The sainted ghost. The untouchable first love, consumed by flames.
She and Antonia had orchestrated the perfect con, a masterwork of fake tragedy.
All for Maxwell's fortune. And they'd wanted my life thrown in as a bonus.
"Isabel, you've been having the time of your life overseas, haven't you."
"Since you're not dead after all, let me put together a proper welcome-home gift."
The next morning, I finished washing up and applied a full face of flawless makeup.
The moment I came downstairs, I saw Maxwell sitting at the table, spooning bird's nest soup toward Antonia's lips, coaxing her to drink.
When he noticed me, his gaze cooled several degrees.
"Have you come to your senses? If so, go to the hospital and get the pre-op screening done."
I walked to the dining table and poured myself a cup of black coffee. Every movement was unhurried, composed.
"Maxwell, I want a divorce."
The spoon in his hand stilled for a fraction of a second. Then he let out a derisive scoff.
"What game are you playing now, Amy?"
"Every time we fight, you throw around the word 'divorce' like it's supposed to scare me. You really think that still works?"
I took a slow sip of the coffee. The bitterness spread across my tongue.
"This isn't a threat. The attorney's letter will be delivered to your office this afternoon."
"Every asset under my name stays with me. You won't see a single cent."
"And I'm taking full custody of Lily."
Maxwell slammed the bowl onto the table. Bird's nest soup splattered everywhere.
"In your dreams."
"If you dare bring up divorce right now, I will destroy your reputation."
"Antonia's bone marrow donation? You're doing it whether you want to or not."
Antonia sat off to the side, dabbing at crocodile tears.
"It's all my fault, Amy. I'll just go. Please don't fight because of me."
She spoke while making a show of pushing herself up from the wheelchair. Her legs buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.
Maxwell scooped her up, cradling her against his chest, and turned a furious glare on me.
"Are you satisfied now?"
"If anything happens to Antonia, I swear you'll pay with your life."
I looked at the two of them—this disgusting pair—and felt nothing but nausea rising in my throat.
"Do whatever you want, Maxwell. You'd better pray your precious little sister-in-law lives long enough to make it to the gala."
I turned on my heel, walked out of the villa, and drove my Porsche straight to the office.