Chapter 1At my father-in-law's funeral, my husband stood at the front with one arm around his mistress and the other holding their three-year-old daughter as they paid their respects.
Me? His legal wife? I was left standing off to the side.
All because he'd warned me beforehand:
"You've always been reasonable. Don't make a scene at Dad's funeral."
"Waverly gave me my only child. She's earned her place. It's only right she attend as my wife."
After the condolences, Waverly passed by me and whispered mockingly,
"You actually came? You've got some nerve."
"Now that my daughter and I have made our public debut, everyone in the capital will recognize me as Mrs. Vaughn. You can't even have kids, you useless woman. What do you have to compete with me?"
Oh? So having a child gives you power? Makes you the rightful Mrs. Vaughn?
I smiled coldly and waved toward my two five-year-old sons standing nearby.
"Boys, come here. Say goodbye to Grandpa."
Children? Who says I don't have any?
But as for the title of Mrs. Vaughn? She can keep it.
...
Every head turned. Eyes locked on me.
The funeral's somber mood shattered—replaced by the electric buzz of fresh gossip.
Waverly pressed herself against Garrison's arm, playing the devoted wife.
Her voice dripped with false concern:
"Really, Linnea, you should go home and rest. Everyone's staring at you—you must be so uncomfortable. No need to embarrass yourself at such an important event."
"Waverly's just looking out for you. The only one who's uncomfortable here is you."
Garrison's tone was casual, but the command was ironclad:
"She brought the Vaughn family's eldest granddaughter. She has more right to be here than you do."
Today he'd said more to me than in months.
Five years of cold war, and we'd become the most familiar of strangers.
The heartbreak, the rage, the depression, the sleepless nights, the wish for death—I'd felt it all.
But now? I could face him without a ripple.
My mother-in-law shot me a withering look, directing her barbs at Garrison but meant for me:
"I've told you a thousand times—cut her loose or you'll regret it!"
"Any daughter-in-law of the Vaughn family must give us an heir. Can't even do that? Then she has no right to show up here."
Garrison frowned slightly when I didn't budge, still standing there unmoved.
"Are you leaving or not? Do you really want to humiliate yourself like this?"
He kept his voice low, trying to save face.
But when I spoke, I made sure everyone heard me:
"Why the hell would I leave? I'm your legal wife, Garrison Vaughn."
"And I'm the legitimate daughter-in-law of this family. As long as I have that marriage license, I have every right to stand here."
I paused, then turned a mocking look on Waverly.
"Do you have one?"
Fury flashed in Waverly's eyes for half a second before tears spilled down her cheeks.
She clutched her daughter and started sobbing dramatically.
Playing the martyr, as always:
"Garrison, Linnea's right. I don't have a license. Even though I gave you a beautiful baby girl... I just don't want her growing up ashamed, called a bastard."
"Maybe I should just go."
She made a show of turning to leave.
Her little girl, right on cue, wiped her mother's tears and wailed at Garrison:
"Daddy, you promised Mommy wouldn't cry! You said you wouldn't let anyone hurt her!"
Then the child pointed a tiny finger at me.
"She's being mean to Mommy! She's a bad person! I won't let her hurt my mommy!"
Mother and daughter wept in perfect harmony, and Garrison ate it up.
He shot me an irritated look.
"Apologize to Waverly and my daughter. Now."
"You need to understand something—I decide who the real wife is here."
"If you keep this up, I don't mind swapping out that marriage license."
It was his final warning.
He still thought I cared about that stupid piece of paper. That I was desperate to cling to him.
What he didn't know? My heart died a long time ago.
The only reason I was standing here today was to secure my sons' inheritance.
Chapter 2
Suddenly, Waverly let out a pained gasp, clutching her stomach. She shoved her daughter into Garrison's arms, all delicate and fragile.
"Babe, I'm not feeling well. Can you hold her for a sec?"
"Ugh—hurk—"
She covered her mouth, miming nausea. Classic morning sickness.
My mother-in-law's eyes lit up. She rushed over to steady Waverly.
"Wait—are you...?"
Waverly gave a shy little nod.
"I was going to wait until after the funeral to tell you and Garrison, but... morning sickness with a boy is so much worse. I barely had any symptoms when I was pregnant with Bellie."
A boy.
My mother-in-law's tear-swollen eyes practically sparkled.
