He asked me to bless his pregnant mistress in front of his entire family as if my marriage were nothing more than a formality.

Four months later, the spring flowers were in full bloom, covering the city in vibrant shades of pink, white, and gold.

I stood in the nursery of my new home—a beautiful, historic brownstone filled with light and warmth, located far away from the cold, sterile apartment I had shared with Callum. The walls were painted a soft, calming sage green, and a beautiful hand-carved wooden crib stood in the center of the room.

The door opened, and Arthur walked in, a warm, genuine smile on his face. He was carrying a thick folder of legal documents, but today, his demeanor was entirely relaxed.

"It’s done, Vivienne," he said, handing me the final decree. "The court has finalized the adoption and parental rights termination. Blythe Henderson has officially signed the final relinquishment papers. You are legally, biologically, and solely the mother of this child. No one can ever challenge your custody."

"Thank you, Arthur," I said, holding the paper to my chest, feeling a deep, profound sense of peace settle over my heart. "For everything."

"You did this, Vivienne," he said softly. "Your father would be incredibly proud of you. You protected his legacy, you protected yourself, and you built a future out of the ruins."

Just then, the phone on the table buzzed. It was a message from the private hospital wing where Blythe was being cared for under guard.

She’s in labor. It's time.