Betrayed by the CEO: I Faked My Death and Married Another

My husband's secretary deliberately ruined a painting I'd spent two years creating.

I was furious. As punishment, I made her work as a maid for three days—cleaning my exhibition.

Austin didn't say a word at first. He acted like nothing had happened.

But three months later, his company declared bankruptcy. He was thrown in prison.

To pay off millions in debt, I worked three jobs a day, running myself ragged.

For three years, I was cornered in alleyways by debt collectors who hurled insults at me. For a hundred dollars, I took a job as a "test sleeper" in haunted houses.

Then one night, while I was serving tables, I heard him—Austin Vance, the man who was supposed to be rotting in a cell—throwing a lavish birthday party for his precious secretary.

A friend asked, "Austin, you gave Kathy Barnes a million-dollar necklace, meanwhile your dear wife is sleeping in haunted houses for a hundred bucks. How do you live with yourself?"

Austin exhaled a plume of smoke, his laugh cold as ice.

"Pearl forced Kathy to be a maid. These three years? They're her punishment."

"Once it's over, I'll pretend I made a comeback."

"She'll still be Mrs. Vance."

My body swayed in the cold wind. I stood there like a broken puppet.

So this was it. Three years of living hell—all orchestrated by you.

Fine then. I'll pay you back double.

——

I felt like I'd plunged into a frozen abyss. And still, voices drifted out from inside—Bertram Walker was speaking.

"Austin, she's still your wife. Before you married her, she was a pampered heiress. Don't you think this is a bit... cruel?"

"Last time I saw Pearl, she looked awful. Gaunt. Hollow. She's probably at her breaking point."

Austin's voice was flat, indifferent.

"We agreed on three full years. Not a day less."

"Besides, there's only one month left. She's made it this far—what's a few more days?"

Bertram hesitated, then spoke again.

"She came to me a while back. Begging. She only wanted to borrow a few hundred dollars."

"The Pearl Sanchez I used to know—the golden girl, born with a silver spoon—I've never seen her that desperate."

Austin let out a cold snort. "You didn't lend it to her, did you?"

"Of course not. You made it clear—anyone who helps her is dead to you. I wouldn't dare."

Through the haze of smoke, Austin's lips curled into a frigid smile.

"Smart man."

"Pearl Sanchez is spoiled. Arrogant. Insufferable. Kathy accidentally damaged one painting, and Pearl made her grovel as a maid for three days."

"Someone that entitled needed to be taught a lesson. And look—three years of punishment, and it worked, didn't it?"

His voice dripped with pride. Satisfaction.

As if his little experiment had reformed me. Made me a better person.

Bertram sighed and swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.

There were things he hadn't told Austin.

That day, I had knelt.

I had unbuttoned my own blouse.

"Just five hundred dollars. Please. I'm begging you."

"Austin is sick in prison. He needs medical care. I'm five hundred short."

They had exchanged glances—then burst out laughing.

"Is this really the Pearl Sanchez we used to know?"

"You were so proud back then. Wouldn't wear shoes that cost less than a thousand. Now you're selling yourself for five hundred?"

I could only kneel there and take it. My face betrayed nothing.

What expression was I supposed to wear?

Every shred of pride, every ounce of dignity—ground into dust by reality.

"If you're willing to pay more..."

My voice broke.

"I'll pose however you want."