Not a Wife, Not a Mom: She's an IT Boss Now! Free Preview

From school uniform to wedding dress, Ashley Shanks stood by Grayson Holmes as he built his company from nothing, and he swore he would love her forever.

But later, at the scene of a crime, Grayson said, "Yvonne is an important asset to the company. You take the fall for her, and when you come back, everything will be just like before."

Even her three-year-old son cried and insisted she was the murderer.

Her own family said, "Yvonne’s project holds the fate of the Shanks family business. Take the blame for her, and when you return, we’ll make it up to you."

But when she was released, she cut ties, built a fortune worth billions, and gave it all away.

Her husband, her son, her family—none of them could bring her back.

…

"Ashley, you can leave prison now."

The cell door opened, and a guard stood at the entrance. Ashley stared in shock before slowly stepping forward.

"Has my medical parole been approved?"

She had applied many times, yet each request had always been returned without explanation.

The guard snapped, "You’re being let out. Stop asking so many questions."

Ashley didn’t get an answer. She gathered her few belongings, taking with her the phone she had been forced to surrender and a diamond necklace.

The central stone of the pendant still bore a faint stain, like blood soaked deep into its surface.

It was the necklace her grandmother had given her on the day of the accident—splattered with blood when her grandmother fell down the stairs and struck her head.

That day, Ashley had quarreled with Yvonne Lane. Yvonne lashed out, but it was her grandmother who fell down the stairs.

Someone called the police, and Ashley was pushed forward as the scapegoat.

Back then, proud and reckless, she had gone with the officers without looking back—never imagining she’d be sentenced to three years.

Now, after two years, she stepped out of prison, feeling as if she had lived through another lifetime.

Outside, a plain car was parked at the curb.

As soon as she emerged, the driver got out.

"Ma’am, I’m here to take you home."

"Moses… this…"

The Holmes and Shanks families had garages full of luxury cars. Why was Moses driving his personal vehicle?

"Sir said my car is low-profile. The family cars aren’t suitable to bring near a prison. Too much bad luck."

So that was it—bad luck.

And who had caused her misfortune these last two years?

No one had visited her during her sentence. That must have been the reason.

On the ride back, Moses explained that the Shanks and Holmes families had arranged false medical parole to get her out early.

Her genuine applications had been blocked at every turn.

But a false one? Passed with ease.

Something was wrong.

If they had the power to do this, why hadn’t they gotten her out before?

Why now?

The Holmes family.

Ashley gazed at the familiar home, her emotions a storm.

It had once been her and Grayson’s marital home, the place where their son, Liam Holmes, had been born.

She had worked tirelessly to support Grayson’s career, neglecting her own health during pregnancy. Liam was born frail, and Ashley had lived like a full-time caretaker.

The moment she entered, she noticed the scene.

Grayson, her father Morgan Shanks, and her brother Quinton Shanks were deep in discussion, not even glancing her way.

Liam’s back faced her.

Even after two years, she recognized her son instantly.

Her eyes welled with tears.

She had begged countless times in prison to see him, but her family always refused, saying it wasn’t right to bring a child there.

Ashley held back her tears as Liam turned around. Only then did she see the massive ice cream cone in his hand.

Her face paled.

Grayson knew Liam had asthma—how could he let him eat ice cream?

Just as she rushed forward, a gentle female voice rang out.

"Liam, is the ice cream good?"

Yvonne walked out, holding a tray of tea.

Ashley’s expression darkened.

The one truly responsible for her grandmother’s death—how could she still have the audacity to be here?

Worse, she was by Liam’s side.

Ashley’s chest tightened with fury, but at that moment Liam piped up sweetly.

"Aunt Yvonne bought it. It’s so good."

Ashley froze. Aunt Yvonne?

Why would Liam call her that?

Before she could make sense of it, a middle-aged woman emerged from the kitchen, carrying a plate of fruit.

Ashley recognized her instantly.

The last time she had seen this woman was when she was ten.

Her mother had taken her along to catch her father cheating. There had been a fight, and in the chaos her father had smashed a vase over her mother’s head. From that day, her mother had never been the same.

