Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Curtain
The next morning, I went home.
Not because Olivia wanted me to.
Because I wanted to see what Bradley would do when he thought I was still vulnerable.
He was waiting in the kitchen.
He looked exhausted.
For a moment, I almost remembered the man I married.
Then I remembered the pool.
“Where were you?”
I placed my purse on the counter.
“Getting dry.”
He sighed.
“Maddie, I was drunk.”
“You weren't drunk enough to forget.”
“I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“You didn't care if you did.”
His jaw tightened.
“You've been disrespecting my mother for months.”
“I disagreed with your mother.”
“You embarrassed her.”
“She embarrassed herself.”
He slammed his hand against the counter.
“See?”
I didn't flinch.
“You think you're better than everyone.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I think I'm finally better than the woman I used to be.”
He stared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I'm not apologizing anymore.”
He walked closer.
“We're married.”
“I know.”
“You can't just walk away.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You've been talking to someone.”
I smiled.
“My attorney.”
His face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
“Why?”
“Because I needed legal advice.”
“For what?”
I picked up my purse.
“Everything.”
He didn't move.
“Maddie.”
I walked toward the stairs.
He grabbed my arm.
I turned.
His fingers released me immediately.
Maybe he remembered the pool.
Maybe he remembered the cameras.
Maybe he was afraid I'd call the police.
Either way, he stepped back.
“I need you to understand something,” he said.
“What?”
“I love you.”
I stared at him.
The words sounded hollow.
“I don't believe you.”
He looked wounded.
But I didn't care.
I went upstairs.
Inside my home office, I opened the hidden compartment beneath my desk.
There was a small envelope.
Inside was a flash drive.
I had found it in Bradley's desk three weeks earlier.
I had not opened it.
Now I did.
There were dozens of documents.
Contracts.
Bank transfers.
Emails.
And photographs.
One photograph showed Bradley meeting Barbara at a restaurant.
Another showed him meeting Luke.
Then another showed a woman I didn't recognize.
I zoomed in.
My stomach dropped.
The woman was Elena Pierce.
The chief financial officer of my company.
The person who had worked beside me for six years.
I called Olivia.
“Elena is involved.”
“How sure are you?”
“I have photographs.”
“Send them.”
I did.
Five minutes later, Olivia called.
“You need to come to my office.”
“Why?”
“I found something.”
When I arrived, she placed a document on the table.
“Your company has been preparing for a hostile takeover.”
“By whom?”
She turned the page.
“Meridian Holdings.”
The same company that had received the money.
I stared.
“Who owns it?”
Olivia hesitated.
Then she said:
“Barbara Ashford.”
My blood ran cold.
“Bradley's mother?”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Barbara hadn't simply hated me.
She had been trying to take my company.
She had spent years convincing Bradley that he deserved control.
And Bradley had been stealing money to weaken my business before the takeover.
But there was more.
Olivia placed another file in front of me.
“Look.”
I read the shareholder agreement.
If my company lost enough liquidity, Meridian could legally purchase a controlling interest.
And the final trigger?
A divorce.
My divorce.
I looked up.
“They wanted me to leave.”
“Yes.”
“Then they take the company.”
“Yes.”
My hands trembled.
“How long?”
Olivia pointed to the bottom.
“Fifteen days.”
I stared.
“Fifteen?”
“In fifteen days, Meridian can trigger the acquisition.”
I laughed.
It was almost unbelievable.
My husband had pushed me into a pool tonight.
His family had laughed.
And all along, they had been counting down the days until they could steal everything I'd built.
I stood.
“Then we have fifteen days.”
“To do what?”
“To destroy their plan.”
Olivia smiled.
“Now you're thinking like a CEO.”
That evening, I returned home.
Bradley was gone.
Barbara called.
I answered.
Her voice was icy.
“Maddie.”
“Barbara.”
“We need to talk.”
“About the pool?”
“About your marriage.”
I smiled.
“Go ahead.”
“You've always been ambitious.”
“Thank you.”
“You've forgotten who helped you get where you are.”
“No.”
I looked at the documents on my desk.
“I remember exactly who helped me.”
She paused.
“You don't know what you're dealing with.”
“I think I do.”
Her voice changed.
“Then you're more foolish than I thought.”
The call ended.
Seconds later, my office computer turned on by itself.
A new email appeared.
No sender.
One sentence.
Ask your husband what happened to his first wife.
I stared at the screen.
Bradley had never mentioned a first wife.
May you like
Not once.
And suddenly, I realized I knew almost nothing about the man I had married.
