“Sign the divorce papers now! I’m sick of looking at your bloated, milk-stained body! I need a young trophy wife worthy of my CEO status, not a pathetic housewife like you!” My husband threw divorce papers in my face while I was still bleeding from an emergency C-section. He brought his mistress secretary to mock me. He didn’t know his CEO title was just a puppet role I created, and I was the real Chairman who owned everything.

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PROLOGUE: THE ARCHITECT IN THE SHADOWS

In Silicon Valley’s pressure-cooker world, influence comes in two forms: the person featured on glossy covers, and the person who quietly signs the decisions that shape everything. For five years, the public assumed Mark Miller played both roles.

They were mistaken.

Vance Global wasn’t merely a corporation; it was a dynasty. Arthur Vance built it with a founder’s obsession—metal, microchips, and a cold devotion to discretion. When he died, the world held its breath, waiting to see who would take the crown. They watched Anna Vance—soft-spoken, plain, newly grieving—fade a step backward. They watched her husband, Mark Miller—magnetic, ambitious, always smiling—move forward into the spotlight.

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