I caught my husband whispering "it's our baby" to his mistress on Christmas Eve—then her husband handed me $200,000 to stay married.

Jessica Vance followed me into the ladies' lounge five minutes later.

The room was opulent, lined with gilded mirrors, plush velvet seating, and marble vanities. When the door swung shut, locking out the noise of the party, Jessica dropped her mask.

She stood behind me as I touched up my lipstick in the mirror. She folded her arms, leaning her hip against the sink counter.

"You really don't have any idea what’s going on around you, do you, Anna?" she said, her voice dropping the sugary socialite tone. It was sharp, cruel, and dripping with condescension.

I didn't turn around. I carefully blotted my lips with a tissue. "I know Mark is very excited about working with your husband's firm."

Jessica let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Mark isn't interested in Julian's firm, sweetie. Mark is interested in freedom. In a real life. Not this... provincial little routine you have him trapped in."

I met her eyes in the mirror. She wanted me to cry. She wanted me to scream, to make a scene in the country club bathroom so she could run to Julian and claim I was unstable.

"Is that what he told you, Jessica?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm.

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "What?"

"Mark," I said, turning slowly to face her. "He tells women what they want to hear. When we met, he told me I was his muse. When he wanted my grandmother's inheritance to fund his first venture, he told me we were building an empire. Now he tells you whatever bedtime story you need to hear to feel less like a bored trophy wife."

Jessica’s eyes flared with anger. She took a step toward me, her hand unconsciously drifting toward her stomach. "You pathetic little woman. You think you know him? He’s suffocating with you. And very soon, he’s going to walk out your front door and never look back. He's giving me something you never could."

She was baiting me. She wanted me to ask what that was. She wanted to drop the bomb about the pregnancy right here, right now, to watch me break.

Instead, I tilted my head and smiled with pure, unadulterated pity.

"Be careful what you wish for, Jessica," I whispered, stepping close enough that our shoulders almost touched. "Julian told everyone at the bar ten minutes ago that he’s restructuring the family foundation. Any child born under the Vance name in the next five years is required to undergo full genetic verification in Zurich before a single dollar of trust principal is dispersed. Family policy, apparently."

Jessica went pale. The color drained from her cheeks so fast it looked like she had seen a ghost. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.