Ashley remembered the woman’s name clearly: Susan Lane.

And now, seventeen years later, Susan appeared in her home once again.

Wait—Susan. Yvonne. Could it be a coincidence they shared the same last name?

The answer came in the next second.

"Mom…" Yvonne said softly.

That single word shattered Ashley’s world.

Her father’s mistress and her husband’s mistress—mother and daughter.

Her chest heaved violently as she looked around. Everyone else acted as if nothing were unusual.

As if they had already accepted it.

Her brothers—how could they tolerate this?

Their mother had lost her sanity because of this woman, yet they had let their father bring her openly into the family home.

Before Ashley could recover from the shock, Susan set the fruit down beside Liam.

She smiled. "Liam, your mother will be home soon. Do you miss her?"

Liam’s face fell. He clung to Yvonne’s hand and said, "I want Aunt Yvonne to be my mom."

Ashley stood frozen at the doorway, hearing every word loud and clear.

Her own son… wanted someone else to be his mother.

And that someone was the very person who had sent her to prison.

Her head buzzed in disbelief, when Morgan spoke up, "If you want Yvonne to be your mom, then you’d better ask me first."

Yvonne’s cheeks flushed as she protested softly, "Don’t joke about something like that."

Even her brother joined in the teasing. "Grayson and Yvonne—talented man and beautiful woman. They look like a good match."

"Quinton, not you too," Yvonne replied, flustered.

Ashley’s eyes snapped toward Grayson. In two years he had grown more refined, carrying himself with the natural authority of someone at the top. The face that had once captivated her was still handsome, just as it had been when she was young.

But from start to finish, he hadn’t spoken a single word. Instead, he simply reached for the fruit Yvonne handed him, the gesture so smooth and familiar it carried an intimacy she couldn’t ignore.

So this was what her absence had left behind.

Her chest tightened painfully. Just then, her eldest brother’s voice came from behind. "Ashley… you’re out?"

The others inside the room turned their heads, rising from their seats.

Her gaze locked with Grayson’s. Seeing her, his expression didn’t shift at all. No joy, no warmth—only a chilling indifference.

Back in prison, Ashley had imagined this moment countless times—throwing herself into his arms, crying until she had no tears left.

But now that she faced him in reality, she realized his eyes held nothing but distance.

She had loved him since she was a teenager.

People whispered that he was an illegitimate son, but Ashley never cared. For love, she chased him fearlessly.

Even though Grayson was always polite and distant with everyone, she had fought to close that gap.

She skipped grades, scored high enough to enter the very school he attended.

She followed him to his university, proudly claiming she had earned it by her own merits. That was the first time he had looked at her differently.

From there, she shadowed his every step through graduate school. Just before applying for her doctorate, she spent a night with him.

Afterward, she devoted herself to him—pouring in money, resources, and effort to help him build his business.

When his startup succeeded, the Holmes family finally acknowledged him, welcoming him back as heir.

That was when the Shanks and Holmes families sealed their union.

Ashley, now pregnant, shifted her focus to the home and to raising Liam.

But gradually she noticed Grayson’s attention wandering.

One day, he introduced a new woman into Holmes Corp’s AI division with great fanfare.

Ashley learned then that Yvonne was his long-cherished love.

He brought her into the Shanks family as well, presenting her at his grandmother’s birthday celebration—a chain of events that ended in tragedy.

And when it came time to protect someone, he chose Yvonne, sacrificing Ashley instead.

Now, standing before him, Ashley wondered bitterly if her only mistake had been falling for him in the first place.

Her thoughts scattered as Quinton rushed to her, reaching for her hand. Reflexively, she pulled away.

He froze, surprised. They had always been the closest siblings.

Quinton eyed her cropped hair—cut short during her sentence. Once, Ashley’s long, silky locks had been pampered at the cost of hundreds of thousands a year. Now, she looked simple, stripped down, almost unrecognizable.

"It’s good you’re back, Ashley. These past two years must’ve been hard. Don’t worry—now that you’re home, everything will be just like before."

