Chapter 1

I was kidnapped, and so was my husband's first love, Sabrina Lowe. We were tied to separate chairs, connected by a complicated timed bomb. The red digits blinked like open wounds. The kidnappers told us that when the timer hit zero, only one of us would live. The choice was in my husband, Ethan Blake's, hands. Through a video call, he stared at us, face ashen, sweat beading across his forehead. Sabrina wept like a tragic heroine, her voice hoarse. "Ethan, save me! I don't want to die! We made a promise that we'd be together forever!" I, on the other hand, was perfectly calm. I simply looked at the man I knew better than anyone and asked softly, "Who do you choose?" He hesitated, torn, his gaze flicking between me and Sabrina. Finally, he shut his eyes, as if the decision drained every bit of strength from him, and with a trembling hand, he pointed at Sabrina. "... Save her." … I smiled. Not bitterly. Not in pain. But with a deep, unburdened relief. I nodded to the kidnapper holding the phone. "That's enough. Untie me." He obeyed instantly, freeing my wrists with utmost care. I stood, flexing my stiff hands, and walked toward the still-sobbing Sabrina, who stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly lost. I crouched down, brushed away the tears clinging to her cheeks, and smiled. "Don't be afraid. I hired them. I just wanted to hear the truth." Her sobs stopped cold. Her pupils shrank in shock. On the other end of the call, Ethan froze, staring blankly at me. I ignored them both, took my phone from the kidnapper, and dialed my lawyer, Robert Hayes, on loudspeaker. "Mr. Hayes, my husband has made his choice. "You may initiate plan B for our divorce. Make sure he leaves with his true love and not a single cent from my world." "You're insane! Alexis Grant, you're a lunatic!" On the screen, Ethan finally snapped, his voice breaking into a hysterical roar. I tossed the phone to the kidnapper, who hung up without hesitation. Sabrina, who was still tied to her chair, shook violently and looked at me like I was the devil himself. "Why… why would you do this?" I looked down at her. "Why? You're carrying his child, and you're asking me why?" Her face went ghostly white. I curled my lips in disdain, already bored with the sight of her. "Michael, take her outside. I don't want her filth in my space." The shadows in the corner shifted, and two more kidnappers emerged. They lifted the limp Sabrina without a word and dragged her out. The warehouse doors then slammed shut. I don't care who leaked the footage, but by morning, the kidnapping had gone viral. I, the heiress of Grant Corporation, had staged the entire thing to test my husband, and in the end, left him penniless. The internet exploded. Some called me ruthless. Others praised me. But most of them dug into Ethan and Sabrina's so-called legendary romance. "They're the real lovers. They've been together since college. If Alexis hadn't used her money to steal him away, they would've been married long ago. "Poor Ethan—married to such a control freak. He can't even speak his mind." "Who in this world can resist the lure of money? He only made the same mistake any man would." Everyone was waiting for my response. Three days later, Ethan signed the divorce papers. The court awarded me full rights to all marital assets. When I pulled up to the villa my parents had bought me, the gate was swarmed with reporters. The moment they saw my car, they charged forward, bumping their microphones against my window and causing a loud metallic screech. "Ms. Grant, do you regret ending your marriage in such an extreme way?" "Do you have anything to say to Mr. Blake and Ms. Lowe?" The noise gave me a headache. I rolled down my window, took off my sunglasses, and winked at the cameras. "Why would I regret it? A man who can be stolen that easily is trash, and trash belongs in the dumpster. I was just doing my civic duty by taking the trash out to where it belonged." When I finished speaking, I gave them a flawless smile—the smile of a victor. I won, and I'd won beautifully. However, my phone lit up, and under the day's top headline, a top-liked comment hit me like a blade to the gut. It read, "Any woman who could kill her own child has to be sick in the head. Poor Ethan."