Tiffany Evans let out a blood-curdling scream the moment she saw the results, then collapsed in a dead faint from the sheer emotional shock.
A guilty conscience always jumps to the worst conclusion. Her judgment was completely shot.
After thinking it over, I decided to call Tiffany's husband myself. I had to try and salvage what was left of her reputation.
I spun a story about how she'd been coerced—had too much to drink, was taken advantage of, and was too scared to tell him. That's why she was drunk outside, hiding from him, begging me to cover for her.
I threw all the blame on Ryan Lowell. Hearing the child might be his, Tiffany's husband was already reeling. When he thought she'd been forced… his anger softened. He admitted he still loved her and would tear up the divorce papers.
I told him Ryan had already been cut off and left with nothing—no need to go further. The tycoon didn't say a word. Just hung up.
I swallowed hard, praying he'd let it go. If Ryan realized he'd been framed, he'd come for both of us.
And sure enough, trouble came for Ryan.
A lifelong freeloader, he'd already hit rock bottom thanks to Tiffany. Cut off from his family's money, he couldn't find work anywhere—Tiffany's husband had made sure of it. Blacklisted him from every decent job in the city.
Panic shot through me. Ryan wouldn't take this lying down.
He didn't. Blinded by rage, he threatened to leak a secretly recorded video from their drunken night at the club.
He even barged into the tycoon's corporate office and forced him to watch "proof" that Tiffany had been a willing participant.
The tycoon had been seconds from calling his lawyers to stop the divorce. Then he saw the footage. His face went dark. In a cold fury, he had security drag Ryan out, then strong-armed him into deleting the video—permanently.
Even a parasite like Ryan knew better than to mess with real power. Under threats and a payoff, he handed over the footage, took the money, and disappeared.
When Tiffany found out, she broke down completely. She's been bedridden, crying nonstop ever since. I didn't know what to do.
Her reckless behavior—ignoring doctor's orders while emotionally wrecked—triggered stress cardiomyopathy. Now she's in the hospital under observation.
I thought it was finally over.
Then, less than a week later, my husband came back from overseas. His first words? "We need a divorce."
"Why?"
I'd felt it coming but stayed in denial—until he threw explicit photos in my face. "How can you even ask? Look what you've done!"
They were from that night.
"Enough. It's over."