Chapter 1 The elite kindergarten called, to congratulate me that my son had passed their assessment and asking when I would pay the tuition. My mind went completely blank. Married for three years, I only had a daughter-where on earth did a son come from? I called my diplomat husband, but he just chuckled lightly and said it was probably a scam. After hanging up, I did the unthinkable-I requested emergency leave from my base and called my father, the general. "Dad," I said, my voice tight, "Richard Sullivan is having an affair. Get me the best lawyer. I want him left with nothing." "To the Ambassador's Residence in the Westwood District. Step on it, I'm going to catch him in the act." The driver's eyes lit up at once. He spun the wheel, and the high-performance military SUV shot forward like an arrow from a bow. "Hold on tight!" The trip, usually over an hour long, was cut to a mere twenty minutes. The car came to a smooth stop outside the heavily guarded residence. I strode straight for the sentry post. "Hello, I'm here to see Richard Sullivan." The armed guard sized me up from head to toe, his eyes sharp. "Do you have an appointment? Ambassador's wife is home today and has instructed us not to admit any visitors." Ambassador's wife? I let out a cold laugh and pulled out my ID. "I am his wife. Catherine Hayes." The guard glanced at me, his expression shifting to confusion, even wariness. "Ma'am, that's not a joking matter. Mrs. Sullivan is the renowned pianist, Isabella Monroe, and we see her here every day." Isabella Monroe? At that moment, a woman adorned in glittering jewelry approached, casting me a disdainful glance. Chapter 1 0.85% "Ugh, another social climber trying to cozy up to the powerful. Miss, Mr. Sullivan's wife is Isabella Monroe. I just had afternoon tea with her. What is that, your idea of a nanny's uniform? Too bad, even a nanny dresses better than you." I remembered her-the wife of another diplomat, notorious in the circle for her snobbery. I clenched my fists tightly. Well played, Richard. Well played, Isabella. Isabella was that impoverished student I sponsored out of the slum, supporting her all the way through university. She cried and promised to repay me someday. Turns out this was her idea of "repayment."I had no patience for this foolish woman. I glanced past her to the figure hurrying out from inside. Isabella was dressed in a custom Chanel suit, wearing the Patek Philippe I had gifted Richard on our third wedding anniversary. The moment she saw me, her face drained of color, and she staggered slightly. "C-Catherine...? What are you doing here?" I crossed my arms, my gaze ice-cold. "This is my home. Since when do I need your permission to be here?" Her face went pale, and she nervously glanced at the other diplomat wives who were now peeking, curious. She rushed forward to grab my arm. "Catherine, please, this isn't the place to talk. Let's go to a café, okay? Let me explain-" I yanked my arm away with force, sending her stumbling back several steps. "We'll explain right here. Or is there something you're hiding in the house I designed? Something you're afraid I'll uncover?" My voice was low, but Isabella trembled all over. She leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper, choking with emotion. "Catherine it's not what you think! Richard...he just felt sorry for me. I was struggling alone, getting harassed, so he let me stay temporarily. There's nothing between us! I swear!" Did she think I was three years old? My anger blazed uncontrollably, and I gritted my teeth. "Nothing? Then you won't mind me coming in. Open the door!" Isabella was taken aback by my forcefulness. Tears welled up, but she didn't move. My patience snapped completely. My voice turned icy. "Three. Two. One. Open the door, or I blow it off." Chapter 1 0.85%