I’ll Marry His Rival and Burn His Empire to Ash Chapter 02

I’ll Marry His Rival and Burn His Empire to Ash Chapter 02

When I woke again, I heard people speaking softly outside my bedroom door.

It was Jackson. And Savannah-Claire.

“…I told you she would go insane,” Savannah-Claire said, her voice thick with choked-back tears. “Jackson, I’m so scared. Our baby…”

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” Jackson said, his voice tired but firm. “Anyone who hurts my son will pay for it. Even Ava.”

I opened my eyes. My throat was dry and raw, as if it had been scraped with sandpaper. The family doctor was changing the IV bag connected to my arm.

“Mrs. Devereaux, you’re awake,” he said softly. “You had mild hypothermia, but you’re stable now.”

I didn’t look at Jackson, who was standing by the bed. I just nodded to the doctor.

“Could I have a glass of water, please?”

“Ava, you’re awake.” Jackson immediately reached for the glass the nurse brought, moving to help me drink.

I ignored his outstretched hand, propped myself up, took the glass from the nurse, and drained it in one go.

Only when the cool water slid down my burning throat did I feel alive again.

Savannah-Claire stood behind Jackson, her eyes red and swollen.

“Mrs. Devereaux, are you all right?” she asked timidly, with the wide eyes of a startled fawn. “You were unconscious for almost a day. Jackson was so worried, he didn’t even have time to visit the baby.”

She paused, biting her lip, and looked at me with a sad, innocent gaze.

“I know you don’t like me… but next time, could you please not hurt the baby? He’s so little. So innocent.”

I took a moment to truly study her for the first time.

In the nightmare, she had been a vague symbol, the catalyst for my life’s collapse. Now, seeing this woman in the flesh, I finally understood her weapon.

She was pretty, of course, but her real power was that fragile, pitiful air—the desperate need for protection. It was the kind of vulnerability Southern society prized above all else. Men would go to war to protect a “delicate flower” like her.

A world away from a woman like me, raised to be elegant, independent, and a steward of my family’s dignity.

I set the glass back on the bedside table.

“To ensure the infant’s safety,” I said, my voice calm and utterly flat, “I had a hidden security camera installed in his room. A nanny cam.”

I saw the color drain from Savannah-Claire’s face.

“We can check the cloud footage,” I continued. “If we want to know who tampered with the rattle, the video will tell us.”

Jackson’s brow furrowed.

“How long are you going to keep this up?!” He moved to stand in front of Savannah-Claire, shielding her like an enraged bull. “If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?”

He glared at me, his eyes full of disappointment and disgust. “Are you suggesting Savannah-Claire would risk her own son’s life just to frame you? Ava, has jealousy made you this unreasonable?”

Looking at his face, so warped by his own bias, I found the whole scene absurd. A single, sharp laugh escaped me.

“I only suggested we check the footage, Jackson. Why are you so agitated?” My gaze slid past him to the trembling woman he was protecting. “I never said she did it.”

“Ava!”

“Jackson, don’t argue with her because of me…” Savannah-Claire’s eyes reddened again. She tugged at his sleeve, then turned to leave. “The baby just woke up. I… I should go check on him.”

Jackson watched her frail form retreat, his expression softening with pity. He clearly wanted to follow her.

“Ava, we’ll talk about this later. The baby…”

I didn’t stop him.

“Go,” I said. “When a child is unwell, he needs his father.”

Jackson seemed to think I was speaking in anger, or perhaps making some kind of concession.

But my eyes were too calm. Calm as a frozen lake, without a single ripple.

Looking into them, an inexplicable tightness seized his chest.

“Ava, you’ve been strange ever since you woke up,” he said quietly, a trace of confusion in his voice. “Do you think that because I have Savannah-Claire and the baby now, I don’t want you anymore?”

“Don’t overthink it. You will always be Mrs. Devereaux. Only you.”

I looked at his handsome face and felt nothing but a profound sense of irony.

Still, I managed a proper smile.

“Jackson, it’s only right for you to take care of her. She did give you a child.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I won’t overthink it,” I said softly. “I’ve figured it all out.”

Yes. I’d figured it out. I would leave him, I would destroy him, and I would make him pay for every last one of his mistakes.

“Really?” Jackson asked, half-believing, half-doubting.

“I only hope,” he warned finally, “that you won’t pretend to be magnanimous to my face while plotting these undignified little schemes behind my back. That will only make me despise you more.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back into the soft pillows.

“I’m tired.”

Jackson finally turned and left.

The moment he stepped out of the bedroom, I picked up my phone and called my private security consultant.

“Mark, it’s me. Pull all security footage from the Devereaux estate nursery from last night until now. Send it to my secure email immediately.”

Less than ten minutes later, the encrypted file arrived.

I opened the video.

On screen, Jackson was holding the baby, his back to the heirloom rattle. Savannah-Claire, taking advantage of his distraction, quickly pulled a small plastic bag from her Hermès handbag and carefully sprinkled the white powder inside onto the silver.

Her movements were swift. Her expression was calm. There was not the slightest hesitation.

I forwarded the video directly to Jackson.

The subject line contained only two words.

[The evidence.]

I didn’t care if he was shocked, or guilty, or angry when he saw the truth.

All I knew was that this wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning.