My Husband Stabbed Me Twice for the Woman He Never Got Over—Three Days Later, My Doctor Showed Him Our Twins

Sloane Mercer sat in Interrogation Room B. Her designer suit was gone, replaced by a gray detention jumpsuit. Her pristine blonde hair was tangled, and the manicured fingernails she had used to scratch her own arm were raw and bitten down to the quick.

Across the stainless-steel table sat Detective Walsh and Assistant District Attorney Marcus Cole.

"We have your phone, Sloane," Detective Cole said, tossing a thick folder onto the table. "We have the cell tower pings. We have the encrypted text logs from the Signal app that you thought were deleted. We recovered all of them from the cloud server."

Sloane stared at the table, her jaw set. "I want my lawyer."

"Your lawyer, Mr. Vance, resigned thirty minutes ago when the federal prosecutors stepped in," Detective Walsh said, leaning forward. "You're facing attempted first-degree murder, conspiracy to commit murder, insurance fraud, and falsifying a police report. If Mara Whitmore’s condition deteriorates and she dies, that charge becomes capital murder. In Tennessee, that carries the death penalty."

Sloane’s chest heaved. "I didn't stab her! Reid stabbed her!"

"Reid held the knife, yes," Detective Cole admitted. "And Reid is currently being held in Cellblock C on $5 million bond for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. But you provided the weapon's motivation. You fabricated an assault, breached a private residence, and directed the scene. And most importantly... you called Evelyn Whitmore while Mara was bleeding out."

Detective Walsh pressed a button on her laptop. The audio played through the room’s speakers, crisp and terrifyingly clear.

Sloane’s voice: "She’s losing a lot of blood. The babies won’t be a problem now." Evelyn’s voice (over speakerphone): "Is the recorder off?" Sloane’s voice: "Yes. She’s unconscious. Reid is in the kitchen getting towels like an idiot." Evelyn’s voice: "Good. Kessler is waiting at the ER. Make sure the paramedics take her to St. Jude’s, not the General Hospital. Once she’s on Kessler’s table, he’ll administer the potassium bolus during the blood transfusion. It will look like cardiac arrest due to hypovolemic shock. Reid will inherit her financial trust, and you will get your 10% cut."

The silence in the interrogation room after the recording ended was suffocating.

Sloane’s hands began to shake violently. "She... Evelyn promised me..."

"Evelyn promised you a ten percent cut of Mara’s estate?" Detective Walsh asked, her eyes narrowing. "Why would Mara—a former financial analyst—have an estate worth enough money for Evelyn Whitmore to orchestrate a murder?"

Sloane buried her face in her hands and began to sob hysterically. "You don't understand... Reid doesn't own Whitmore Real Estate! None of them do!"

Detective Cole swapped glances with Detective Walsh. "Explain."

Sloane pulled her hands away, her eyes bloodshot and wild. "Three years ago, before Reid met Mara, Whitmore Commercial Real Estate was bankrupt. Evelyn had embezzled $40 million from the corporate pension fund to pay off her gambling debts in Macau. They were weeks away from federal indictment!"

"Where did the bailout money come from?" Detective Walsh asked.

"Julian Thorne," Sloane whispered.

The name hung in the air like a ghost.

"Julian Thorne was Mara's biological father," Sloane continued, her voice cracking. "He died four years ago. He left a $120 million irrevocable trust for Mara. But there was a clause in the trust: Mara couldn't touch the principal until she turned thirty, OR until she produced an heir to the Thorne family bloodline."

Detective Walsh gasped faintly as the pieces fell into place with terrifying precision.

"Evelyn found out about the trust," Sloane spilled, desperate to trade information for a plea deal. "She forced Reid to pursue Mara, to romance her, to marry her! The goal was always to get Mara pregnant, control the trust through the children, and then quietly eliminate Mara so Reid and Evelyn would inherit everything!"

"And what changed?" Detective Cole asked.

"Mara didn't get pregnant for three years!" Sloane screamed. "Evelyn was losing her mind! The federal auditors were closing in on the company! So Evelyn brought me in to push Mara out, to make Reid hate her, to stage a divorce so they could sue her for breach of prenuptial agreement! But then... three weeks ago, Mara went to the private clinic."

"She got pregnant with twins," Detective Walsh said low.

"Yes!" Sloane cried. "And when Evelyn found out that Mara was pregnant, she realized that if Mara had those babies and filed for divorce, the Thorne trust would be locked forever under Mara's control as guardian of the children! Evelyn and Reid wouldn't get a single penny! The entire Whitmore empire would collapse, and Evelyn would go to federal prison for embezzlement!"

"So Evelyn decided to kill the babies," Detective Cole said, his voice dripping with disgust. "And kill Mara."

"It was Evelyn's idea!" Sloane shrieked, pressing her hands against the steel table. "She paid Dr. Kessler $500,000! She told me to cut my arm, go to the house, provoke Reid, and make Mara look insane! I didn't know Reid was going to stab her! I swear I didn't know he'd use a knife!"

"But when he did," Detective Walsh said, her eyes ice cold, "you didn't call an ambulance. You stood over a dying mother carrying twins, and you laughed."