Married To My Husband’s Rival

CHAPTER 14: The Voicemail

WREN POV

“Listen to this”

I held the phone out to Seth the second he opened his office door.

He looked at me. Then at the phone. Then he stepped back and let me in.

I pressed play and set it on the desk between us.

Ingrid’s voice filled the room. Cool. Practiced. Every word placed carefully like she had rehearsed it three times before hitting record.

Seth stood with his arms crossed and his eyes on the phone and he did not move. Not once. Not even when she said his name.

When it ended he was quiet.

I watched his face. Really watched it.

It was not fear. It was something else. Like a man who had been waiting for something bad to happen and just heard the knock at the door.

“What does she have on you?” I asked.

He sat down slowly. “I don’t know exactly.”

“But you know the shape of it.”

He looked at me. “Yes.”

“Then tell me the shape.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he said “When I was building Maren Capital in the early years I had very little time and even less resources. There were decisions I made fast. Some of those decisions do not look clean on paper.”

“Clean meaning what?”

“Meaning if someone read the paperwork without context they could frame it badly.”

“Were they illegal?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I crossed my arms. “Could any of it hurt the acquisition?”

He paused.

That pause told me everything.

“If it was framed the wrong way,” he said. “Possibly yes.”

I picked the phone up off his desk. Looked at the unknown number still sitting on the screen.

“Should I meet her?” I asked.

“Absolutely not.”

I looked at him. “That’s not actually your call.”

He looked back at me. Something moved in his jaw.

“Wren.”

“Seth.”

“She called you directly. On a private number. That means she already has more access than she should. If you meet her you give her more.”

“Or I find out what she knows before she decides to use it.”

“That’s not how Ingrid works. She doesn’t give information. She trades it.”

“Then maybe I have something to trade.”

He went quiet.

I didn’t agree to meet her. But I did not agree to stay away either. I saved the number. Right there in front of him. He watched me do it and said nothing.

Good.

We stayed like that for a second. The office was warm and the lamp was still on and outside the city was doing its late night thing.

Then Cal knocked twice and pushed the door open.

“Update,” he said and came in with his folder.

He sat down without being asked. That was a Cal thing. He never waited for permission when he had something.

“The asset disclosure request went through this afternoon,” he said. “Owen’s team is rattled.”

I sat up straighter. “How rattled?”

“Two Briggs Group board members made informal contact with Seth’s office in the last three hours.”

Seth leaned forward. “Which two?”

Cal named them.

Seth’s expression shifted. I could see him recalculating something behind his eyes.

“They’re already picking sides,” I said.

“They’re already checking which side is safer,” Cal said. “There’s a difference. But yes. The request moved things faster than expected.”

I felt something sharp and satisfying move through my chest. Good. Let them scramble.

“Keep the pressure on,” I said.

Cal nodded and closed the folder. He stood up. Then his phone buzzed and he looked at it and his face did a thing.

“What?” I said.

“The lobby just called up,” Cal said. He looked at me carefully. “Owen Briggs is downstairs.”

The kitchen went very quiet.

Not upstairs. Just the lobby. Asking the doorman to let me know he was there.

I stared at the counter. My fingers were flat on the cold marble and I could feel my own heartbeat in my throat.

Owen. Here.

What was he thinking? What did he want? Five minutes. The doorman said he wanted five minutes.

Five minutes for what Owen? To explain? To apologize? To look me in the face and say the word amicable one more time?

“Wren,” Cal said quietly.

“Send him away,” I said.

Cal nodded and reached for his radio.

“Wait.”

Cal stopped.

I don’t know why I said it. I genuinely do not know.

But something in me needed to look at him. Not because I missed him. Not because it hurt less now. But because I was not the woman who stood at that stage anymore and I think I needed Owen to see that with his own eyes.

“Tell him I’ll give him ten minutes,” I said. “Tomorrow. Public place. My choice of where.”

Cal looked at me. “You’re sure?”

“No,” I said. “But tell him anyway.”

Cal stepped out to make the call.

I stood at the counter and stared at nothing.

Seth was in the doorway behind me. I could feel him there. He didn’t say anything and I was glad because if he had said anything right now I would have snapped.

This was not his call either.

This was mine.

Owen was downstairs in a building that was not his, asking for time I did not owe him, and I just said yes to ten minutes because I was done being the person things happened to.

Tomorrow I would look him in the face.

In public. On my terms.

And he would see exactly who walked out of that gala.

Cal came back in. “He said yes. He’ll be wherever you say.”

“Good,” I said.

I picked up my phone off the counter and walked toward my room.

June’s light was still off. The penthouse was quiet.

I sat on my bed and looked at the saved number in my phone.

Ingrid Vael.

Then I looked at the message from Tasha that still had no reply under it. Just that read receipt sitting there like a small ugly fact.

Then I thought about Owen downstairs in that lobby. Hat in hand. Waiting.

Eight days ago I was clapping for him.

Eight days.

I put the phone down and lay back and looked at the ceiling.

Tomorrow was going to be a lot.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​