Chapter 1

It was the third year of me being his stand-in when Alexander's first love returned.

Before he could even open his mouth to dismiss me, I dutifully packed my bags.

With all the money Alexander had given me over the years, I left the country to study.

Five years later, I earned my Ph.D., joined a top-tier law firm, and fulfilled my youthful dreams.

But I never expected my first case to be Alexander.

It was his divorce from his first love, Seraphina.

I skimmed through the thick stack of documents; things didn't look good for him.

Alexander didn't recognize me. He rambled on about asset division, debt classification, and other such matters.

Mid-sentence, his voice suddenly hitched, his gaze fixed on a long scar beneath the collar of my shirt.

I met his eyes directly, my voice light and easy.

"Long time no see, Alexander."

"Long time no see... Anya."

I raised an eyebrow, following his gaze, and looked down myself.

This scar across my chest—I once saw it as my shame.

It was about six or seven years ago, back when I was still Alexander's mistress.

To make me more like his first love, he demanded I replicate even Seraphina's heart condition.

For that surgery, I was practically forced onto the operating table.

I resisted, I struggled, but he threatened me with my gravely ill mother.

He watched as they forcibly injected me with anesthesia, watched my humiliated tears.

I still remember how he looked at me back then, full of appreciation.

"That defiant spark in you, it's just like hers."

When I woke up, he was sitting by my bed, smiling as he congratulated me.

"The surgery was a success, Anya. You're more and more like her, and I'm very pleased."

"I've had the special medication for your mother flown in from abroad, and your brother's tuition is paid. Don't worry, I won't let you down."

A congenital heart condition, yet he made me acquire it.

That scar was carved onto my chest, and I always found ways to hide it.

Alexander was very pleased.

Seraphina had the same scar, and she hid hers too.

I was more like her.

But now, I wore a revealing low-cut blouse, openly displaying that scar.

"Anya, you've changed so much, I didn't recognize you at all."

Alexander's voice had aged considerably too. In my memory, he always spoke with full confidence, often with a hint of menace.

I smiled politely, responding with decorum.

"Mr. Blackwood, you as well."

The door opened, and my mentor walked in, smiling as he looked at me.

"Anya, don't be nervous. Although this is your first official case, you're my most brilliant student. I'm confident you'll win this perfectly."

Alexander stood up, extending his hand politely to my mentor.

"Mr. Harrison, I've heard so much about you. We'll be relying on you for this case."

My mentor took his seat, and Alexander sat down right after.

My thoughts slowly drifted. In my memories, I had never seen Alexander so polite and cautious.

It was as if, when he was around me, he had always been ruthlessly unyielding, never so subservient.

I shook my head, trying to clear those messy thoughts.

Finally, I lowered my gaze and began to read through the documents.

His wretched marriage with Seraphina was now laid out before me.

I couldn't help but recall.

Actually, after I left the country, I had heard some things about him and Seraphina.

Grand declarations of love, a wedding of the century, and him lavishly spending millions at auctions to dote on her.

What surprised me most was two years ago, when he transferred all his shares to Seraphina.

I was graduating with my master's then, thinking I had moved past all the old memories. But seeing that news, I was stunned for a long time.

During my three years by his side, I understood better than anyone how much he cared about his career, about his company's interests.

Once, someone secretly approached me, trying to turn me against him, to provide them with inside information.

When Alexander found out, he first broke the limbs of their people and committed them to a mental institution.

Then he locked me in the basement, strapped me to an electric chair, and warned me again and again:

"If you dare to betray me, I swear I'll make your life a living hell."

Even though I cried and explained that I wouldn't, absolutely wouldn't.

He still showed no mercy.

That time, he tortured me half to death, until blood flowed from beneath me – that's when he stopped his brutality.

That was my first child with him, and my last.

The continuous torment cost me my uterus. But after my surgery, he merely said casually:

"This punishment was a bit heavy, but it's also to make you remember that the company is my bottom line. Don't get any wild ideas."

"As for your uterus... Seraphina is child-free, so you being unable to conceive just makes you more like her."

That company, which he considered his bottom line, his treasure, and for which I lost my uterus without even touching it.

Yet, he so easily bestowed it upon Seraphina.

I didn't know what to think, only that I felt pathetic.

But now, looking at the divorce papers, written in black and white, demanding Seraphina return the shares.

I suddenly couldn't help but laugh out loud.