Chapter 8 - THE OTHER WIFE’S SHOCKThe front door of the mansion opened before I even reached the top of the stone steps.
Standing in the entryway was a woman in her early thirties with sleek dark hair, wearing an expensive cashmere sweater and designer jeans. Her face was pale, and her eyes—sharp and instantly defensive—swept over my winter gear, finally landing on the baby strapped against my chest.
“Who the hell are you?” Elena demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, though I could see a slight tremor in her fingers. “And what did you just say over the intercom?”
“My name is Rachel Sterling,” I said, stepping past her uninvited into the warm, cavernous foyer before she could block the doorway. “And I’m the woman Mason tried to murder six weeks ago after he realized he couldn't keep his double life hidden from us any longer.”
Elena stumbled back a step, her jaw dropping. “Mason... tried to murder you? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, Elena,” I retorted, pulling a stack of printed financial documents and legal files out of my tote bag and tossing them onto the polished marble entryway table. “I know all about Apex Horizon LLC. I know about the wire transfers, the offshore accounts, and the fact that you’ve been living high on the hog in this three-million-dollar mansion using the money Mason embezzled from my family and Whitmore Enterprises.”
Elena stared at the documents, her face draining of all color. She didn't look like a smug mistress living a life of luxury; she looked like a woman who had just realized she was chained to the deck of a sinking ship.
“I didn't know about any embezzlement,” Elena whispered, her voice cracking as she backed away toward the living room. “He... he told me he inherited money from a tech startup buyout. He told me he traveled for business because he was expanding his software firm.”
“He lied to you, too,” I said, softening my tone just a fraction, not out of pity, but out of a shared, bitter understanding of the monster we had both trusted. “Mason doesn't love anyone, Elena. He loves power, status, and money. And right now? He’s sitting in a maximum-security holding cell facing twenty years in prison for grand larceny, embezzlement, and attempted manslaughter.”
Elena gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She collapsed onto a nearby velvet sofa, staring blankly at the Persian rug. “In jail? No... that’s impossible. He called me yesterday morning. He said he was at a corporate retreat in the mountains.”
“Yesterday morning, he was standing in handcuffs at his own wedding after trying to marry a billionaire’s daughter,” I said ruthlessly, letting the truth hit her like cold water. “And the authorities are currently seizing every single asset tied to his name. Which means this house, your cars, your bank accounts—they’re all about to be frozen by the federal government and Arthur Whitmore’s legal team.”
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Elena looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes, mixed with a sudden, rising panic. “If they freeze everything... I have nothing. I gave up my career for him. I trusted him.”
“So did I,” I said quietly. “Which is why you and I are going to make a deal.”
