My husband offered me $50 million to disappear from his life so he could marry the woman carrying his twins.

The punch came without warning.

Charles lunged across the mahogany table, knocking crystal goblets and silver platters to the floor with an ear-splitting crash. His fist struck Richard square in the jaw, sending his cousin crashing backward over his chair.

"You bastard!" Charles screamed, his voice cracking into a primal, animalistic roar. "You slept with my wife in my own house?!"

"She wasn't your wife!" Richard spat back from the floor, wiping blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. He laughed, a bitter, derisive bark. "And she was never going to be! We were going to wait until the wedding was finalized, let you put the Stanhope trust in the twins' names, and then initiate an emergency board coup to replace you. You were just the useful idiot, Charles! You’ve been an idiot your whole life!"

Phoebe was curled into a ball on the floor, weeping hysterically, clutching her stomach. "Charles, please! He threatened me! He said he would ruin you if I didn't—"

"Get out," Charles whispered.

He stood above her, his expensive Italian suit disheveled, his chest heaving, his face drained of every drop of blood. He looked down at the woman he had abandoned his twelve-year marriage for, the woman he had given his former wife’s anniversary pin to.

"Charles, my babies—"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Charles screamed, a sound so raw and broken that even Cordelia looked away.

Within two hours, the Boston police had escorted Richard from the premises under threat of corporate embezzlement charges, while Phoebe was bundled into an unmarked taxi with two suitcases, her access to all Stanhope credit cards instantly revoked.

The house fell completely silent.

Charles sat on the floor of the ruined dining room amid broken crystal and spilled wine, his head buried in his hands. He was crying like a lost child.

Cordelia walked up behind him, looking down at her son with a mixture of pity and utter disgust.

"You threw away an empire for a mirage," she said softly.

"Hannah knew," Charles choked out, tears soaking through his fingers. "Hannah knew the whole time. That’s why she signed the papers without fighting. She knew I was shooting blanks. She knew Phoebe was lying. She let me walk straight into the slaughterhouse."

"Hannah didn't push you into the slaughterhouse, Charles," Cordelia replied coldly. "You built it, you decorated it, and you walked in willingly. You traded gold for poisoned dust."

Charles looked up, his eyes wild and desperate. "I have to fix this. I have to call her. She loved me for twelve years! She protected me! She took the blame from you, from the board, from everyone! She’ll understand. She has to understand!"

"Hannah is not a fool, Charles," Cordelia warned. "And she is no longer your wife."