Chapter 4: The Liar's Wife
1592 Words
"Sloane Vance? This is Miranda Thorne. Calder's fiancee. We need to talk about your employment at Thorne Holdings. And about the forty-three million dollars you tried to steal."
The line went dead.
I stood on the sidewalk in front of Thorne Tower with the phone still pressed to my ear. People pushed past me. Taxis honked. The city moved, but I did not.
Fiancee.
Calder Thorne had a fiancee.
Forty-three million dollars was in the hospital account. I was wearing his mark on my neck. I had been inside him twelve hours ago. And he had a fiancee.
My stomach tried to crawl up my throat. I checked my banking app with shaking hands. The wire was still there. Not recalled. Not frozen. $43,000,000.00. Available balance.
If he was engaged, why pay for Valery? Why touch me? Why make me think...
No. Stop. Think.
I called the number back. Voicemail. Generic. "You have reached Miranda Thorne. Leave a message."
I did not leave a message. I flagged a cab. "Mercy Ridge Hospital. Fast."
The ride took twenty minutes. It felt like twenty years. Every light was red. Every car was in my way. Was I the other woman? Was Valery's life bought with dirty money from a man who lied to both of us?
Dr. Chen met me at the nurses' station. "Sloane. We got the wire. Surgery is scheduled for 2 p.m. today."
Today. Not tomorrow. Today. Because Calder moved it up. Or his fiancee did.
"Dr. Chen," I said. My voice did not sound like mine. "Who authorized the payment?"
He frowned. "Mr. Thorne, of course. His foundation has been covering Valery's treatment for six months. Did you not know?"
The floor dropped out from under me.
"Six months?" I whispered. "That is not possible. Insurance denied her. We were on the waitlist. We—"
"Anonymous donor," he said. "Thorne Foundation. They stepped in when insurance called it experimental. Paid for everything. The room. The meds. The specialists. Calder said he wanted it quiet. He said you would not take charity."
I grabbed the counter. "He has been paying? For six months?"
"Yes. And he increased the funding last week. To cover the surgery, rehab, everything. He told me to call him if there were any issues. Any at all."
Six months. He knew. He paid. He watched me drown for six months while he held the life raft.
And last night... last night he made me beg for money he had already given.
I did not go to Valery's room. I could not. I would break. She would see it. She would ask. I could not lie to her.
I walked out of Mercy Ridge. Got another cab. "Thorne Holdings."
Security tried to stop me in the lobby. I did not stop. I took the executive elevator. My keycard still worked. Of course it did. He wanted me to come.
The boardroom doors were glass. I could see them. Calder at the head of the table. Twelve lawyers. And her.
Miranda Thorne.
Tall. Blonde. Ice queen in a black suit. She looked like the female version of Calder. Same gray eyes. Same cold mouth. Same way of looking at people like they were bugs.
I slammed the doors open. Everyone turned.
"Your fiancee?" I threw the words at Calder. My voice shook with rage. "You want to explain that to me?"
Silence. Then Miranda laughed. It was not nice. It was the sound of someone watching a rat in a maze.
"Sister," she said. "I am his sister, Miss Vance. Head of Legal for Thorne Holdings. And you failed my test."
My head snapped to Calder. He did not look surprised. He looked... tired.
"Test?" I said.
"You were ready to believe the worst of him," Miranda said. She stood up. Walked around the table toward me. "One phone call from a woman you never met, and you assumed he was cheating on you. After he was inside you twelve hours ago. That tells me everything I need to know about your loyalty."
Loyalty. She was testing my loyalty. To a man I had a s*x contract with.
"You recorded the call," I said to Calder. It was not a question. "You let her call me. You approved it."
He finally stood. "Get out. Everyone."
The lawyers did not argue. They filed out fast. Miranda went last. At the door she looked back at me. "He does not share, Miss Vance. Remember that."
The door clicked shut.
Now it was just me and Calder. And forty-three million dollars of rage.
"You think I am engaged?" His voice was low. Dangerous. "After I was inside you twelve hours ago? After I told you I have watched you for three years? You think I would touch another woman?"
"You lied," I said. "About everything. The money. The delay. Your sister. You let me think—"
He moved. Fast. One second he was across the room. The next his hand was around my wrist. He dragged me out of the boardroom, down the hall, into his office. He slammed the door. Locked it.
He threw me against it. His body caged mine. Not like last night. This was not seduction. This was fury.
"Say it," he said. His face was one inch from mine. "Say you thought I would share you. Say you thought I would let another woman have what is mine."
I could not breathe. He was everywhere. His anger. His scent. His body pressing into mine. "You let me believe it."
"Because you needed to learn." His hand went to my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. Claiming. "You do not trust me. After everything. After I paid for her. After I waited for you. You still think I am the villain."
"Are you not?" I pushed at his chest. He did not move. "You watched me suffer for six months. You let me steal. You let me offer my body. You could have just—"
"Just what?" He yelled it. Calder Thorne never yelled. "Write you a check? Like you are a charity case? You would have thrown it in my face, Sloane. You do not take help. You take control. So I gave you control. The contract was yours. The rules were yours."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
"Your sister called me your fiancee," I said. My voice broke. "She wanted me to feel like a whore."
"She wanted you to feel what I felt," he said. Quieter now. "When you walked out this morning. When you looked at me like I disgusted you. When you said it meant nothing."
It did not mean nothing. That was the problem.
"I did not—"
"You did." His thumb brushed the mark on my neck. The one he put there. "You tell me it is just a contract. But you stayed the night. You said my name. You broke Rule Number Four before I even touched you."
I closed my eyes. "Do not."
"Do not what?" His mouth was at my ear. "Do not tell the truth?"
His teeth grazed my earlobe. Then lower. To my neck. To the exact spot he marked last night.
He did not kiss my mouth. He kept Rule Number Two.
He broke it anyway.
His lips were hot. Open. Wet. On my neck. Sucking. Biting. Claiming. It was not a kiss on the mouth, but it was worse. It was intimate. It was his. It was mine.
I gasped. My hands fisted in his shirt. I did not push him away. I pulled him closer.
He groaned against my skin. "You hate me."
"I do."
"Good." He bit down, hard enough to mark me again. "Hate me while you come for me. Hate me while you are mine."
My knees gave out. He held me up. One hand under my thigh, hitching my leg around his hip. His body pressed into mine. I could feel him. Hard. Ready. Furious.
"Calder," I choked out.
"Say it again."
"Calder."
He moved against me. The door was cold at my back. He was fire at my front. We were both dressed. We were both seconds from breaking every rule left.
He pulled back. Looked at me. His eyes were black. Not gray. Black with want. With rage. With something else I did not want to name.
"You are mine, Sloane Vance," he said. "Fiancee or not. Contract or not. You are mine."
He let me go. Stepped back. Adjusted his pants. Like he had not just ruined me against his office door.
"Go to the hospital," he said. His voice was flat again. CEO. Controlled. "Be with your sister. The surgery is at two."
I could not move. My legs did not work. My body was screaming. My mind was worse.
He picked up his phone. Dialed. "Car for Miss Vance. Now."
He hung up. Looked at me. "Unless you want to finish what we started. Here. Now. Against this door."
I wanted to. God help me, I wanted to.
I pushed off the door. Fixed my blouse. My hands were shaking.
"No," I said. "Rule Number One. Never at the office."
He smiled. It was not nice. "We will see how long that rule lasts."
I walked out. Did not run. Walked. Head high. Legs liquid.
His driver was waiting downstairs.
As the car pulled away from Thorne Holdings, I touched my neck. Two marks now. His.
Rule Number Two was dead.
And I had killed it myself.
- Writer
