The Interpreter's Revenge, Erasing My Billionaire Ex

After five years of marriage, I finally found out that my husband, Vincent Pierce, already had another wife—Lorelei Vance. And legally, he and I had never even registered a marriage certificate. I didn't scream or cry. Instead, I immediately contacted my business partner overseas, making plans to leave with my son and my mother. He thought I would stay trapped in the dark forever, completely under his thumb. This time, I was going to take everything that belonged to me and make sure Vincent could never find us again. Clara's POV Vincent and I had held a wedding back in my hometown. Yet after five years of waiting, that official marriage license never arrived. Vincent always claimed to be an on-site project manager in construction, only visiting home twice a year. He constantly promised that as soon as his current development wrapped up, we would finalize the legal paperwork. Before having a baby, I worked as a conference simultaneous interpreter. I quit once I became pregnant with our son, Leo. Recently, I took my five-year-old son and my mother on a four-hour bus ride, moving from my hometown to New York just so our family could finally be together. Once we settled in, I spent half a month doing written translation work, and soon after, I passed the test to join the city’s top interpretation firm. My very first official assignment was the joint venture signing conference between the Pierce Group and a foreign conglomerate. I stepped into the interpreter booth and opened the speaker itinerary. Printed under the keynote speaker column was a familiar name: Vincent Pierce. I pulled out my phone and ran a search. A photo of a Pierce Group director popped up on the screen. Dressed in a bespoke suit, he had that exact faint smile I had looked at for years. It was my husband. His endless stories about roughing it on dusty construction sites had been a complete lie from the very beginning. My booth partner nudged my arm. "See that guy? That’s the Pierce family heir. And sitting right below the stage is his wife, Lorelei Vance." "Years ago, someone ambushed him. Lorelei threw herself in front of him, taking a brutal hit that permanently crippled her right arm. Everyone in high society knows he owes her his life." A countdown sounded through my headset, and I pulled the mic closer. Once the contracts were signed, a reporter asked Vincent who he was most grateful for. Vincent took the microphone and gestured toward the backstage area. Lorelei walked up onto the stage and slipped her arm through his. Facing the entire audience, Vincent spoke. "Years ago, when I was being hunted down, Lorelei shielded me from that strike. Her right arm can never lift above her shoulder again. She gave me my life, and everything I own today belongs entirely to her." Behind the anti-glare glass of the interpreter booth, my hands didn't shake. I translated every single sentence into Spanish, word for word. Noticing the blood drain from my face, my partner reached out to take over the mic, but I gently brushed her hand away. I interpreted the entire conference right down to the final second. After the event ended, I took off my headset and rode the subway to pick up my son from preschool. Right outside the front office, the teacher called out to me, holding out a form. "Ms. Campbell, Mr. Pierce registered you as the family's live-in nanny." The teacher pointed to the roster on her desk. "Leo is transferring to a private academy next week, and his mother will be handling pickups and drop-offs from now on. Please take this transfer form back so the boy's mother, Lorelei Vance, can sign it." I stared down at the paper. In the line labeled 'Mother's Name,' Lorelei Vance was clearly written. My name was relegated to the bottom notes section, followed by a single word: *Nanny*. The son I carried for nine months had legally become someone else's child. I folded the transfer form, tucked it into my bag, and took Leo by the hand as we walked out the door. That night, once Leo was fast asleep, I walked out onto the balcony and dialed a number. On the other end was Julian Drake, a senior from my university translation program. Julian had opened an international translation agency abroad and had been inviting me to join as a partner for two full years. Gripping the railing, I kept my voice low and steady. "Julian, that partnership we talked about—I'm taking it." Julian asked, "Are you sure about this?" Looking down at the streetlights below, I replied, "I'm sure. I'm bringing my mom and my son with me. The sooner, the better."Clara's POV The next morning, I requested time off work. Once my mother took Leo down to play in the garden, I locked the front door and started a video call with Julian. "I can't leave any trace behind after I go." I flattened a blank sheet of paper on the table. "And Leo has to come with me." Julian nodded through the screen. "I'll handle your foreign employment visas and legal sponsorships. Put together a checklist of all the domestic documents you need to finalize and send it my way." After hanging up, I took a pen and began listing out the tasks. Passports, notarizations, residency cancellations, immunization records—thirty-nine items in total. I taped the list to the side of the refrigerator. Every time I completed a task, I would cross it off. Just as I taped it up, Vincent called. I answered and put him on speaker. "I booked a trip