Long ago, in the quiet countryside of Sussex, I bore the child of my husband’s mistress without ever knowing the truth—until it was nearly too late. Now they sought to rid themselves of me, to claim my fortune as their own. But they did not reckon with the love of a powerful man who would see them ruined.
I told Maurice everything. Each word I spoke felt strange upon my tongue, as though I were reciting another woman’s tragedy, not my own. Yet this was no borrowed tale—it was my torment, my truth. My voice trembled, and more than once, I feared I could not go on. But I had to be free of it.
“The child… the child I bore,” I whispered, barely audible, “was not mine.”
He frowned, confusion darkening his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Someone switched the embryo,” I continued, choking on the horror of it. “They replaced it with another—one that carried my husband’s blood… and his mistress’s.”
Maurice stared at me as if struck by lightning. “What?”
“Yes,” I said. “They wanted me to carry it, to birth it, to name it as my own… and then kill me.”
So the babe would inherit all—the estate, the trust, everything.
From my purse, I drew a small drive. “I have proof. There’s a recording.”
He took it without a word, hands stiff with tension, and slid it into his laptop. The screen flickered to life, casting shadows across his face. And then he saw them—my husband and his lover, my executioner.
There they were, bare and laughing, whispering sweet poison between false kisses. And then, as if it were nothing, they spoke of me.
“Soon that fool will deliver,” the woman sneered. “Tell me, when do we dispose of her?”
“Wait until the child is registered,” my husband replied coldly. “Once it’s done… I’ll arrange an accident. Cut the brakes. Make it seem a twist of fate.”
“Cut the brakes?” She scoffed. “This isn’t some penny dreadful. We need something… final.”
“I’ve spent a king’s ransom to have your friend Mary assist us at the clinic. Swapping embryos was no small feat—nor cheap. I’ve had to feign losses just to cover the expense. This cannot fail, Clara. It cannot.”
The recording ended.
Maurice rose to his feet—the feared titan of industry, the lion who roared in boardrooms, the ruthless man who crushed rivals without hesitation. Now, he shook with fury, breath ragged, eyes burning.
“They’re dead,” he snarled. “I’ll destroy them myself if I must!”
“No!” I caught his arm, desperate. “Not yet.”
He looked at me as if I’d gone mad. Perhaps I had.
“First… I want them to suffer. To burn in their own wretchedness, as I burned in silence. I want them to fear, to stare into the mirror and see the hell they’ve made. I want… vengeance.”
Maurice stepped closer, searching my face with an intensity I could not fathom. And then, he nodded.
“Very well. If this is what you wish, I will help you.”
I stared, stunned. “What…?”
“I will help you,” he repeated, voice steel. “If you want them to pay… I will ensure they do. Dearly.”
We’d strip them of everything—peace, power, security. All of it.
My chest ached, breath coming in short bursts. Tears blurred my vision, disbelief still clinging.
“Why…?” I whispered. “Why would you help me, Maurice?”
For a moment, he lowered his gaze. Then he met my eyes again, and in them was something I could not name—but longed to understand.
“Why do you think you came to me, Evelyn?” he murmured. “Why… to me, of all people?”
I had no answer. My gaze fell, but in that moment, honesty spilled forth.
“I don’t know… I only knew… this was the only place I felt safe. I had nowhere else to go. And here… I was not afraid.”
Maurice closed the distance. His hands settled on my shoulders, warm and steady. And for the first time in so long, the fear ebbed.
“This shall always be your refuge, Evelyn,” he vowed. “No one will touch you here. No one will harm you again. You have me.”
I trembled. “But you should not be involved. It’s too dangerous—”
Then he shouted, voice shaking the very air:
“I involve myself because I care for you! Because… I have always loved you, Evelyn! Always!”
The world stilled.
I had expected many things—dismissal, counsel, reproach—but never this. Never love. Not when my life lay in ruins. Not when I was little more than ashes of a broken woman.
And yet… there he stood. Loving me amidst the wreckage.
