Chapter 3The Thirty-Dollar Inheritance

The first major incident

happened on our third anniversary.

That day, I was waiting at home for him to come back for dinner.

Suddenly, a massive thunderstorm hit,

and the power in the entire estate went out.

I grabbed the wall, trying to stand up, but I missed a step and fell hard onto the floor.

A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through my stomach.

Lying on the freezing hardwood, I managed to grab my phone and dial his number.

It rang for a very long time before he finally answered.

"Richard, I fell."

His voice was hushed, laced with heavy irritation.

"Clara, stop being dramatic. I'm dealing with a real crisis right now. Tell the butler to take you to the hospital."

"It hurts so much."

"Could you please just not cause problems at a time like this?"

With that, he hung up.

It was the butler who eventually found me and rushed me to the ER in the middle of the night.

When I woke up, the smell of antiseptic stung my nose.

The doctor stood by my bed, his tone clinical.

"Don't worry, we managed to save the baby."

"But you must remain on strict bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. Any further physical or emotional shock could be fatal to the fetus."

It wasn't until noon the next day

that Richard finally showed up.

He held my hand, his voice raspy, whispering apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Clara."

"I was so buried in work, I neglected you."

My mother-in-law came too.

She stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me, muttering just loud enough for me to hear:

"Always looks like she's at death's door."

"Who knows if the kid she pops out will even be healthy."

I ignored her.

I simply pulled my hand out of Richard's grip and rested it gently on my stomach.

Since my parents passed away,

this was the only family I had left in the world that shared my blood.

A few days later, my private investigator sent me an update.

Evelyn was also pregnant.

Richard had specially flown her out of state for an advanced ultrasound to confirm it was a boy.

My mother-in-law packed her bags

and immediately moved into Evelyn's apartment, claiming she needed to personally care for her.

My sister-in-law posted a photo of baby boy clothes on Facebook with the caption: [Finally getting the grandson our Sterling family has been waiting for!]

I lay in my hospital bed,

took a screenshot of that post, and saved it into the "Evidence" folder.

When Evelyn started showing, Richard bought a massive luxury penthouse downtown and moved her in so he could personally take care of her.

After I was discharged,

I moved back to the Vance family's original estate alone.

During that time, Richard came home less and less.

For my first prenatal appointment, he said he had a board meeting.

The first time the baby kicked, he said he was working overtime.

Every single time I needed him, he was never there.

Until the day I went into labor. My water broke suddenly in the middle of the night.

The butler panicked and went to call Richard, but I stopped him.

"Don't bother."

I lay in the hospital bed and signed all my own surgical consent forms.

The nurse looked at me, hesitating, but ultimately said nothing.

Thankfully, there were no complications.

When I woke up, there was a tiny, wrinkled little life resting in my arms.

The nurse told me it was a girl.

I looked at her, my eyes welling with tears.

Three years after my father's death, I finally had family again.

I named her Victoria Vance.

Taking my last name.

On that exact same day, Evelyn went into premature labor and delivered a baby boy.

Richard paced outside her delivery room for the entire night.

My mother-in-law held her new grandson, beaming from ear to ear, and named him Alexander Sterling on the spot.

Richard's Facebook feed was flooded with photos of their happy family of three.

No one remembered

that I was also giving birth that day.

From then on, Evelyn made it her mission to compete with me in every aspect of life.

If I booked a high-end postpartum recovery center, she booked the exact same suite the very next day, posting on social media: [Thank you to my amazing hubby for giving me the absolute best.]

Alexander attended elite private schools from pre-K through middle school, with tuition costing tens of thousands of dollars a year.

Victoria attended public school. I had the chauffeur drive her and pick her up every single day, rain or shine.

When Alexander graduated high school, he went to an Ivy League university in the US. Richard personally flew out to drop him off, taking a family photo of the three of them at the campus gates.

When Victoria was accepted into the top university in the country, I was the only one who accompanied her on move-in day.

She rolled her suitcase toward the dorms, turning back to smile at me.

"Mom, I can handle it from here."

I nodded,

refusing to let the tears fall.

Year after year.

The money Richard spent on Evelyn and her son... I kept track of every single penny.

Alexander's elite prep school: $200,000 a year.

Alexander's university escrow account: $500,000.

The luxury penthouse for Evelyn: $2.5 million, paid in full, under Richard's name.

I had people track every transaction,

and I logged every single one.

My best friend flipped through the ledger, her hands shaking with rage.

"Clara, your husband is using your family's money to fund his mistress and his bastard son, and you're just going to sit back and watch?!"

I picked up my teacup and took a slow sip.

"Why the rush?"

"When he climbs to the very top, the fall is going to hurt a lot more."