Chapter 9

"Wait a damn minute—you two know each other?" The guy next to me practically shouted, pointing between Daniel and Victoria Evans. "You both swore you'd never met!"

His accusation sent shockwaves through the room. Every head swiveled toward the pair, hungry for answers about Victoria's true identity.

"Kill the feed! Shut it down now!"

Daniel and Victoria erupted into panic. Daniel looked ready to vault onto the stage and smash the projector himself.

Too late. The screen lit up with their incriminating conversation from the women's restroom. As Daniel's own words boomed through the speakers, the crowd exploded.

The room went electric. Dozens of furious faces turned toward Daniel while others started hurling insults at Victoria.

"Daniel Evans—consider this your official termination for gross misconduct."

His CEO stormed in flanked by security, slamming the paperwork on the nearest table.

Then came the knockout punch.

"Victoria Evans—you're fired."

I nearly choked when our company chairman, William Richter himself, materialized to deliver the blow.

Daniel snapped. His face twisted into something unrecognizable as the realization hit him—this was my doing. He wheeled on me with murder in his eyes.

"Emily Laurent, I'll fucking kill you! This is all your—"

Olivia Macmillan moved like lightning. She had him face-down on the floor before he finished the sentence.

Chaos erupted as police swarmed in—someone must've called them earlier. They cuffed Daniel for corporate fraud and attempted murder.

The truth came out later: Victoria wasn't just Daniel's colleague. She was his ex-wife. Years of marriage, no kids—because Victoria couldn't conceive.

So they'd cooked up this sick plan: divorce, have Daniel marry some naive woman (me), knock her up, then ditch her to play happy family with Victoria.

The second Daniel got hauled away, I filed for divorce. The judge stamped those papers so fast they practically caught fire.

On my way out of the courthouse, Olivia pulled up in a sleek black car. "Mr. Roscente wants to see you."

My brain short-circuited when I recognized him—the impossibly handsome security guard from Daniel's company.

Alexander Roscente stepped forward in a tailored gray suit, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Let's try this again. Alexander Roscente."

My mouth fell open. "But you—the uniform—"

"Mr. Roscente does quarterly undercover work," Olivia explained, barely containing her grin. "Even as a security guard."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I'd pestered this man for help like he was some random employee. Yet he'd listened with endless patience—enough to remember me.

Turns out, after learning I was married, Alexander kept tabs on me. When he discovered Daniel's double life, he dug deeper. The more he uncovered, the more determined he became to expose the truth.

By the time he finished explaining, tears blurred my vision.