Chapter 1
I'd custom-ordered a Porsche sports car for my husband, Arthur Redmond.
On our third wedding anniversary, I headed to the dealership to pick it up.
The salesperson teased me with a grin. "Mrs. Redmond, you and your husband are such a sweet couple! You even ordered matching custom couple's sports cars. He just came by to pick up a pink one earlier."
I thought to myself how in sync Arthur and I were, we'd even come up with the same anniversary gift idea without even planning it. But the next second, I scrolled through my social media feed and stumbled on a post from his female assistant, showing off that exact pink Porsche sports car.
The caption read:
He said he's handing me the steering wheel for the rest of our lives
That can't be a coincidence. I fired off a message to Arthur.
Me: Where are you?
He didn't reply.
It wasn't until 10 p.m. that he finally texted back, saying he was away on a business trip.
I called him right away, ready to ask if he even remembered it was our third wedding anniversary, but the person who picked up was a strange woman.
"Hello? Who is this? Calling in the middle of the night—seriously, how annoying is that?"
In the background, I could faintly hear the hiss of a running shower. Then a voice I knew all too well called out.
"Babe, who's that?"
I gave myself three whole seconds to process what I'd just heard, then let out a dry, bitter chuckle as I said, "Tell Arthur that his wife called. The one he left at home."
I hung up right after that, without skipping a beat, and immediately dialed my lawyer's number.
"Draw up a divorce agreement immediately."
*****
The next day, I arrived at the company and went on with my plan.
First order of business? I sent a message and notified HR.
Me: Fire Arthur Redmond and Lorelei Westcott effective immediately.
Second, I headed up to the president's office, summoned my secretary and said, "Freeze every single asset under Arthur's name, then send me a full report on the company's operations over the past six months."
I spent the entire morning poring over those reports, catching up on everything I'd missed while I was away.
At lunchtime, I turned on my phone, which I'd had on silent all morning, and was immediately flooded with 99+ missed calls and 99+ unread social media messages.
Aside from the draft divorce agreement and confirmation messages from my lawyer, every single one of those notifications was from Arthur.
I didn't bother opening any of them. I'd just popped open my lunch box when my phone started buzzing again.
The second I picked up, Arthur's enraged roar blasted through the speaker.
"Estelle! What the hell do you mean by freezing my cards? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was just now, sitting at dinner with clients and having no money to pay the bill?"
I held the phone away from my ear, waiting for him to finish screaming himself hoarse, before I finally pressed it back to the side of my face. The more furious and flustered he got, the calmer I felt.
When I spoke, my voice carried the quiet, unshakable authority of someone who was fully in control. "Who the hell do you think you're yelling at, Arthur?"
Arthur froze for a good few seconds. When he snapped back to his senses, he softened his tone immediately. "Estelle, I'm sorry, I flew off the handle just now. I just wanted to ask why you suddenly froze my cards."
I kept eating my lunch calmly, cutting straight to the chase. "Where did that two-million-dollar large transfer from your account go?"
"That's an advance payment for a client contract." The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "Now that you know, can you unfreeze my cards first? I need to take the client out tonight to apologize for the mess at lunch today."
I gave a cold, empty smile that never reached my eyes. "Oh? What kind of client has an advance payment that shows up as a luxury car dealership transaction on the bank statement? And what client requires you to apologize in a couples' restaurant and a couples' hotel suite?"
Caught red-handed, Arthur flew into a rage out of humiliation.
"Estelle! You've been spying on me! You never trusted me at all!" he fumed.
"My trust doesn't depend on what you say. It depends on what you do." My tone was cool and unruffled. "Arthur, are you guilty of something?"
"No, baby, I didn't—"
I couldn't be bothered to listen to another word. I hung up the call straight away.
Turns out Arthur didn't waste any time coming back. He showed up at 10 a.m. the next day.
He and Lorelei headed straight for the company.
Every time he tried to scan his face at the access control system, it flashed a recognition failed alert, and the alarm blared to life.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
