Chapter 6 - The Ultimate Hook (The Twist)
Six Months Later.
I sat in my corner office overlooking the Manhattan skyline. The VP plaque on my desk gleamed in the morning sun. The divorce had been finalized rapidly; Landon had no money to fight me, and the post-nup was ironclad. Last I heard, he was living on a friend’s couch in New Jersey, working night shifts at a fulfillment center.
My intercom buzzed. "Ms. Hayes? Your 10:00 AM appointment is here."
"Send her in," I said.
The heavy glass door opened.
In walked Belle.
She wasn't wearing a designer dress this time. She wore a sharp, professional pantsuit. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun. She didn't look like a naive, greedy sugar baby. She looked like a professional.
Because she was.
She walked up to my desk and extended her hand. "Karen. It’s so good to see you again."
I shook her hand, gesturing to the chair opposite me. "Have a seat, Isabelle. How is the private investigation business treating you?"
Isabelle—"Belle"—smiled, pulling a small flash drive from her pocket and placing it on my desk. "Booming, thanks to you. This is the final audio recording from Landon's eviction night, as requested for your personal archives."
I leaned back in my leather chair, sipping my coffee.
Nobody knew the truth. Not my parents, not the lawyers, not the police.
I hadn't just discovered Landon’s affair. I had orchestrated it.
I knew about the post-nuptial agreement, but I also knew Landon was too cowardly to actually cheat on me in a way that I could cleanly document. He was a leech, comfortable in his routine. If I had just divorced him normally, it would have taken years of litigation, and judges in New York are notoriously sympathetic to lower-earning spouses. He would have drained my accounts in legal fees alone.
I needed an infidelity clause trigger. I needed it fast, and I needed it undeniable.
So, nine months ago, I hired Isabelle’s high-end PI firm. Isabelle's specialty was "honey-trapping." She bumped into Landon at a bar he frequented on my dime. She played the naive, impressed girl perfectly. She fed his ego, demanded expensive gifts, and manipulated him into leaving a paper trail so wide a blind man could follow it.
The $3,000 monthly allowance? I wasn't bleeding out. I was investing in my own freedom. Every dollar Landon spent on Isabelle went directly into her agency's corporate account, paying her retainer.
"He really bought the whole thing," Isabelle chuckled, crossing her legs. "He actually told me he was the shadow CEO of your company. The hardest part of the job was trying not to laugh."
"You earned every penny of your fee, Isabelle," I said, sliding an envelope across the desk. It contained a very generous bonus. "Your performance at the dinner party was Oscar-worthy."
"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," she winked, slipping the envelope into her briefcase. "Let me know if you ever need anyone else financially ruined."
"I think I'm done with men for a while," I laughed.
Isabelle left my office, the glass door clicking shut behind her.
I stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked out over the city. Below me, millions of people were rushing to work, fighting their own battles, carrying their own secrets.
My phone buzzed on the desk. A blocked number.
I let it go to voicemail. A minute later, a transcribed message popped up on my screen.
“Karen, it’s Landon. Please. I haven't eaten in two days. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Can you just wire me fifty bucks? Just fifty. Please.”
May you like
I looked at the message for a long time.
Then, I pressed Delete, blocked the number, and went back to work.
