The fallout from the banquet spread faster than wildfire.
By morning, Lina's name dominated every financial column and social media feed. Fraud. Manipulation. Deception. The once-pitied "fragile heiress" was now a public disgrace, escorted out of meetings and erased from elite guest lists overnight.
And with her fall came something I had expected but still found bitter.
My family came knocking.
I was reviewing documents in my new office when my assistant hesitated at the door. "Miss… your parents are here. They insist on seeing you."
Parents.
The word felt foreign.
"Let them in," I said calmly.
They entered stiffly, eyes darting around the room at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the minimalist luxury, the unmistakable signs of status. My mother's lips parted slightly in shock. My father cleared his throat, his usual authority noticeably absent.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then my mother rushed forward. "We didn't know," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "We really didn't know Lina was lying. If we had"
"If you had," I interrupted softly, "you would've believed her anyway."
Silence slammed into the room.
My father frowned. "That's not fair"
"Isn't it?" I asked, meeting his eyes without flinching. "You believed her illness without proof. You believed her tears without question. And when I said I was wronged, you told me to endure. To be understanding. To sacrifice."
My mother's eyes reddened. "We were trying to keep the family together."
"You broke it instead."
Her shoulders slumped.
Then came the words I'd waited years to hear.
"We're sorry," my father said stiffly. "Come home. We'll make it up to you."
I smiled faintly.
"No," I said.
They froze.
"I didn't rebuild my life just to return to the place that destroyed me. I don't need compensation. I don't need apologies made too late."
My mother reached for my hand. I stepped back.
"You chose," I continued. "Now live with it."
They left shortly after, defeated, regret carved deep into their faces.
I should have felt satisfied.
Instead, my chest felt heavy.
That night, Aaron called.
Again.
And again.
I ignored the first six calls.
The seventh came while I stood alone on my balcony, city lights glowing below. I answered—not because I cared, but because I wanted closure.
"I was wrong," he said immediately, voice hoarse. "About everything. Lina. You. Us."
I leaned against the railing. "You've already said that."
"I didn't just lose you," he continued desperately. "I lost everything. My reputation, my future"
"And now you understand pain?" I cut in. "Congratulations."
There was a pause. Then his voice dropped. "I can't sleep. I can't eat. I see you everywhere. Please… give me one chance. One dinner. One conversation."
I closed my eyes.
Once, I would've begged for that conversation.
Now it felt… empty.
"I'm not your second choice," I said quietly. "And I'm not your regret."
When I hung up, my hands were shaking not from weakness, but from something else entirely.
A sudden wave of dizziness hit me.
I frowned, pressing a hand to my stomach.
It had been happening lately. The nausea. The exhaustion. The strange sensitivity to smells.
I had ignored it.
I couldn't anymore.
Behind me, the balcony door opened.
My ally stepped out, his expression sharpening instantly when he saw my face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said automatically.
He didn't believe me.
"You've been pushing yourself too hard," he said, stepping closer. "Revenge isn't meant to consume you."
I looked up at him, the city lights reflected in his eyes. "What if it already has?"
He hesitated, then said quietly, "Then I'll pull you back."
My heart skipped.
Dangerous words.
Dangerous promise.
As he guided me inside, his hand lingering just a second too long at my waist, a terrifying thought crossed my mind
If I really was pregnant…
This war would no longer be just about revenge.
It would be about protection.
And nothing not my ex, not my family, not the past would ever touch what was mine again.