A Second Chance at Happiness

The night was as deep as a swath of velvet soaked in ink, enfolding the faintest trace of wine lingering within the villa. Arthur Silva reeked of sharp alcohol when his assistant returned him. I supported him toward the bedroom, my fingertips brushing against his shirt—cool and crumpled. He had always been temperate, seldom drinking to such a drunken excess. As I settled him against the headboard, he suddenly seized my wrist. I thought he wanted water and was about to rise when I heard him murmur indistinctly. "Maria..." My movement came to an abrupt halt, as if my blood had instantly congealed for a moment. Maria Miller—the false heiress who had occupied more than twenty years of my life and whom my parents had mistakenly raised as their own daughter. I was brought back to the Miller family three years ago; by then, Maria Miller had long since won my parents' favor and had become the beloved, poised heiress in everyone's eyes. Yet I felt more like an unwelcome stranger who had intruded abruptly. Arthur Silva proposed to me shortly after my return to the Miller family. At that time, I believed it was fate—that he perceived my predicament within the Miller family and wished to grant me a secure refuge. But now, the name he spoke was like a fine needle, piercing through the bubble of self-deception I had harbored. He continued to murmur softly, his tone tinged with a hint of indulgent mockery. "Marrying Greta... is merely because I fear she might steal what belongs to you." "I must keep her firmly in check to prevent her from causing trouble that might hinder you." "Once you take over the Miller Group, if she behaves, keep her as a little pet... if not, discard her." Each word pierced my heart like an ice pick, mercilessly stabbing my chest. So all that tenderness and care were false; all those oaths were merely schemes. He never loved me; marrying me was solely for Maria Miller, to secure my place as the "true heiress", so that Maria could rightfully seize everything that belonged to me. I slowly withdrew my wrist, my fingertips growing icy cold. Arthur Silva slept soundly, a satisfied smile lingering at the corner of his lips, likely dreaming of a future with Maria Miller. I did not glance at him again and turned to leave the bedroom. The crystal chandelier in the living room shone so brightly it pained my eyes. I sat on the sofa, sleepless throughout the entire night. At dawn, as the sky faded to a pale gray, I slowly rose and walked toward the study. I want a divorce. The Miller Group is my family's enterprise; Arthur Silva seeks to assist Maria Miller in seizing it, but I will not allow it. I opened my computer and began drafting the divorce agreement. Regarding the division of assets, I was resolute; what belongs to me, I will not give up a single fraction. More importantly, I must reclaim the Miller Group and compel Arthur Silva and Maria Miller to pay dearly for their schemes. Having drafted the agreement, I printed it and placed it upon the coffee table in the living room. Thereafter, I drove to the company, preparing to organize my work in readiness for the battle over the inheritance.