I found an unopened condom and a hotel bill in my husband’s bag on our tenth anniversary.

The drive up the Hudson Parkway was a blur of flashing red brake lights and rain-streaked asphalt.

When I pulled up to the emergency entrance of Hudson Valley Medical Center at one in the morning, the driveway was crawling with state police cruisers, news vans, and private security detail vehicles bearing the crest of the Carter family.

I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the ER lobby.

The atmosphere inside was thick with tension. Standing near the triage desk was my brother-in-law, Julian Carter—Andrew's younger brother. His suit was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, his face flushed with a mixture of heavy alcohol and raw, hysterical shock.

When Julian saw me walk through the doors, he stumbled toward me, clutching my shoulders.

"Maya! Oh God, Maya!" Julian sobbed, his voice cracking. "It’s a nightmare! It’s an absolute bloody nightmare!"

I gently but firmly detached his hands from my coat. "Julian, calm down. What happened at the hotel? Where is Victoria?"

"Victoria... she's in ICU," Julian gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "The doctors are trying to stop the internal bleeding! She... she lost the baby, Maya! The baby is gone!"

My expression didn't flinch. "And Andrew?"

"Andrew is in Trauma Room 3," Julian whimpered, trembling violently. "The police are standing outside his door. Maya... they found documents in Victoria’s car! Documents proving she and Dr. Vance were trying to drain the entire family trust into a Swiss bank account before tonight! Andrew found out at the hotel before your lawyers even arrived... they fought in the parking lot, and Vance tried to drive off with Victoria!"

The full picture assembled itself in my mind like pieces of sharp, shattered glass.

Victoria had never intended to make Andrew her king. She had used Andrew to get access to the trust execution keys, used Dr. Vance to forge her pregnancy timelines, and planned to sell both Andrew and me down the river while fleeing the country with millions.

Andrew had discovered the theft right before my legal team arrived, confronted them, and spiraled into a chaotic, violent wreck.

"Stay here, Julian," I said coldly, walking past him toward Trauma Room 3.

Two state troopers stood outside the heavy door. I produced my identification. "I'm his wife."