They Plot Against Me, I Ruined Them

Chapter 4

That is so unhinged.

Making your own wife raise your mistress on the side? What kind of twisted logic even goes into that?

I can only imagine how lovey-dovey those two got in my bed when I was out of the house.

I covered their food, their rent, her medical bills, her tuition, and even gave them spending money on top of all that.

I've been played for a total fool.

'Von, you good-for-nothing. If you'd put even a sliver of that conniving brainpower into doing something legitimate, you never would've ended up with nothing but a crummy community college diploma.'

"Alright, I'm heading out." I grabbed my bag, in a surprisingly good mood.

My secretary stared at me with a face full of worry.

For a second I wondered if she was the one who got cheated on, not me. She looked that worried.

Like it's even that big of a deal.

My driver was already waiting downstairs. Today, he'd pulled out the Gallardo I bought back when I was younger.

"Swap this out for the Bentley Bentayga for tomorrow's event. This one's way too flashy," I told him.

Before we even pulled into the neighborhood, I spotted Von and Noemie lingering by the entrance, waiting for me.

"Don't stop. Keep driving."

The car sped past them in a blur. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I watched those two losers sprinting after us, bawling their eyes out, snot and tears streaming down their faces like they're the victims here.

Noemie's pretty, and I own stakes in several major media companies, so I have plenty of connections in the industry. That's why I pulled strings to get her into acting classes a while back.

Turns out that was totally unnecessary. She's a natural-born actress already.

They still had no clue I knew the whole truth. I'd bet good money they'd rehearsed their little excuse a hundred times already.

Sure enough, Von's eyes were all red and puffy. He bit his lip, putting on his best apologetic act.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't think about where we were. Noemie was just practicing an assignment for her acting class. It's my fault I didn't notice someone was taking photos."

Real smooth, deflecting blame like that.

I rolled my eyes inwardly, but put on a perfectly gentle, unruffled expression as I spoke, "Noemie, this incident has caused a lot of blowback for me. You're not a kid anymore. You know I'm a public figure, so you need to be more careful about how you act in public.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, but right now no one's gonna buy our side of the story. What do you think we should do?"

I'd settle scores later, slowly and properly. There was a critical press conference coming up tomorrow, so I couldn't afford to back a desperate rat into a corner right now. If they flew off the handle and made a scene, I'd have way too much to lose.

Never pick a fight with people who have nothing to lose. They don't care what burns down in the process.

Noemie had always been sickly and painfully thin. She blinked those big deer-like eyes, her long lashes fluttering with fat tears still clinging to them.

She couldn't squeeze out a single word for ages, just twisted the hem of her shirt in a white-knuckled grip.

God, no wonder I fell for her act before.

This innocent little waif in a plain t-shirt and jeans looked nothing like the bold, seductive vixen in that video. Not even close.

If I hadn't found out what she's really like by chance, I would've fully bought her little lie about practicing for an acting class exercise.

After a long, awkward pause, she timidly pulled the iconic Dior shopping bag from behind her back, the very same one from that viral street shot, and fished out a pink Lady Dior bag.

"Mom, actually, we went out to get you a present... Dad said today's your first wedding anniversary. I picked this out specially for you."

"Ugh, I never wanted any of this to happen." I sobbed.

Hearing her call me "Mom" and him "Dad" right to my face made my skin crawl.

She calls him "Daddy" in bed, then calls him "Dad" out in the open, right in front of me like it's totally normal...

This bag wasn't even worth a fraction of the change I'd drop on any of my other bags.

I keep a low profile day to day, but I've spent several tens of millions on Hermès pre-spend requirements alone. I could buy way nicer stuff than this whenever I want. And that sickly sweet pink? We both know you picked this out for yourself, don't we?

I took the bag graciously, then pulled out a high-limit credit card.

"Things are pretty heated right now. You two should go abroad and lay low for a while."

I caught the flicker of a grin tugging at Von's lips, but it was gone in a flash.

That tiny smirk vanished, replaced by a sickeningly sappy, wide-eyed devoted look.

"Honey, but… I want to stay here and ride out this crisis with you."

I don't mind actual bad guys. Scummy, two-faced weasels who pretend to be saints? Those make my skin crawl.

'Go on, Von. Ham it up all you want. Once tomorrow's over, you won't get to put on this little act ever again.'

"It's fine," I said softly, "I'll be waiting for you to get back."

I arranged for a private jet, booked a luxury resort, and shipped the two of them off to Monaco.

Right before they walked out the door, I gave them a sweet, gentle smile.

"Take good care of our girl, okay? Make sure you're back by Sunday for her dialysis appointment."

The two of them put on a whole dramatic "we hate to leave you" show as they said goodbye.

Not even five minutes later, I stood on the second-floor balcony and watched them snickering like giddy idiots as they hurried away.

My fingers brushed idly over the bright red rosebush potted on the balcony railing.

Next second, I curled my fingers around a stem and squeezed lightly. It broke clean in two.

Houseplants are really no match for the ones out in public flower beds that get rained on and baked by the sun every day. So damn fragile.

I tossed the broken stem over the railing. Petals scattered everywhere as it fell.

'Enjoy your last little vacation, you sickly little weakling.'

"Ms. Jordan, we finished digging into the photographer," my subordinate reported. "He works for Mr. Owens' company. But… he quit the same day that video got posted."

Figures. He's probably already halfway across the country with a fat stack of hush money. Everyone who knows me knows Lia doesn't let slights slide. I'm not the kind of person you mess with and get away with it.

As for the guy who paid him off? That would be that deadbeat ex of mine, Von, who's obsessed with boozing, gambling, and sleeping around.

Right now, he's probably tangled up in bed with some girl, too busy having the time of his life to notice the noose tightening around his neck.

Oh, and that girl with him right now? I hired her.

'Don't wear yourself out tonight, Mr. Timmy Mercer. Tomorrow's the big press conference. Be sure to show up on time, won't you?'

I slathered on a thick layer of sleeping mask and drifted off to sleep perfectly content.

'See you tomorrow, old friend.'