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Katherine did not cry when she walked into their immaculate suburban home. The silence of the empty house, which usually felt lonely on the nights Reginald claimed to be working late, now felt like a tactical advantage. / Chapter 7 / 31

Chapter 7 - The Mistress's PloyThe next morning, Katherine was sitting at a corner table in a high-end coffee shop across from the bank. She was officially on administrative leave, but she was entirely in control.

A woman slid into the booth across from her. Striking red hair. Expensive perfume. Chloe Vance.

"Reginald is a wreck," Chloe sneered, stirring her latte. "He said you went crazy. But I know what you're doing, Katherine. You're a bitter, aging housewife throwing a tantrum because your husband upgraded."

Katherine took a slow sip of her black tea, completely unfazed. "Did you come here to insult me, Chloe, or to beg for a deal?"

Chloe’s sneer faltered. "I have a team of corporate lawyers. You have a suspended bank ID. Reginald and I are moving the assets to a blind trust. You won't get a dime in the divorce. Back off, and we'll leave you the house."

Katherine laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound.

"You think this is about the divorce settlement?" Katherine reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was a printed wire receipt.

"I checked the Cayman trust registered in your name last night, Chloe," Katherine said softly. "The one Reginald promised to fund with the $4 million municipal wire."

Chloe’s eyes widened.

"The money isn't there," Katherine smiled. "When Reginald realized the feds were closing in, he tried to save himself. He initiated a secondary wire to an account in Switzerland. Under his name alone. He was going to leave you holding the bag for the entire Bracken Ridge fraud."

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The silence in the dining room felt heavier than the marble beneath my shoes. For twenty-five years, Victor Salvatore had been my shadow. When rival factions tried to poison my water supply in Naples back in '98, Victor caught it. When the tax authorities in Milan tried to freeze my accounts, Victor rerouted them. He was more than a chief of staff; he was the architect of my survival.

The silence in the dining room felt heavier than the marble beneath my s...

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing the phantom sensation of that tiny shift in my right shoe. Ninety-nine specialists had labeled my paralysis permanent—a psychological blockade fused with trauma after Audrey’s fatal car crash. Yet, here I was, staring at an eight-year-old girl who looked entirely unsurprised.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing...

The helicopter touched down on the private helipad atop the Moretti Grand Hotel just as the Chicago sun began to melt into Lake Michigan, staining the horizon the color of fresh blood.

The helicopter touched down on the private helipad atop the Moretti Gran...

Chloe snatched the paper. Her hands began to shake as she read Reginald’s signature, betraying her.

"He played you, Chloe," Katherine whispered. "Just like he played me. The difference is, I have immunity because I'm the whistleblower. You're the VP of Acquisitions. When the FBI kicks the door down in twenty minutes, who do you think is going to prison?"

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