I’d only been married for two days when my mil dismissed the housekeeper, passed me her apron, and expected me to take her place. She assumed I’d accept it without a word but she had completely misjudged me.

You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Patricia’s expression hardened.

Then I bent down.

Daniel smirked, clearly believing I had finally surrendered.

I picked up the apron.

Folded it carefully.

Placed it on the marble counter.

“I’ll take care of the household,” I said.

Patricia smiled again.

“I knew you’d understand.”

Oh, I understood perfectly.

What none of them knew was that before marrying Daniel, I had spent eight years working as a forensic accountant specializing in family trusts, financial fraud, hidden assets, and corporate misconduct.

And three weeks before our wedding, my attorney had uncovered something interesting while reviewing the prenuptial agreement Daniel’s family had insisted I sign.

The mansion Patricia treated like her personal kingdom didn’t actually belong to her.

Neither did several of the companies funding her expensive lifestyle.

Everything was controlled by a family trust.

A trust whose newest controlling beneficiary—following Daniel’s grandfather’s death