Just like before?

How could anything be the same?

She now carried the stain of prison on her record, convicted of harming the grandmother who had loved her most. To her family, to society, even to her son—nothing could return to what it once was.

And with her father’s mistress Susan and her husband’s mistress Yvonne both living under this roof, how could life possibly be unchanged?

She knew someone must have seen what really happened that night. Yet everyone had stood together and pointed at her as the culprit.

It had never been the same.

Her heart sank as Morgan glanced at Grayson.

Grayson stepped forward and, to her shock, spoke first. "Everything I promised you still stands. The dividends from the past two years are set aside, with extra added. If you want to stay here, you can. If you’d rather go back to your family, I’ll move there with you."

Ashley looked up at him, stunned. She searched his eyes.

He had never been one to lie.

And now, his gaze was filled with… expectation.

Expectation? Why would he expect anything from her?

Hadn’t his heart always belonged to Yvonne?

A year into her sentence, Ashley had already figured it out. She signed the divorce papers without hesitation, agreeing to leave with nothing.

She hadn’t received the certificate behind bars, but surely the marriage had been dissolved by then.

She had freed him. So why hadn’t he married Yvonne?

How could he speak as if he were still her husband, as if he could live with her here or move back to her family’s home?

She had just seen him with Yvonne, their every movement in sync, their bodies leaning close like an old married couple.

Ashley was still struggling to make sense of his words when Yvonne stepped forward, guiding Liam by the hand.

She knelt gracefully, smiling as she coaxed, "Liam, your mom’s finally back. Don’t you want to go talk to her?"

Ashley’s heart ached. He was her child—her flesh and blood. Her eyes stung as she reached out, longing to embrace him.

But as her arms opened, Liam jerked away, hiding behind Yvonne.

"You’re a murderer," he said coldly. "I don’t want you to hold me."

Ashley’s heart shattered into pieces. The son she had carried for ten long months, nearly giving her life to bring him safely into the world—frail from birth, burdened with hereditary heart problems—had survived only through her sleepless care and sacrifice.

And now this very child misunderstood her, called her a murderer.

Her voice trembled. "Liam, I’m your mom."

But Liam cried out, "I don’t want you to be my mom! I don’t want the other kids to laugh at me for having a mom who went to prison!"

Ashley staggered back a few steps, her vision blurring. Liam peeked half his face out from behind Yvonne.

At once Yvonne soothed her gently. "Ms. Ashley, he’s just a child. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, don’t take it to heart. He hasn’t seen you in two years—of course he feels distant. Give him time. The bond of mother and son is in the blood. A few days together and he’ll come around."

With her poise and grace, Yvonne seemed noble, elegant, magnanimous—making Ashley, by contrast, look petty, emotional, unbearably tacky.

Give him time? Ashley almost laughed. She had no more time to give.

Her brother quickly added, "Ashley, Yvonne’s right. Don’t hold it against Liam. These past two years, he’s always been with Yvonne. She’s not only contributed so much to the company, she’s cared for the family—and for Liam, too."

Ashley’s eyes turned to Grayson.

Two years ago, he had been there.

From where he stood, he should have clearly seen Yvonne push her grandmother down the stairs.

He was her husband. He was Liam’s father.

Even then, he hadn’t spoken a word in her defense.

Afterward, he couldn’t even explain to his son, couldn’t protect her name in the boy’s heart.

Her gaze accused him now—he was powerful, his words carried weight, yet never once had he defended her.

Perhaps sensing her reproach, Grayson finally spoke.

"What’s past is past. With the Shanks family and the Holmes family standing together, no one will dare bring up these two years. We’ve already arranged to say you went abroad to study. The matter will be buried. No one will ever mention prison again, don’t worry."

Morgan chimed in, "Let’s not bring up old matters. The family is reunited now. In a while, we’ll sit down together for a reunion dinner. Your room’s been cleaned and prepared. After dinner, we’ll give you and Grayson time together. You must've been missing your husband."

Ashley froze at that word—husband. She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could speak, Grayson came to her side.

