Chapter 1

My father collapsed from a sudden heart attack, and he desperately needed cardiac stents. I asked my husband for a mere five thousand dollars for the emergency surgery.

Landon Mercer, CEO of Mercer Enterprises, coldly shut me down: "Both the corporate and personal accounts are frozen for a major project. Your dad has basic insurance, so just settle for the cheaper domestic stents."

He was the sole controller of all our family finances. His heartless reply forced me into a bitter awakening.

Even though I was an award-winning architect earning nearly half a million a year, my own father was not deemed worthy of decent lifesaving care.

What shattered me completely was an Instagram post from our company intern, Valerie Brooks, forwarded by my coworker:

"Landon is the sweetest! I just mentioned I liked painting, and he immediately dropped seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to fund an art exhibition for me. Totally in love!"

Looking at my father groaning in pain on a gurney in the hallway, and then at the photo of them holding each other intimately, I finally understood.

Landon had never truly loved me.

I was just a stepping stone for his rising career and a cash cow for him to bleed dry.

In that case, Landon, do not blame me for showing no mercy.

1

My father lay pale and weak on an emergency hallway gurney.

The surgeon handed me the consent form, his pen tapping against the estimated cost.

"Mrs. Mercer, your father's main artery is over ninety percent blocked. The coated stents offer much better biocompatibility, but he needs at least two. The surgery and intensive care will run around fifty thousand dollars, and we need a five-thousand-dollar deposit right now."

Five thousand dollars was pocket change to a lead architect like me, barely the price of a designer bag.

I pulled out my card and handed it to the nurse.

The terminal beeped sharply. "Transaction declined. Insufficient funds."

The nurse frowned. "Ma'am, there's only forty dollars left on this card."

Stunned, I pulled out my phone and dialed Landon.

"Landon," my voice trembled, "Dad had a heart attack. He needs emergency stents and the hospital requires a deposit. Why is my card declining?"

Silence hung on the line for two seconds before Landon's chilly voice answered. "The company is bidding on the Skycrest project, so all liquid capital is locked in the escrow account. I used our personal funds for collateral too."

Panic flared in my chest. "But this is my dad's life! I only need five thousand dollars! As the CEO, you can't possibly lack five grand in cash!"

Landon's tone turned instantly impatient. "I don't have it. Doesn't he have insurance? Why can't he use the standard stents? Why do you insist on being so dramatic about premium ones?"

"Landon, that's my father! We have the money!"

"Stop making a scene, Nora. I'm hosting clients at a gallery right now. Goodbye."

The dial tone pierced my ear like an icicle.

A gallery?

Before I could process his words, my phone vibrated with a message.

It was a social media post from our intern, Valerie Brooks, forwarded by a colleague.

The first photo showed her in an haute couture gown under bright spotlights, posing before a massive abstract canvas.

Her caption read: "Landon is the sweetest! I just mentioned I liked painting, and he immediately dropped seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to fund my personal art exhibition. Totally in love!"

The second picture captured them in a passionate embrace. The third showed Landon holding a champagne flute, gazing at Valerie with intoxicating adoration.

This was my husband.

While my father fought for his life and I begged for a few thousand dollars, Landon threw nearly a million at an intern just because she pouted.

A sharp ache tore through my chest as I stared at the pictures.

Moments later, the nurse nudged me gently. "Mrs. Mercer, which stents are we going with? Any further delay could be fatal."

I looked up, watching my father curling in agony through the glass window.

"Use the best ones. I will cover the deposit immediately."

As I signed my name, my pride and love felt trampled into freezing mud.

I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

In three years of marriage, I had drawn hundreds of blueprints that built the foundation of Mercer Enterprises.

Yet in Landon's eyes, my father's life wasn't worth five thousand dollars.

Did all my devotion really pale in comparison to a pretty young assistant?