[2]

The road stretched ahead, quiet and almost eerily calm. Tara drove at a steady pace, the traffic lights shifting from red to green as cars moved along in an orderly rhythm. The afternoon sky was clear—bright, almost indifferent.

Nothing likes her.

Inside the car, it felt as though a storm had settled deep within her chest. Her hands held the steering wheel, but her mind lagged far behind, trapped somewhere she couldn’t escape.

The voices came back. Relentless.

“Her name was never registered as the wife.”

“The one listed… is mine.”

“I’ll get rid of her.”

Her breath hitched. She tried to focus on the road, on the movement of cars, on the simple act of driving—but everything that had just happened kept crashing into her thoughts, over and over again.

Five years.

Five years of her life… spent living inside something that had never even existed.

Her grip on the wheel tightened. Her chest constricted painfully, something rising inside her—a suffocating mix of anger, devastation, and emptiness.

The traffic light ahead turned yellow. Tara didn’t notice. Her mind drifted back to the paper she had held not long ago—the document that proved everything. The name. The date.

All of it was real.

Not a nightmare.

A sharp honk blared from the side, snapping her back to reality. Her eyes widened just as a car sped in from the right—too close. Far too close. Everything happened in an instant. Her reflexes came too late.

The crash rang out—loud, violently followed by a jolt that threw her body forward. The world spun. Her head slammed against something hard, and for a fleeting moment…

There was silence. Then chaos. Voices overlapped, loud and disordered. People shouting. A car door being forced open. Someone calling out—urgent, panicked.

“Help! She’s still conscious!”

Tara blinked slowly, her vision blurred. Her body felt heavy, distant, as if it no longer belonged to her. Strangely, there was no sharp pain, just a dull, overwhelming weight pressing down on her.

“Miss, can you hear me?”

She wanted to answer, but the words caught in her throat, refusing to come out.

Only one thought surfaced, clear and insistent—I have to get to the airport.

Time seemed to move too fast after that.

Tara couldn’t quite remember how she ended up at the nearest hospital, how the examinations were done, or how she found herself sitting there now—hands still trembling slightly, her world still struggling to piece itself back together.

There was only one sentence she could remember.

“Congratulations. You’re pregnant—about three weeks along. Fortunately, the accident didn’t harm the baby. Please… be more careful when you drive.”

The world seemed to stop all over again.

“I’m… pregnant?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

The doctor nodded, continuing to explain—something about early-stage conditions, the age of the pregnancy, and precautions she needed to take.

“That’s impossible.” Tara laughed, though it was the kind of laugh meant more for something absurd than amusing. “I’m... pregnant?” she repeated, this time resting a hand over her still-flat stomach.

“Why don’t you believe it?” Dr. Evans frowned in confusion. “Then whose test results would these be, if not yours, Miss Tara?”

Tara looked down at the report in her hands once again. She had not forgotten the diagnosis from the Ashbourne family doctor, the physician Adrian trusted to oversee his family’s health, including hers. He had told her that having children would be difficult for her.

There had been so many explanations, so many instructions, so many medications Tara had been told to take. Adrian had often comforted her, saying it didn’t matter if they couldn’t have children. They could always adopt. And because of Adrian’s support, Tara had agreed to the adoption process.

But now she was holding a different report entirely.

Three weeks pregnant.

Her mind searched through her memories. Then one night surfaced with painful clarity. The night Adrian had come home drunk. For the first time in so long, he had touched her again. It had been cold, detached, almost emotionless, yet to Tara, that night had remained unforgettable.

At the time, she had even allowed herself to hope that maybe things would finally get better. Intimacy often lifted a couple’s mood, brought them closer, or so she had believed.

“So I...” Tears slipped down her cheeks one after another before she could stop them. “I’m really pregnant?”

“Of course.” Dr. Evans looked increasingly puzzled by the woman sitting before him. “You’re healthy, and there are no issues with the pregnancy. So... why are you doubting that you’re pregnant?”

Once again, Tara laughed, but this time the sound was laced with bitterness. “Then all this time... could it be that doctor was lying?”

“Yes?”

“Ah, no.” Tara quickly tried to compose herself. What was she supposed to feel right now? Happiness? Sadness? Or complete devastation?

This child…

The child of a man she had just heard—so clearly—say he intended to get rid of her. A soft, hollow laugh escaped her lips, surprising even herself. “How ironic…” she murmured under her breath.

At the exact moment her life was falling apart…

something was beginning to grow inside her. Her phone vibrated again. Victor’s name lit up the screen.

Victor.

Tara stared at it for a few seconds before finally answering.

“Tara, where are you now?” His voice was calm as ever. Not demanding, not urgent—but steady enough to pull her back to reality.

She closed her eyes briefly, taking a slow breath. She couldn’t let him hear the chaos inside her.

“I’m on my way, Daddy,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“All right. I’ll be landing in an hour.”