He slid an arm around her waist.

Startled, she looked up. His eyes were still cold, distant as ever.

Yet to the others, he smiled gently, speaking with the warmth of a loving spouse. "Now that she’s home, we can have the reunion dinner whenever. She just came back, and I don't want her to feel tense, so I’ve already booked a hotel room, and it should be ready now."

His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her close as if they were long-separated lovers finally reunited, as though a night together were the most natural thing in the world.

But his words made her blood run cold.

Hotel room?

What’s he planning? He's not gonna want s*x tonight, right? Sh*t!

Ashley was shaken to her core.

In her memory, during the three years of her marriage before prison, she could count on one hand how many times she and Grayson had been intimate.

Grayson was restrained, ascetic, seemingly uninterested in the physical bond between man and woman. His energy went almost entirely into work. He was a workaholic, notorious for it.

Ashley had once asked around—some people were simply born indifferent to such matters. She never pressed him.

The only time she conceived Liam had been after the Holmes family, anxious for an heir, set scented candles in their bedroom. Only afterward had Ashley learned that Grayson had been swayed by the aphrodisiac fragrance. But the child was conceived, Grayson was pleased, and she never pushed the matter.

But now—after two years apart, with his long-adored crush at his side—how could his first thought be to take her to bed?

She thought she must be imagining things.

If she pushed him away and he hadn’t meant it that way, it would look as though she had been too eager herself.

And so, Ashley allowed herself to be led from the Shanks estate.

Grayson’s car waited at the door. Two years apart, and he was driving a newer, pricier model—a sign the Holmes business was thriving.

He opened the door for her with deliberate courtesy. Ashley studied him closely, searching for his intention. Surely he didn’t mean to…? More likely he wanted to speak in private.

That, at least, she could bear to hear.

But no sooner had she stepped into the car than Yvonne appeared at the doorway.

Grayson’s face shifted.

Ashley, peering through the glass, caught Yvonne’s expression—forced brightness masking clear disappointment.

The two exchanged a few words outside. The car’s soundproofing kept Ashley from hearing. At last they parted, Yvonne putting on a brave smile, the picture of generosity, as though yielding Ashley her rightful place.

Grayson slid into the seat beside her. The small space went heavy with silence, so close she could hear his heartbeat.

Neither spoke a word the entire drive.

When they arrived at the hotel, Ashley’s steps faltered. The room had been arranged in advance. Roses lay scattered, candles flickered. The sweet, musky scent of the same incense filled the air.

Her brows knitted instantly. She remembered it too well. Five years ago, this very fragrance had led to the night Liam was conceived.

So she hadn’t been mistaken.

He hadn’t brought her here to talk. He had brought her here for this.

The hotel, the flowers, the candles—it was all arranged for that.

Insane. He was insane.

Ashley froze in the doorway.

She lifted her chin, met his gaze. "Grayson, do you love me?"

Love. He had never once said that word to her.

As she expected, he was silent.

His silence was answer enough.

Ashley turned to leave. Grayson caught her arm, then hesitated, loosening his grip.

"Never mind. You’ve just come back. It must be hard for you to accept. We’ll… take it slow."

We.

They had signed the divorce papers a year ago. What “we” was there left?

Even if he felt guilty for not defending her two years ago, she had no time left to “take it slow.”

For a moment, Ashley nearly told him the truth—that she was dying. But the words stuck in her throat. What would be the point? To beg for his pity?

Her voice broke instead. "Two years ago, from where you stood, you had the clearest view. You saw it was Yvonne who pushed Grandmother. Was Yvonne so important to you? Important enough that you sacrificed me to keep her spotless?"

She had thought the prison years had burned the emotion out of her, left her empty, beyond anger or grief.

But the words tore from her, sharp with pain.

Grayson looked startled, but only for an instant.

She stared at him, waiting for some explanation.

But all he said, with eyes turned away, was, "I didn’t see."

He was not skilled at lying. Yet for Yvonne, he lied smoothly, avoiding her gaze.

