My husband sta//bbed me twice just to defend his mistress over a tiny scratch. I woke up three days later in the ICU, but he had no idea that as I lay ble//eding out on our rug, I had secretly tapped ‘Record’ on my smartwatch...

While I was recovering in the secure wing of the hospital under Dr. Reed's strict protection, the outside world was beginning to crumble around Julian Vance.

David had already set the first phase of our legal blitzkrieg into motion. Without filing for divorce just yet, he initiated a freezing injunction on all joint marital assets, corporate share transfers, and personal bank accounts tied to Julian.

Julian thought he could simply buy his way out of the disaster. He hired Marcus Sterling, the most expensive and ruthless criminal defense attorney in the country, known for getting corrupt politicians and billionaires acquitted of federal crimes.

On the fourth morning after waking up, the television in my VIP hospital room was tuned to a financial news channel.

“...breaking news this morning regarding Vance Global,” the anchor announced, her voice clipped and professional. “Shares of the tech conglomerate plummeted by 14% following unconfirmed reports of federal investigations into corporate asset restructuring, alongside unverified rumors regarding CEO Julian Vance's personal life...”

The screen flashed a photograph of Julian stepping out of his downtown headquarters, flanked by angry reporters shouting questions about his wife's sudden, mysterious hospitalization and police presence at his private residence.

Julian looked exhausted. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow. The golden cage he had built to trap me was rapidly turning into his own prison.

Suddenly, the door to my room unlocked.

I expected David or Dr. Reed. Instead, the door crept open, and a figure slipped inside, closing it softly behind them.

It was Selina Cole.

Gone was the weeping, fragile victim who had burst into our home three days ago with a superficial scratch on her arm. Today, Selina wore a designer cashmere trench coat, her long blonde hair styled to perfection, and an expression of cold, venomous desperation on her face.

She walked toward my bed, stopping a few feet away, her eyes darting nervously toward the door before locking onto mine.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you, Nora?" Selina hissed, her voice dropping all pretense of sweetness. "Playing the poor, helpless victim in the hospital while your lawyers try to rip everything away from Julian."

I didn't flinch. I leaned back against the hospital pillows, crossing my arms over my bandaged abdomen, looking at her as if she were a pathetic insect crawling across my pristine white sheets.

"Selina," I murmured, my voice dripping with calm amusement. "You really should have worn better shoes. Running away from a sinking ship in stilettos is going to hurt much worse than a little scratch."

Selina’s face twisted in rage. She took a sharp step closer to the bed, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper. "Listen to me, you stupid bitch. Julian loves me. He never loved you. You were just a placeholder while he climbed to the top. If you think you can take his company, his money, or him away from me, you're out of your mind. Drop the charges, sign the quiet divorce papers, and take a multi-million-dollar settlement and disappear. Because if you don't..."

"If I don't what?" I challenged, tilting my head, maintaining absolute eye contact. "Are you going to bring another knife? Or are you going to ask Julian to finish the job?"

Before Selina could snap back, the door clicked open wide.

Dr. Caleb Reed walked in, holding a clipboard, followed immediately by two uniform security guards and a police detective badge flashing in the dim hallway light.