The call ended.

Tara looked at her reflection in the mirror inside the examination room. For a moment, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her.

“Thank you for the explanation, Doctor,” she said quietly, pushing herself to stand.

“You should be careful and avoid any strenuous activity,” the doctor reminded her gently.

Tara simply gave a small nod. Then she left the hospital, her emotions tangled into something she couldn’t quite untangle. There was no time to think about what came next.

Not yet.

She couldn’t afford to fall apart before the right moment.

She just… couldn’t.

***

The airport was crowded with people arriving, people leaving, voices blending into a constant hum of movement and life. It felt so alive, so full of motion… a sharp contrast to the heaviness sitting inside Tara.

She stood not far from the arrival gate, doing her best to appear normal despite the dull ache still lingering in her body. The injuries on her hand and temple were subtle—but not invisible.

And she knew Victor would notice. Of course he would. Then she saw him.

Victor Alistair Ashbourne.

He walked with steady, unhurried steps, his presence commanding without effort. There was a quiet authority about him, something that made people instinctively take notice. His gaze found Tara almost immediately, and for the first time, something in his expression shifted.

A slight frown formed, his eyes drawn straight to the bandage on her temple. “Tara, what happened to you?”

Tara offered a faint smile. “It’s nothing, Daddy. Just… a minor injury.”

Victor’s brows furrowed deeper. “That doesn’t look minor.”

“I’m fine. Really,” Tara insisted, keeping her tone light. “I just had a small fall yesterday. It’s nothing—you don’t need to worry.”

Victor didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, as if weighing whether to believe her. But in the end, he gave a small nod. “If you say so.”

They walked side by side toward the car.

“Why don’t you want Adrian to know you’re here?” Tara asked softly once they were seated inside.

Victor kept his eyes forward. “I want to surprise him,” he replied calmly. “And I’d like to see the progress of the Neo Group project for myself.”

He glanced at her briefly. “And the person best suited to explain it… is you. Your reports are far more precise—and far more satisfying.”

Tara Stilled. She hadn’t expected that. At a time when everyone seemed to be using her, there was still someone who acknowledged her worth. She nodded quietly. “I’ll prepare a complete report.”

“I’ll need the financial reports for the project Adrian is handling as well. I can get them from you, can’t I?”

Tara turned to him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to request them directly from Mr. Hans?”

Hans was the finance manager under Adrian’s supervision. Anything Adrian needed to keep his projects running smoothly always came through Hans’s approval.

“You’re right,” Victor replied with a faint smile. “But like I said, I don’t want Adrian to know I’m back.”

It was odd—no matter how she looked at it—but Tara chose not to question him further. She simply nodded.

Out in the airport lobby, a luxury car was already waiting to take Victor wherever he wished to go. The driver stepped forward, opening the door with quiet efficiency, and soon the car pulled away from the terminal.

For a while, silence settled between them, stretching just long enough to feel deliberate rather than uncomfortable. Tara kept her gaze forward, her thoughts quietly turning, while Victor seemed entirely at ease, as if he had already anticipated every question she chose not to ask.

Then Victor broke the silence, his tone noticeably lighter.

“By the way,” he said, “I hear your wedding anniversary celebration is coming up soon.”

Tara’s heartbeat slowly, heavily. How ironic that a part of her still expected that celebration to be the same as in previous years.

“Yes,” she answered briefly.

“What would you like as a gift?” Victor asked. “As your father-in-law, I don’t think I’ve ever truly asked you that.”

Tara turned, studying for a moment before her gaze drifted back to the road ahead.

“Just say it,” Victor continued calmly. “As part of the Ashbourne family, I believe you deserve something from me.”

“Anything?” Tara asked, as if testing the weight of his words.

“Yes.” Victor’s tone was firm. “Anything.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes remained fixed ahead, but her mind began to unravel everything—every moment, every truth that had surfaced. All this time, she had stood outside. Carrying out what was asked of her. Becoming the face people trusted. The hands that fixed everything.

But never—not once—the one in control. And what had it brought her?

Nothing.

She had lost everything before she even realized it. A marriage that was never hers. A life built on carefully constructed lies. If she stayed where she was, then no matter what she did… it would all amount to nothing.

It would never matter.

Tara drew in a slow breath. Her fingers tightened against each other—not out of fragility, but because something inside her was beginning to take shape.

Clarity.

Understanding—not just of what had been done to her, but of what she needed to do next.

She didn’t need recognition. She didn’t need sympathy. She needed power. Something absolute. Something no one could take from her.

Something that would make it impossible for anyone to ever cast her aside again.

Slowly, Tara turned to him. There was no hesitation in her eyes now—no emptiness, no doubt. Only a quiet, steady resolve.

“Make me the CEO of Ashbourne,” she said at last, her voice low but unwavering. Then, after a brief pause—“Can you give me that… as my gift?”