Chapter 1 Clarification

Pool of blood. Miscarriage. Fake marriage.

At 7:00 AM, Hannah Nguyen woke to a pool of blood blooming across the hospital sheets.

The night before crashed back: Nicholas Robinson pinning her down, taking her again and again with brutal rhythm. When his alarm sounded at dawn, he'd dressed and left without a word.

She'd called her own ambulance.

Now the doctor's words echoed in the sterile room. Miscarriage.

Her phone buzzed endlessly. Wendy from PR: [Secretary Nguyen, Mr. Robinson is trending! Photos with Ms. Brown at the airport. PR is melting down.]

She opened the news. There he was—Nicholas, her husband of three years—holding Emily Brown close. Emily, his brother's widow, her husband's body barely cold.

To the world, Hannah was just his secretary. No one knew about the quiet ceremony, the certificate he'd handed her. Money makes things easy, he'd said.

After the D&C, a nurse brought forms. "Your husband needs to sign for insurance."

"I'll sign."

"You're married? Maternity coverage could apply."

"For three years."

The nurse returned minutes later, hesitant. "The system shows you as single. We can't process it."

Single.

The word hung in the air. Hannah paid in cash, her hands steady while her world crumbled.

She drove straight to the records office. Same result. Hannah Nguyen: Single. Nicholas Robinson: Single.

The "marriage certificate" was a beautifully crafted lie. Legally, they were strangers.

At Robinson Enterprises, chaos reigned. Reporters swarmed the lobby.

"He's not answering!" Wendy panicked.

Hannah's PR mask snapped into place, the pain in her abdomen a distant thrum. "Issue a statement. Comfort for a grieving friend. Press conference in thirty minutes."

It was the seventeenth time she'd cleaned up his mess with Emily. She was an expert.

Afterward, her assistant Tina lowered her voice. "Ms. Nguyen, Mr. Robinson just signed a transfer. Ms. Brown starts Monday as Product Development Manager."

The position Hannah had bled six months for. The project she'd built.

"He's also reassigned your active projects to her. Says she can handle the follow-up."

Hannah nodded, eyes stinging.

Last night, his body moving over hers, the name he'd groaned in the dark.

"Emily..."

She hadn't misheard.

The resignation letter was already printed.

HR Manager Ella Garcia looked surprised. "Does Mr. Robinson know?"

"Process it normally. Thirty-day notice."

The fake marriage had one silver lining: no messy divorce. Just thirty days, and she was free.

Her phone buzzed.

Nicholas: [Bring painkillers and hot milk. Golden Delight Hotel. Room 010.]

Then Emily's Facebook message: [Hannah! I'm back! Nicholas is throwing me a 'new beginning' party tonight. I know it's soon after Charles, but he insists I need to move forward. You'll come celebrate, right? So happy for me?]

A cold laugh escaped Hannah's lips.

Happy her husband's corpse was cold while she clung to his brother? Happy she was taking everything Hannah had built?

She grabbed her keys.

Golden Delight Hotel's private room hummed with laughter. Nicholas sat at the head, Emily radiant beside him. Clients and executives filled the table.

"Ah, the formidable Ms. Nguyen!" client Tom Hill boomed. "Perfect timing! We're toasting Ms. Brown taking over your project. A farewell drink to your hard work!"

Emily demurred. "Tom, please. I could never fill Hannah's shoes. I'm just here to help Nicholas carry the load."

Nicholas's cold eyes found Hannah. "The items?"

She placed the painkillers and milk on the table.

"So sorry for the trouble," Emily said, not sounding sorry at all. "I had a headache. Nicholas fussed so much."

Nicholas opened the milk, tested its temperature against his wrist, and handed it to Emily. A simple, intimate gesture that screamed everything.

Hannah watched, the final piece of her heart icing over.

"Late means penalties!" Tom pushed three shot glasses toward her. "Bottoms up!"

"I'm on antibiotics. I can't drink."

Emily's eyes widened with innocent concern. "You took antibiotics knowing we'd be celebrating? Hannah, if you have a problem with me being here, just say it. Nicholas, maybe I should—"

"She doesn't have a problem." Nicholas's voice cut the air, his gaze pinning Hannah with silent command. "It's just alcohol. Drink. Toast Emily's new role."

The cramps in her abdomen twisted sharply. Hannah looked at the clear liquor, then at the man who had taken everything—her child, her marriage, her work, her dignity.

She lifted her head, a serene, chilling smile curving her pale lips.

The room quieted, sensing a shift.

"Last night," Hannah said, her voice clear and carrying, "when you were fucking me, I was bleeding. Didn't you notice that either?"

The glass in Nicholas's hand froze halfway to his mouth.

All sound died.