to Hawaii for you and Leo. You leave this Saturday for two weeks." Vincent spoke rapidly on the other end. "The company has too many projects going on right now, so I won't be able to join. Just let me know if you run low on cash." Clutching the phone, I gave him a one-word answer. "Okay." After hanging up, I walked into the living room. Leo was sitting on the play mat building with Lego blocks. I crouched down and stroked my son's head. "Leo, would you like to move somewhere really far away with Mommy?" Leo snapped two blocks together and looked up at me. "Wherever Mommy goes, I go." I pulled him into a hug, offering no further explanation. That afternoon, I went to the office to submit my resignation. I gave an excuse: "My mother isn't doing well physically. She needs full-time care, so I have to go back and look after her." My supervisor frowned, trying to persuade me to stay. "You're exceptionally talented, and we have three high-level summits scheduled for next week. Could you at least finish those before leaving?" I agreed. Taking on three more interpretation assignments meant earning thousands more in appearance fees, which would guarantee financial stability once we landed abroad. Right as I stepped out of the office building, my phone rang. It was the preschool. The teacher sounded frantic. "Ms. Campbell, Leo developed acute gastroenteritis this afternoon! He's running a dangerously high fever and was rushed to the ER. Please come right away!" I flagged down a taxi. During the ride, I dialed my mother's number three times in a row, but no one answered. When I rushed into the hospital's IV room, Leo had a needle taped to the back of his tiny hand, his face burning bright red. I sat on the edge of the bed and touched his scorching forehead. Leo cracked his eyes half-open and whispered, "Mommy... I want Grandma." I stroked his hair. "Grandma will be here soon, baby." Leo sniffled softly. "Grandma went to work at a pretty lady's house. Daddy found her the job. Grandma said when she's done, she'll buy me Legos." My hand froze in midair. The phone in my pocket began to vibrate; my mother was calling back. She was panting on the other end. "Clara, I was working just now and left my phone on the counter, so I didn't hear it ring. What's wrong?" I stared at the IV drip chamber. "Mom, whose house are you cleaning?" My mother paused, then lowered her voice. "Vincent set it up for me. Over in the luxury estates on the east side of town. It's only two hours a day, and the pay is more than half of what I used to make in a month back home. Vincent said he was worried I'd feel useless sitting around the city, so he specifically picked out something light." My knuckles turned white around the phone. I listened as my mother went on and on about how good Vincent was to her. Those luxury estates on the east side were the Pierce family's private grounds. Vincent had sent my mother to scrub his legitimate wife's floors, while my mom genuinely believed he was a saint.Clara's POV Once Leo's fever came down, I processed his discharge papers. Instead of heading home, I followed the address my mother had mentioned over the phone. The cab took us further out, finally pulling up outside a gated community of private mansions on the east side. Holding my child, I asked the gate guard for directions to the deepest house in the estate—Vincent Pierce's manor. I rang the doorbell. A maid wearing an apron opened the door, sizing me up. "Who are you looking for?" Before I could speak, a woman emerged from the foyer. She wore an off-white silk dress, her right arm hanging limply at her side. It was Lorelei Vance. Right behind her, my mother hurried out from under the covered terrace holding a cleaning rag, the sleeves of her worn gray work shirt rolled up to her elbows. The moment she saw me, she almost dropped the rag. "Clara? What are you doing here? I'm just lending a hand, don't think too much into it." Lorelei's eyes locked onto Leo in my arms, lingering for a long moment. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if the child looked familiar. I took the rag from my mother's hand, threw it onto the marble steps, and grabbed her arm to drag her away. I said only one word: "Home." Lorelei's voice drifted from behind us. "Are you coming back tomorrow?" My mother turned to answer, but my sharp tug made her stumble. I walked fast. Leo had his head rested on my shoulder, having fallen asleep again. My mother jogged behind me, opening her mouth several times. "Clara, I just wanted to earn a little extra for the family..." I didn't answer. Standing at the bus stop, I watched the oncoming traffic and pieced the clues together in my mind. He booked that two-week vacation to get me out of the way. He sent my mother to the Pierce manor to scrub his real wife's floors. My child had long since been registered under Lorelei's name, with the transfer paperwork only awaiting her signature. With one hand, he had quietly trapped my entire family, and we were expected to be grateful to him. That evening, my mother said she had no appetite, but I still brought her and Leo to a nice restaurant inside an upscale shopping mall, wanting the boy to have something warm and light to eat. Barely ten minutes after we sat down, a sudden cheer broke out across the dining room. Patrons crowded toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, someone laughing excitedly. "Today is the Pierce family heir's wedding