Chapter 4

She had access to my cards. My accounts. All of it, just like that.

And there was no way that happened without Fergus behind it.

No way.

When I woke up, Fergus still hadn't appeared.

But my attorney was waiting at my bedside, ready to brief me.

"CEO Henson has taken his secretary to an off-site meeting. He says he won't be back until tomorrow."

He studied my expression carefully before continuing:

"I checked the attendance logs from the past two weeks. The two of them have been leaving together for 'meetings' constantly... but the destinations—"

He handed me a printout. Every single destination listed on those so-called business trips was nowhere near any of our partner companies. They were all resort towns. Vacation hotspots.

"I also spoke with some employees at the company. They said Belinda Swanson's Instagram is full of screenshots from these trips with CEO Henson... Would you like to see?"

He held out his phone. The screen was filled with screenshot after screenshot.

Every one was a carefully staged collage Belinda had posted.

The captions read things like:

"Thanks to CEO Henson for driving me home tonight! This is our special time for two."

"I complained about working overtime and a certain someone sent me a little 'bonus'... the Hermès bag I've had my eye on forever!"

"I mentioned wanting to see the Eiffel Tower, and he flew me there that same night. If this isn't love, what is?"

The attorney went on:

"We looked into Belinda Swanson's college history and discovered she had a financial sponsor during her university years. That sponsor was Mr. Henson."

"Her college roommate told us Belinda used to brag about having a wealthy older benefactor. That person was Mr. Henson."

Hearing it confirmed with my own ears that Fergus had betrayed me long ago—

It cut straight through me.

The attorney placed a folder in my hands and said quietly:

"There's also... we found this. I think you should see it."

I opened the folder. One glance, and my legs buckled. I barely caught myself from falling.

I gripped the folder, my voice shaking:

"Take me home first. I need... I need a moment."

But when I walked through the front door, strangers were moving through my home. Cases of jewelry were being carried out of the bedroom—my bridal jewelry, the pieces my parents had spent twenty years collecting for me, every priceless heirloom, hauled out and shoved into a safe right in front of me.

I rushed over and grabbed the movers:

"What do you think you're doing? Put my things down!"

They shook my hands off without a flicker of expression, loading item after item into the safe. Then one of them turned to me and said:

"From now on, your jewelry, accessories, handbags, and gowns are all under Ms. Swanson's control. If you want to use any of them, you write a five-thousand-word request and submit it through the internal approval portal. Ms. Swanson approves it, you get your things. She doesn't, you don't."

I was shaking so hard I couldn't stop. I pulled out my phone and called Fergus.

Belinda answered. Her voice was bright, almost amused:

"Wow, one day and you're already well enough to come crawling to him? I knew it—you were faking the whole thing just to squeeze out more money!"

"And all that nonsense about going into labor soon. Your due date isn't until next week!"

"Oh, right—Mamie! I almost forgot. Since your due date is next Wednesday, I'll only cover the medical expenses if you deliver on that exact day. Baby comes any other day? That's on your own dime."

I held everything in, every ounce of fury pressed down tight:

"Belinda Swanson! Who gave you permission to touch my jewelry? Tell your people to return my things right now, or I'm calling the police and reporting you for theft!"