implies a partnership between equals. Do you really think the Thorne family is our equal anymore?" Her face flushed, but before she could retort, I signed the papers and slid them across the table. Along with them, I tossed down the paternity test results for Richard's son. A little divorce present. "Sign it, Isabelle. Or in a few minutes, you won't even have the option of leaving with the clothes on your back." "Oh, and one more thing. Your crown is crooked." "What are you talking about?" she whispered, her hand trembling over the pen. Just then, her phone rang. The caller ID read 'Mom.' She snatched it up like a lifeline. "Mom! Adrian is trying to divorce me! He's trying to cut me off without a penny! You have to talk to him!" There was a moment of silence, then a choked, hysterical sob from the other end. "Isabelle! Forget the divorce! The Thorne family is ruined! And the child in that car… it was Richard's son, Felix! The police just called me to identify the body!"
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