Monica Reed, a determined woman from Chicago, dreamed of a better life for herself and her family. When she met Brandon Carter, the charming heir to a powerful Atlanta political family, she thought she'd found her escape. But life as Mrs. Brandon Carter was far from the fairytale she envisioned. Brandon's family rejected her, and he became emotionally neglectful and abusive. Monica was falsely accused of cheating, humiliated, and kicked out, pregnant and alone. Returning to Chicago, Monica rebuilt her life, secretly raising her daughter, Leila, while working multiple jobs and earning a degree. She reinvented herself as Morgan Chase, a successful CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire. A decade later, Morgan has the power and resources to take down the Carter family and is determined to destroy their legacy. When Brandon, now divorced and struggling, meets Morgan, he's captivated by her success, unaware she is the woman he abandoned. He tries to win her back, but Morgan seeks more than revenge-she wants to break him and his family. Now in control, Morgan must decide if revenge is enough, or if she wants to destroy everything Brandon and his family hold dear.
Chapter 1 The Price of Dreams
The grand hall of the Carter Enterprises gala gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, the polished floors reflecting the sparkling elegance that defined Brandon's world. Monica Reed, now nothing more than a shadow in her husband's life, stood at the edge of the event, her heart racing as she adjusted her uniform. The evening was a celebration of Brandon's latest project, a real estate venture that promised to elevate the Carter family's already substantial wealth and power.
Monica was nothing but a servant here tonight, a distant figure at the periphery of a world she had once hoped to be part of. She had been tasked with serving drinks to the elite guests, her role far removed from the wife she once hoped to be. She wore a stiff smile, keeping her head down as she moved among the guests, all dressed in designer gowns and tuxedos. They barely acknowledged her presence. In their eyes, she was invisible. She was nothing more than an accessory to the event - just another hand offering them drinks in a sea of polished faces.
As she approached a table where a woman sat, her heart thudded painfully against her chest. She was always nervous in these spaces, never quite knowing where she fit, or even if she belonged. The woman at the table, dressed in a sleek black gown, looked up from her conversation with a dismissive glance, clearly uninterested in Monica's presence.
"Orange juice?" Monica asked, her voice soft and polite.
The woman made no effort to acknowledge her as she accepted the drink. But just as Monica leaned in to place the glass on the table, she felt her elbow brush against the edge of the woman's chair. The glass tipped, sending a stream of orange juice splashing across the woman's pristine white dress.
The room went still for a moment. Monica's breath caught in her throat as she watched the juice spread across the woman's expensive fabric, each drop feeling like an indictment of her presence in this world.
The woman's face twisted in anger, her eyes narrowing as she glanced up at Monica. "What the hell is this?" she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt.
Before Monica could react, the woman's hand shot out, and with a sudden, forceful motion, she slapped her across the face. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, and the guests turned to watch, their eyes wide as the scene unfolded.
Monica staggered slightly, stunned by the unexpected blow. Her cheek stung, but the humiliation she felt in that moment was far worse. She could feel the eyes of the entire room on her, their whispers rising like a swarm of bees. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the words felt stuck, thick in her throat.
"I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, reaching for a napkin to try to mop up the mess. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to-"
The woman didn't let her finish. With a huff, she brushed the napkin away and stood up, her face twisted in disgust. "Do you even know who I am?" she sneered. "You're nothing but a clumsy fool, ruining my night."
Monica stood frozen, her mind racing as the woman ranted. This wasn't the first time someone had treated her this way. In the world of the Carters, she had always been the outsider, the one who never quite fit in.
But the slap wasn't the worst part. No, that came when Diane Carter, Brandon's mother, swept into view. The matriarch's presence always commanded attention, and tonight was no different. As she strode over to the scene with her cold, calculating gaze, Monica's heart sank.
"Monica," Diane said, her voice laced with disdain. "You're making a fool of yourself - again."
Monica's stomach churned as Diane stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. Monica wanted to shrink into the ground. Diane turned to the woman with a tight smile. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience," she said, her tone sickeningly sweet. "Let me handle this."
Diane then turned back to Monica, her eyes piercing through her like knives. "You've embarrassed yourself and my son, yet again. And I'm sure this isn't the first time, is it?"
Monica's chest tightened. The weight of the room's judgment pressed down on her. She opened her mouth to speak, to explain that she hadn't meant to, but Diane didn't give her a chance.
"Do you know who you're standing in front of?" Diane continued, her voice rising slightly. "This is Marissa Reed, the top real estate investor in the city. She's someone we've been trying to court for years. And here you are, spilling drinks on her like some common server." Diane sneered, then turned to the woman, "I'm so sorry, Marissa. Monica here is my son's wife. Or rather," she glanced back at Monica, her voice dripping with malice, "she was. I'm sure it won't be long before she's thrown out of his life. A woman like her doesn't belong in this world."
The words stung like acid, and Monica could feel her face flush as the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Every word from Diane cut deeper than the last, and Monica's heart pounded in her chest. The woman she had once hoped would accept her now despised her, and her own husband was nowhere to be found.
She looked around the room, searching for a familiar face, for Brandon, but he was standing at the far end of the hall, his back turned. She could feel the coldness of his gaze even from a distance, but he did nothing. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood there, watching as she was humiliated, doing nothing to stop it.
Her mind swirled. The man I married... the man I loved... this is who he's become.
Diane's voice broke through her thoughts. "Monica," she spat, "kneel and apologize. Show some respect for the people who make this family what it is. Now."
Monica's hands trembled as she sank to her knees, her heart in her throat. The cold floor beneath her seemed to swallow her whole. The spotlight was on her, and she was nothing but a spectacle - a joke.
She could feel the sting of Brandon's indifference even from across the room. The realization hit her like a freight train. Brandon had allowed this. He had never truly stood up for her. He had never once defended her against his family's cruelty, not when it mattered.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break down in front of them.
Diane turned away with a wave of her hand, signaling for the woman to dismiss the whole matter. "Don't worry, Marissa. We'll handle this... and her, of course."
As the Carters moved on, the event continued, but Monica was left on her knees, her face flushed with shame, her heart crumbling in her chest. This was not the life she had dreamed of. This was not the future she had envisioned when she first married Brandon.
She had come here thinking she was stepping into a world of elegance and freedom, but now, after the slap, after the insults, after the crushing realization of how little she mattered, Monica knew she had been wrong. She wasn't living a dream. She was trapped in a nightmare.
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