anniversary! He gifted his wife a limited-edition supercar, parked right down in the plaza!" At a window table across the room, Vincent sat in a sharp black suit, placing a set of car keys into Lorelei's palm. Lorelei smiled and leaned against his shoulder. He tilted his head to whisper something in her ear, drawing another round of applause and cheers from the surrounding crowd. My fingers tightened into fists. Every single year on this exact date, he had told me he was stuck on a construction deadline and couldn't come home. The first three times, I believed him without a second thought. This year, I saw it with my own eyes. He wasn't working at all; he was spending the day at another woman's table. This was the fourth year. My mother recognized the man at that table too. Her hand shaking uncontrollably, she dragged me toward the emergency exit stairs. "Clara... isn't that Vincent? And the woman beside him... is that the lady from this afternoon? Tell me the truth, what is going on here?!" Only a single emergency bulb lit the stairwell. I leaned my back against the cold wall. "Mom... he and I never filed for a marriage certificate." My mother's voice spiked. "Never filed? Then what was that wedding banquet back home?! All our relatives and neighbors were there!" "It was just an expensive dinner he bought for everyone," I said, my voice deadpan. "He already had a wife. It's the woman beside him right now—Lorelei Vance." My mother stared at me, struggling for words before finally choking out, "Then... what about Leo?" "Leo's birth registry lists Lorelei as his legal mother," I said. "Even at his preschool, she's registered as his mother." My mother supported herself against the wall, utterly speechless. Suddenly, she raised her hand and slapped herself across the face with a loud crack. "I was blind! I was an absolute fool! I actually went and scrubbed her floors for days!" She raised her hand to strike herself again, but I seized her wrist. I had planned to keep everything hidden until our flight tickets and foreign documents were ready, intending to simply tell her, *We're moving abroad.* I failed to protect her from the truth. My mother had to learn it right under the dim emergency light of a building where Vincent was wining and dining his wife. I had intended to bear this humiliation entirely on my own, but now my mother was crushed under its weight too. We stood in that stairwell for a long time. By the time we returned to our table, our food was still steaming, but Leo was gone. I stopped a passing server. The server recalled, "Earlier, a lady in a white dress said she was a friend of the boy's mother. She saw the little boy crying alone in the hallway and offered to help him find his mom." I bolted down the corridor toward Vincent's table. Just as I rounded the corner, I saw Lorelei holding Leo's hand, leading him toward Vincent. Lorelei was smiling. "Vincent, I saw this sweet boy crying all alone in the hallway. When I asked for his mother's name, he wouldn't say. Poor little thing." Leo looked up, saw Vincent sitting at the table, wrenched his tiny hand free from Lorelei, and stumbled forward. He threw his arms around Vincent's leg and cried out, "Daddy!" The entire table fell completely silent. Lorelei's hand remained frozen in midair, forgotten. The gazes of the entire restaurant snapped toward them in an instant. I stood frozen at the entrance of the hallway, terrified to take another step forward. My son's cry was real. In the past, he had only ever called him that through video calls. And today, my son had been delivered straight into the hands of the other woman. Hearing that cry of "Daddy," Vincent's face darkened instantly. His eyes darted across the dining room full of guests, never once looking down at the child clinging to his knee.Clara's POV By the time I pushed through the crowd, the window table was already deserted. Following the directions given by a server, I found a private dining room tucked away at the very end of the hall. The moment I pushed the door open, Lorelei was slipping out through a side exit. Only Vincent and Leo remained inside, the little boy sitting quietly on a chair nibbling on a piece of cake. Seeing that it was me, Vincent marched over in three long strides, grabbed me by the collar, and jerked me toward him with enough force to lift me off my feet. His voice was a venomous whisper. "Clara, did you do this on purpose? Did you intentionally bring the boy here just to humiliate me?!" Choking against the fabric, my face flushed crimson as I clawed at his fingers. His very first question was whether I had deliberately tried to make him look bad. The cake slipped from Leo's little hands, hitting the floor as he wailed at the top of his lungs, screaming for Mommy. Vincent shoved me back and slammed the door shut with a deafening bang. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, quickly scribbled a signature, and slapped the check onto the table. "Two million dollars." He shoved the check toward me. "The boy stays with me. Take the cash and disappear. From this moment on, you are never to show your face in front of me or Lorelei again." I looked at him. "He stays with you? Then who is his mother?" Vincent glanced coldly at Leo. "His mother is Lorelei." From start to finish, not a single word of apology crossed his lips. All those years together, bearing his child—to him, it was all worth a single piece of paper. A piece of paper tied to a condition: never appear before him and his real wife again. Once, I thought he might have had unavoidable hardships, that one day he would sit down and explain everything to me. He had explained it now. With a ballpoint pen. I stared at that check for a long time before slowly lifting my gaze. My voice was raspy. "Leo just got discharged from the hospital. He still has a fever and can't be left alone. Can we postpone discussing my departure for a few days?" I needed time. Even just a few days would do. Vincent narrowed his eyes, studying me for several seconds. "Fine. I'll give you three days." I took Leo's hand. His tiny palm was ice-cold, gripping mine tightly. I led my child out the door, never sparing Vincent a second glance. On the ride home, I sent a text to Julian: *Look into Vincent Pierce and Lorelei Vance for me. Everything you can find, as detailed as possible.* Barely two hours later, Julian called back. He gave me the full story. "Years ago, right after Vincent took over the family business, he crossed some dangerous rivals. They hired thugs to ambush him in an underground parking garage. Lorelei was his secretary at the time and happened to go down with him to grab some files. She threw herself in front of an iron pipe meant for him. Her right arm shattered on impact, and even after surgery, the nerve damage was permanent. She can never lift it past her shoulder. Vincent married her that same year out of sheer gratitude. He pampers her endlessly; the whole upper crust knows about it." Hanging up, my resolve only hardened. Part of me had once wondered if there was anything left to fight for. Now I knew I had nothing. Her broken arm was real, his debt of gratitude was real, and the vow he made on that stage was real. I had to get out of this place. Staying even one more day made me sick to my stomach. Late that night, Leo was fast asleep, still murmuring "Daddy" in his dreams. He rolled over, clutching the hem of my shirt with his eyes closed, asking softly, "Mommy... does this mean I get to see Daddy every day now?" My throat tightened. Unable to give him an answer, I gently patted his back until he drifted back to sleep. I walked out to the living room, digging through my purse for the debit card Vincent had given me years ago. All of Leo's formula, all of my mother's medications over the years—everything had been paid for with this card. I had always believed this money was earned through his blood and sweat on construction sites. Whenever I wanted to buy a new coat, I would put it back and think about it for days. What I had been trying to save was my own little glimmer of hope: *He works so hard out there, so I have to protect this home for him.* Now, the money in this card was nothing more than a sick joke. I pulled open a drawer and shoved the card to the very bottom. From this moment on, I would never spend a single cent from that account again. The next morning when I woke up, the apartment was dead silent. Normally, my mother would have been in the kitchen simmering oatmeal by this hour, but today the stove was cold. A handwritten note sat pinned beneath a cup on the dining table. *Clara, I have to go demand an explanation to his face. Don't come looking for me. I'm going alone.* Clutching the note, I scrambled for my phone.Clara's POV I called over and over, but my mother never picked up. I figured she had likely gone to the Pierce manor, but the security guards would never let her past the gates. Once she was turned away, she would come home. As the sun fully crested the horizon, Julian called from abroad. "The new legal identities for you and your mother are almost ready. The only issue is Leo. Because he isn't legally registered under your name, you're missing several critical documents required to clear customs." Those documents were undoubtedly in Vincent's possession. He had always claimed that the luxury two-bedroom condo downtown was an executive suite provided by his engineering firm. The day I arrived in the city, he handed me the keys, telling me I could stay there whenever I wanted. I had treated those keys like an open door he kept for our family. Today, I had to use them to break into his place and retrieve my own son's records. I entrusted Leo to our downstairs neighbor's care and headed out, timing my arrival for when Vincent would be at work. The condo was on the twenty-third floor. It bore no resemblance to "company housing"—the building required keycard access just to enter the lobby. The interior was decorated in minimalist black, white, and gray tones, clearly rarely inhabited. I headed straight for the study. Mounted against the back wall behind the desk was a digital combination safe. I sent Julian a quick message. Half an hour later, a man wearing a baseball cap arrived, set his toolkit on the floor, and cracked the lock in under ten minutes. Sitting right on top was a marriage certificate. In the photo, Vincent smiled gently, with Lorelei leaning softly against him, her right arm resting lightly on his sleeve. Underneath the certificate lay Leo's birth records. In the line labeled 'Mother,' Lorelei Vance was listed. The child I brought into this world was, on paper, another woman's son. All the midnight feedings, the frantic hospital visits, the moments I taught him how to say his first words—not a single trace of my existence was written into that legal document. I snapped photos of the paperwork