"You’ve already served two years. What meaning does dredging this up have? Let the past stay buried. The Shanks and Holmes families will make it up to you, protect you. You’ll serve the last year outside, just reporting in each month. Isn’t that enough?"

Ashley’s hands trembled where she hid them in her sleeves.

So that was it. Two years already gone, so she should just swallow it. Her suffering, her innocence, her ruined life—worth nothing.

If even Grayson thought this way, what hope was there with the rest of the family?

"Grayson, do you even know what it means to sit in prison?"

Her voice shook with fury. She turned to go.

He caught her again.

"Ashley, we can try again. Let’s have another child. You always said you wanted a daughter, didn’t you?"

She looked again at Grayson’s face, at the urgency flickering in his eyes.

How could it be?

Back when they were still husband and wife, he had been cold and distant in that regard. And now, after they had signed the divorce papers a year ago—her leaving with nothing, not asking for a single thing—why would he play this game with her?

He had loved Yvonne so deeply. When he received the signed papers, he must have been ecstatic, rushing to finalize their divorce. Surely he had rejoiced in being free.

But now, divorced, he was talking about having another child. A daughter.

She almost laughed. He should look at their son first.

Liam, the child she had poured her heart and body into raising, had eyes only for his father. Ever since that day two years ago, he had refused to call her “Mom.” He had begged instead for Yvonne—the mistress—to take that role.

"Grayson, you’re insane!" Ashley spat.

Without another word, she turned and left.

What she wanted most now was to see her mother and grandmother.

But when she returned home, she overheard Susan’s voice soothing Yvonne.

"Yvonne, be patient. It’s about the child’s life. Fate played a cruel trick, but what else can we do? You love Liam so much—surely you can’t…"

Before she could finish, a servant called out, "Madam is back?"

Susan and Yvonne turned sharply toward the door.

Susan flinched, eyes darting away guiltily under Ashley’s cold stare.

Morgan looked surprised. "Ashley, didn’t you go to the hotel with Grayson? Why are you back?"

"I came to get some things. I’m going to the hospital and the nursing home."

Yvonne walked over. Ashley noticed immediately that her eyes were red and moist—she had been crying. Yet she wore her usual calm, gentle mask. "Let me arrange for someone to accompany you."

Ashley brushed past her, brows tight. "No need."

Since when had this house been hers to arrange?

The movement had been slight, but Liam, coming down the stairs, saw it.

He rushed forward, spreading his arms wide to shield Yvonne.

Two years ago, when Ashley had wanted to hold him, he had hidden in Yvonne’s arms.

Now, thinking his mother might hurt Yvonne, he planted himself in front of her with all the courage his small body could muster.

As though Ashley was some kind of monster.

Ashley swore she could hear the sound of her own heart breaking.

Liam glared at her, voice sharp with fear. "Don’t hurt Aunt Yvonne! I hate you!"

Ashley stood stunned, unable to respond, while Yvonne caught Liam’s arm. "Liam, your mom didn’t hurt me. Apologize to her."

But Liam didn’t apologize. Instead, he touched Yvonne’s face with his small hand, murmuring, "Aunt Yvonne, you’re crying."

Then he spun around, shouting at Ashley. "If it wasn’t for making a new baby to get cord blood, Dad wouldn’t even care about you! Aunt Yvonne wouldn’t be sad either!"

The words fell like thunder. Yvonne, Susan, and her father and brothers all cried out together, "Liam—!"

Ashley froze, her whole body drenched in cold sweat.

Now she understood.

She finally understood.

She had once believed—foolishly—that Grayson’s silence had been guilt, that perhaps her imprisonment would make him regret. At first she had waited, thinking he would come to free her.

But the longer the months dragged, the colder her heart became.

And now, when she had finally been released, she had let herself hope again. Only to find—she was nothing more than a tool.

Grayson entered just then. Seeing the stricken faces, he reached for her gently.

"If you’re not ready, we can take our time," he soothed.

She tore her arm from his grip, turning to face him with an icy glare sharper than he had ever seen.

"Grayson, tell me—what do you need the cord blood for?"