She fawned over Waverly like she was made of glass.
"Why didn't you say something sooner? This is huge for the Vaughn family! The most important thing!"
Garrison's joy was unmistakable. Right there, in front of everyone, he slipped an arm around Waverly's waist and pulled her close.
"You're too thoughtful. You should've told me right away."
Waverly smiled sweetly, then put on her wounded-dove act.
"Today's about Dad. We can talk about this later." She shot me a pitiful glance. "Maybe I really should go..."
Garrison immediately stopped her. "Go? Why would you leave? You gave the Vaughn family a daughter, and now you're carrying a son. If anyone should leave, it sure as hell isn't you."
He said it while staring daggers at me.
"Linnea! Do I need to have security remove you? Are you seriously going to humiliate yourself like this?"
His patience was gone.
"You think I'm the one who's humiliated?"
I laughed softly.
"You're my husband. You cheated, knocked up your mistress, and you don't think you're the embarrassment? I'm the victim here. What do I have to be ashamed of?"
Garrison's temper snapped. He signaled to the security guards behind him.
"Escort her out."
Two guards stepped forward.
I slapped them both across the face—smack, smack.
"Touch me and see what happens."
The guards froze, looking to Garrison for orders.
Before he could respond, Waverly rushed forward and grabbed my hand, all fake sweetness.
"Linnea, please. Don't make a scene. Go home, and I'll have Garrison come talk to you tonight, okay?"
I yanked my hand back.
Next second, Waverly pulled the oldest trick in the mistress playbook—she pretended I shoved her and collapsed to the ground with a theatrical cry.
"Ah—!"
Chapter 3
Gasps erupted around the room.
Garrison's face filled with alarm. He rushed to Waverly and helped her up.
Then he turned and slapped me across the face.
"How dare you hurt Waverly right in front of me?"
My head rang. My cheek burned, the sting radiating into my ear.
Before I could even process it, Garrison snarled:
"Apologize. Now."
I blinked back the tears trying to break free, clenched my jaw, and glared at him with every ounce of hatred I had.
Then I slapped him back. Hard.
Even as I tried to keep my composure, my voice cracked:
"Garrison Vaughn. Listen carefully. The only reason I'm here is to see Dad off. He was good to me. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't be standing in this room."
He frowned, clearly shocked I'd hit him.
Then his expression shifted—calculated, cold. Like he was thinking, I'll break you.
He tilted his head slightly and spoke to one of his men.
"Cut off the medication."
His gaze returned to me, glacial.
"When you're ready to apologize, we'll restart your sister's treatment."
He was so sure of himself. So convinced I'd cave to protect my sister.
What he didn't know was that five years ago, when he cut off her medication during one of our fights, my sister had already died.
Everyone thought my sister was still alive—bedridden with a rare disease, barely more than a vegetable.
Only Garrison's company produced the drug she needed.
For years, I'd put up with his affairs because of her.
No matter how many women he paraded around, I played the dutiful, understanding wife.
But after my sister died, whatever was left between us died too.
One of the funeral guests—some billionaire playing peacemaker—finally spoke up.
"Mrs. Vaughn, why make things difficult? Think of the bigger picture."
I didn't move.
Garrison stared into my eyes, frowning.
"Are you really so heartless now that you don't even care if your own sister lives or dies?"
Even though it had been five years, hearing him mention her felt like drowning all over again.
I was about to scream at him—to tell him he was the one who killed her—when one of his assistants approached, face grim.
"Mr. Vaughn... the hospital says Mrs. Vaughn's sister passed away five years ago."
Garrison's eyes widened in shock.
Then he laughed bitterly.
"So that's why you've been so calm. Your sister's already dead..."
My mother-in-law marched over, cutting him off impatiently.
"Enough of this! You two have been living separately for five years. There's no love left. If your father hadn't stopped me, I would've made you divorce her ages ago."
She looked at me with pure disgust.
"She's humiliated this family long enough. The Vaughns will not tolerate her anymore."
"A shameless woman like her should be thrown out immediately."
Her voice rose, sharp with fury. She turned to the family butler.
"Benson, get this woman out of the Vaughn estate. Throw all her things out with her."
"And notify the press—this woman has nothing to do with the Vaughn family anymore."
Benson bowed respectfully.
"Yes, ma'am. Right away."
