The moment she signs, everything we’ve worked for will be ours. No more hiding. No more pretending. Just you, me, and the company. I know it was your idea to make her sign that paper before the business really took off. Genius. She’ll walk away with nothing. You’ll walk away with me. Lisa couldn’t breathe for a second.

She had opened Mark’s email by accident, or maybe fate. He left his work laptop at home and a client alert popped up. Lisa clicked it, curious. But what she found was more than a message. It was betrayal. Brutal, cold, calculated betrayal. 12 years of love, of building from the ground up, of sleepless nights and shared struggle.

All traded for a younger woman with a sharp dress, fake smile, and eyes only for the throne Lisa helped build. Back in the present, Mark was still in shock from the judge’s announcement. His lawyer fumbled through papers, stuttering something about reconsideration and procedural errors. Judge Daniels shut that down quick. This case will proceed under marital property laws, she repeated firmly. Mark turned to Lisa, his voice low and frantic.

You knew about the prenup being invalid, didn’t you? Lisa looked him dead in the eyes. I didn’t, but I suspected, and I made sure. back to the night she found the email. Lisa didn’t confront him. No screaming, no throwing clothes out the window, no drama.

That’s what Mark expected, and she wasn’t going to give it to him. Instead, she opened a private folder on her laptop labeled Sunrise. It held every receipt, every early draft of the company logo, photos of their garage setup when they couldn’t afford an office. A voice memo from Mark back in 2014 saying, “We don’t need lawyers between us. We built this. You trust me, right? Lisa saved everything.

She even had screen recordings of the first time they transferred ownership shares. When Mark insisted on putting 60% in his name for investor confidence, everything was backed up. Everything had a time stamp. Back in court, Lisa’s voice was calm.

I have full documentation of our financial history from the first check we ever deposited to the latest product launch. I’ve sent copies to the court. Mark’s face went pale. You planned this? No, Lisa said. I prepared. There’s a difference. Two nights before the court date, Lisa met privately with a new lawyer. A woman named Carmen Blake. Sharp, quiet, deadly. Lisa told her everything.

Carmen listened, then smiled and said, “You’ve already done most of my work. Now, let’s finish this.” Mark looked around the courtroom like he was drowning. Angela wasn’t here. Of course not. She wanted the crown, not the war. and Lisa. Lisa was no longer the woman who cried in silence when he came home late.

She was still the judge called a short recess. Mark rushed to the hallway, Lisa walking behind him slowly, heels clicking against the polished floor. He turned on her. You could have just walked away and let you keep everything we built. Give you the company while you parade around with her like I never mattered. She shook her head. I’m not your footnote.

You’re bitter. No, she said. I’m awake. Lisa sat on a bench outside the courtroom. Her phone buzzed. A message from Carmen. We’ve got more. Call me. You’ll want to see this before the next hearing. Lisa called. Carmen’s voice was steady. Angela’s been leaking proprietary info to your biggest competitor. There’s proof. We’re building a case.

And if it connects back to Mark, he’s not just walking away broke. He could face corporate fraud charges. Lisa closed her eyes and breathed in. For once, she didn’t feel small. She didn’t feel broken. She felt power returning to her bones. She had waited in silence long enough. Now it was her turn to speak, not with words, but with proof. Angela’s game, where Angela thinks she’s in the clear until the real storm hits.

Angela sat in the corner booth of a high-end rooftop lounge in Midtown, sipping on a $25 cocktail like she owned the sky. She wore a tight red dress, lips to match, and heels sharp enough to slice through glass. to the world. She was Angela Moore, the woman behind the stunning growth of Glowrise Company s marketing.

But behind closed doors, she was more than that. She was the reason Mark came home late. The whisper behind every decision. The other woman who was ready to be the woman. And tonight, she was celebrating. To her, Lisa was already gone. Out of the picture, out of the company, out of Mark’s life. Angela thought she had played her game like a queen. She didn’t know the chessboard was burning beneath her.

2 hours earlier, Carmen sent Lisa a secure email containing a PDF with a subject line that read, “Confidential data leak evidence from Angela Moore’s account.” Lisa clicked the file, her jaw clenched. Emails, bank records, encrypted messages between Angela and one of their biggest skincare competitors, True Glow Incorporated. Every single piece pointed to something ugly.