and sent them to Julian, gripping the edges so hard they crumpled before placing them back. Just as I locked the safe door, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number from a local hospital. A nurse's voice came through, breathless with urgency. "Are you the family member of the elderly woman brought in this morning? The patient suffered a severe fall down a flight of stairs and is in critical resuscitation! Please come immediately!" I sprinted toward the hospital. The subway was packed, and my tears fell uncontrollably, faster than I could wipe them away. When I arrived outside the trauma room, the red light had just turned off. The doctor pulled down his surgical mask and shook his head somberly. "I'm so sorry. We did everything we could. The patient sustained severe cranial trauma from the fall. She was already gone by the time the ambulance arrived." I grabbed the doctor's coat sleeve, my knees instantly giving out. "Please check again! She was completely fine last night!" The doctor remained silent, gently sliding his sleeve from my grip. The downstairs neighbor arrived, holding Leo by the hand. Leo tugged on my skirt, tilting his little face up. "Mommy... where's Grandma? Where did Grandma go?" Unable to speak, I pulled him into my arms, burying my face in his neck. The nurse handed me my mother's belongings: a faded blue canvas bag containing only a ring of keys and a half-eaten roll of peppermint candies. The cheap little flip phone she never went anywhere without was missing. My father had bought that phone for her before he passed away. She carried it everywhere, even tucking it into her pocket when she went out for morning walks. Of the three people I planned to take away, my mother's new identity had just been finalized this morning. Now, it was useless. I had brought her away from our small town hoping she could enjoy a few peaceful, comfortable years in the city. Yet all she had ever done here was scrub Vincent's wife's floors, only to die on the pavement after falling down the stairs of his mansion. Holding that canvas bag on the hallway bench, an overwhelming sense of dread crept over me. How could she have fallen down the stairs for no reason? I called the police. An investigation was opened, and officers went to the Pierce manor to review security footage. During my statement, an officer glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then leaned in and whispered, "Take my advice—don't try to fight the Pierce family. You won't win." Two days later, he called me back. "The case has been closed as an accidental fall. The security camera at the third-floor stairwell happened to be malfunctioning that day, and there were no signs of a struggle. Your mother simply lost her footing." I hung up the phone and marched straight to the Pierce manor. Standing before those towering black iron gates, I pounded on the metal, screaming at the top of my lungs. "Vincent Pierce! Come out here and face me! Give me an explanation!" The main gate never opened. Instead, two private security guards in black suits stepped out through the side entrance, shoving me hard to the ground. "Get lost! You think you can just come making a scene at the Pierce estate?!" I crashed onto the concrete, my palms tearing open and bleeding. My phone buzzed. It was Vincent. "Clara, consider this my final warning. Stop this right now. If you dare take another step toward my family, you will never see Leo again." He hung up immediately. I had actually believed there was still justice to be found in this city—filing reports, opening cases, pulling surveillance footage, following the rules. Yet all I received was an excuse about a broken camera and a warning not to cross the powerful. All I had to fight with was myself, while he held my child hostage to silence me at any second. Sitting on the cold pavement, clutching my phone, I couldn't shed a single tear. I stood up, staggering down the sidewalk. Before I had walked very far, hurried footsteps approached from behind. It was a middle-aged man wearing gray groundskeeper overalls. He glanced nervously over both shoulders, his voice barely audible. "You're the daughter of the elderly woman from yesterday, right? I'm the groundskeeper at the Pierce estate. I was the first one who found her at the bottom of the stairs. When I shouted for help, Mr. Pierce and Ms. Vance were just coming down from upstairs. This phone was dropped in the corner of the landing. I picked it up and hid it—I didn't give it to them." What he shoved into my trembling hands was my mother's small flip phone. Without another word, he turned on his heel and vanished down the street. I found a secluded park bench, sat down, and pressed play on the voice memo. Static hissed from the speaker for several seconds, followed by Vincent's cold voice: *“She’s nothing more than an incubator to bear and raise our child—”* Then came Lorelei's soft, mocking chuckle, followed by a frantic scuffle of footsteps—someone running, and someone chasing right behind them. *Thud!* After that, there was only dead silence. The very last thing my mother heard in this life was Vincent plotting how to dispose of her daughter. When she ran, someone was hunting her down. I slipped the phone into my inner jacket pocket, pressing it firmly against my chest until it bruised. I wouldn't tell a soul about this. Not a single word. As long as this phone remained with me, this case was far from over.