Chapter 2

Eva's POV

Julian Sterling framed me for stealing corporate secrets in front of every major media outlet in the city.

Nobody in the crowd knew that the woman on stage, dressed in a faded gray janitor uniform and labeled a thief, was actually his legal wife of three years.

I was Evangeline Vance. And after the Vance family went bankrupt, I became the scapegoat carrying the debt of my family's blood. Julian hated me to my very core.

Meanwhile, Melanie Crawford, the thief and the girl Julian actually loved, sat in the VIP section below the stage. She watched my humiliation with a smug, victorious smile.

"Mr. Sterling, is she really just a janitor at Sterling Enterprises?"

"I heard she used to be the heiress of the Vance family. Why did she resort to theft?"

The reporters pushed forward like a pack of hungry wolves, their microphones raised, camera flashes blinding my eyes.

Julian stood at the podium in his custom-tailored suit, looking down at me.

His eyes were as cold as ice, staring at me as if I were a piece of trash.

"She used to have ties to the Sterling family," Julian's voice echoed through the microphone, completely ruthless. "But Sterling Enterprises will never harbor a thief. Evangeline Vance is suspected of stealing core data. I will personally file police charges and see this through to the end."

A simple "ties to the family." With those words, he erased our three years of marriage and my years of devotion, turning me into nothing but a background nuisance.

I bit my pale lip so hard it bled, my hand tightly clutching my lower abdomen. The stitches from my surgery had only been taken out last night, and the rough fabric of the janitor uniform was rubbing against the wound, making it bleed again.

Melanie sat in the front row, her manicured fingers gently resting on her expensive white designer handbag. She threw a mocking glance my way.

My throat felt tight.

Just last night, Melanie had shoved the stolen files into my locker and whispered in my ear, "Take the fall for me, Eva. Julian will only give you the money for your surgery if you cooperate. Aren't you desperate for cash? Aren't you dying?"

Yes. I was desperate.

I was so broke that the hospital receptionist had thrown the unpaid bills in my face three times in public. I was so broke that I almost pawned the last photo of my late father.

So here I was, stomping on my own dignity to take the fall for his mistress, all for the "experimental drug trial" money Julian had promised me.

I needed that blood money to buy myself a few more days of life.

Under the cynical stares of the crowd, I pushed past the security guards and stepped onto the stage.

Each step tore at my surgical wound, and cold sweat poured down my back. I didn't look at Melanie. My lifeless eyes were locked entirely on Julian.

"Mr. Sterling."

I picked up the microphone from the table. My voice was dry and raspy, like I had swallowed sand.

Julian's brows furrowed in pure anger. "The evidence is clear. What else do you have to say for yourself?"

"My payout," I croaked. "The money for participating in the clinical drug trial. When will I get it?"

The room went dead silent for a second, then erupted into whispers.

"Clinical trial? Did she just say payout?"

Melanie's expression instantly shattered, her fingers digging hard into her bag.

Julian stared at me, his disgust turning into raw, unshielded fury.

"You stole from us, and now you have the nerve to blackmail me on live television?"

"I only want the money you promised," I said, looking him dead in the eyes. "The trial observation period is over. Pay me what's in the contract, Julian. I earned this."

Julian's face turned pale with rage.

Dozens of cameras pointed straight at me. I could see myself on the massive screens behind the stage.

Standing next to Julian in his expensive, glowing aura, I looked like dirt.

I used to be Mrs. Sterling. I used to wear designer gowns, holding his arm at high-end charity galas.

Once, he had taken a glass of champagne from my hand and whispered softly, "She's not feeling well. I'll drink for her."

But now, those memories were dead.

Now, he looked at me like I was a disease.

Julian let out a cold laugh. He snatched his checkbook from his assistant and quickly scribbled a figure.

His pen pressed so hard it almost tore the paper.

He ripped the check out, but he didn't hand it to me. Instead, like tossing scraps to a stray dog, he threw it right at my feet.

The thin piece of paper drifted through the air, landing right in front of my dirty sneakers.

"Is that enough?"

Julian lowered his voice, but the microphone was still on. His cold, mocking words echoed through the hall. "Take the money and get lost, Eva. Don't ever use these cheap tricks to dirty my company again."

The camera shutters sounded like rapid gunfire.

I stared at the check on the floor and slowly bent down.

The sudden movement squeezed my wound, and my vision went black for a second. I didn't kneel. I just trembled, pressing my hands against the cold floor, and slowly pinched the paper into my palm.

Melanie let out a long sigh of relief in the front row, her eyes filled with victory.

Julian, watching me bend over for money like a beggar, looked even more disgusted. "You really have no dignity left when it comes to cash, do you?"

I folded the check and slipped it into my pocket, right against my bleeding wound.

The paper pressed against my warm blood, crushing the very last urge I had to explain myself.

I forced myself to stand straight and looked at the husband I had loved for three years.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling."

Julian's throat bobbed, his brow knitting tightly.

Maybe he expected me to cry. Maybe he thought I would scream and beg him to believe me, just like I used to.

But I did nothing. I was just an empty shell.

All my cries for help had died last night.

Last night, when I was curled up on a freezing bench in the hospital corridor, I had called Julian ten times. He didn't pick up once.

On the eleventh try, Melanie answered the phone. Her voice was sweet and dripping with venom. "Julian is busy with me, Eva. Grow up."

Right. I had to grow up.

So I came to the press conference.

I took the fall for his mistress.

I let my husband publicly ruin my life.

I turned around, dragging my bleeding body off the stage.

Security cleared a narrow path through the reporters. I walked steadily, though my fingers were shaking uncontrollably at my sides.

Just as I reached the exit, Julian's ice-cold voice rang out behind me.

"Call the police."

I froze.

The assistant next to him whispered in confusion, "Mr. Sterling, she... she already took the check."

"I don't care," Julian said, his voice carrying clearly over the speakers. "The money was to give her a bit of dignity. But she still has to pay for her crime!"

I didn't look back.

I squeezed the check in my pocket so hard that the edges began to tear.

At that moment, I realized Julian hadn't given me dignity at all. He had only given me humiliation.