Part 2: My Husband's Mistress Threw Boiling Oil on My Back While I Was Eight Months Pregnant. "He Told Me You'd Be Home Alone," She Screamed Before Running Away. I Shielded My Unborn Daughter and Was Rushed to the ER. But When the Doctor Saw My Face, He Froze. He Recognized Me as the Heiress of the Hospital Empire I'd Abandoned Five Years Earlier—and Immediately Called Someone…

The visiting room at the Cumberland County Women's Correctional Facility smelled of floor wax, industrial bleach, and stale despair.

Chloe Vance sat on the other side of the scratched polycarbonate partition. Her platinum-blonde hair, usually styled in pristine beach waves, hung limp and greasy around her hollow cheeks. The bright orange jumpsuit swamped her petite frame. When the steel security door clicked shut and I sat down opposite her, her bloodshot eyes widened with visceral terror.

Julian Vance pulled a leather chair beside me, setting a digital recorder on the small metal shelf.

"You look terrible, Chloe," I said smoothly, picking up the heavy plastic telephone receiver attached to the partition.

Chloe's trembling hand rose to her receiver. When she pressed it to her ear, her voice came out as a ragged sob. "You... you shouldn't be here. You're supposed to be in the ICU. The news said your back—"

"My back is burned, yes," I cut in, my tone flat and clinical. "Second- and third-degree thermal injuries across thirty percent of my body. The surgeons spent three hours scraping dead tissue off my shoulders yesterday morning. But my hands work just fine. And my daughter is sleeping peacefully in a neonatal suite equipped with armed guards."

Chloe began to cry, fat tears rolling down her smudged makeup. "I didn't want to hurt the baby! He told me... Daniel told me you took the pills! He said you were terminating the pregnancy anyway, that you were just pretending to keep it to trap him! He told me you were abusive, Sarah! He said you controlled his finances, that you wouldn't give him a divorce!"

Julian chuckled softly beside me—a dry, razor-sharp sound. "Ms. Vance, did Daniel also tell you about his travel arrangements?"

Chloe blinked, sniffling. "What travel arrangements? We were going to Cabo after the insurance settlement went through. We picked out the villa together online."

Julian pulled an 8x10 glossy printout from his briefcase and pressed it flat against the reinforced glass.

It was an electronic ticket confirmation from American Airlines, booked under the name Daniel Reeves. Departure date: three days from today. Route: Philadelphia to Miami, connecting directly to Belize City.

"Look at the passenger list, Chloe," Julian said, his voice dripping with condescension. "One ticket. One seat. First class. And look at the date of purchase: six weeks ago. Long before he handed you that pot of boiling peanut oil."

Chloe stared at the paper, her pupils dilating into pinpricks. "No... no, that's impossible. He promised me. He said we were starting a family of our own. He told me he loved me!"

"Daniel Reeves loves one person: himself," I said, leaning toward the glass so she could see the raw burns creeping up the side of my collarbone beneath my silk blouse. "He bought you that townhome in Rittenhouse with my money. And tomorrow morning, my lawyers are evicting your mother from it. We are seizing your car, freezing your personal checking account, and naming you as a co-conspirator in a five-million-dollar federal wire fraud scheme."

"Please!" Chloe shrieked, slamming both palms against the partition, causing the guard by the door to rest his hand on his baton. "I don't have anything! I was bankrupt! He told me this was our only way out! He bought the oil, Sarah! He boiled it on the burner in his consultancy office and poured it into that thermal jug! He handed it to me in the car and said, 'If you love me, you’ll take care of her so we can be free'!"

"Then you had better start singing," Julian said, tapping the digital voice recorder. "The District Attorney is offering a plea deal. Attempted murder carrying twenty-five to life, or full cooperation, a sworn deposition detailing Daniel's premeditation, and testimony at his trial in exchange for second-degree conspiracy."

Chloe looked between Julian's merciless eyes and my cold, unblinking stare. She realized, in that single, crushing moment, that she was nothing more than the disposable pawn Daniel had designed her to be.

"Give me the paper," she whispered, her voice cracking into absolute surrender. "I kept the texts. I have his voice memos from the night before. I backed them up on an encrypted cloud drive... because I was scared."

A faint smile touched the corner of my lips. "Good girl, Chloe. Give my lawyers everything. And maybe, in twenty years, you'll see daylight again."