Chapter 3

I walked into the Vanguard Corp boardroom at exactly nine a. m.

I hadn't slept. But concealer was a miracle worker. My red lips were perfect. My black tailored suit was armor. I pushed through the double doors with my head held high.

And I found Victoria sitting in my chair.

She looked up, feigning surprise. Her blonde hair was swept into a sleek bun, and she wore a cream silk blouse that probably cost more than the average person's mortgage. She looked soft. Fragile. Exactly the kind of woman Julian liked to save.

"Elena," she breathed, her voice dripping with fake concern.

"You shouldn't be here. Julian said you were unwell."

"I'm perfectly well," I said, walking to the head of the table. I didn't sit. I just stared at her.

"That's my chair."

Victoria glanced at Julian, who was seated at the opposite end. He looked exhausted. Pale. He hadn't slept either.

"Elena, sit down," Julian said, his voice firm.

"We're in the middle of a meeting."

"Then let's get to the point."

I looked at the board members--twelve men in dark suits. Most of them had been at my wedding. Most of them had eaten dinner in my home.

"Why is my husband's mistress sitting in my seat?"

A chair squeaked. A throat cleared.

Victoria's eyes welled with tears.

"Elena, I know you're sick. I'm only here to help Julian while you recover."

"Recover from what, exactly?"

"Postpartum psychosis," Julian said smoothly. He slid a stack of papers across the table.

"We have the medical reports. You've been hallucinating, Elena. You tried to hurt Leo."

He meant Noah, the boy he had passed off as Leo. My pulse jumped, but my face didn't move.

"I tried to hurt Leo?"

I repeated.

"You've been off your medication," Julian said. His voice was soft. Practiced. Pitying.

"I didn't want to do this publicly. But for the safety of our son, I'm asking the board to approve a temporary transfer of your proxy shares. Just until you get better."

The room went silent. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at me.

I looked at the papers. I didn't touch them.

"A temporary transfer," I said quietly.

"And where will I go while I'm recovering, Julian? Switzerland?"

Julian's jaw tightened. A tiny flicker of panic crossed his face.

"You need help," he said.

"We can talk about the details at home."

"There won't be a home to talk in," I said. I reached into my pocket and placed my phone on the table. Face down. I kept my hand over it.

"I'll agree to sign the proxy," I said softly.

Victoria's eyes darted to Julian. She couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips.

"You will?" Julian asked, suspicious.

"I will. On one condition."

"Name it."

I looked at him. Then at Victoria. Then at the twelve board members who had suddenly found their shoes incredibly interesting.

"I want to hear you say it," I said.

"Out loud. In front of everyone. You think I'm crazy. You think I'm unstable. Say it. On the record."

Julian hesitated. He looked at the board members. He needed this deal. He needed my shares.

"Fine," he said. He stood up, buttoned his jacket, and looked at the board.

"My wife is suffering from severe postpartum depression and paranoid delusions. For her safety and the stability of this company, I'm asking for temporary control of her voting shares. It's purely a protective measure."

Under the table, my finger pressed down. The screen of my phone, hidden beneath my palm, turned red. A small timer began to tick.

00:01. 00:02. 00:03.

"That's all I needed," I said. I picked up my phone and tucked it into my jacket pocket.

"You'll sign?" Julian asked.

"No," I said. I smiled.

"I just wanted you to admit it in front of the witnesses."

Julian's face went white.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," I said, walking toward the door.

"Yet."

I stopped at the door and turned around. I looked at Victoria, who was frozen in my chair. I looked at Julian, standing at the head of the table, his hands trembling.

"You have forty-eight hours," I said.

"Before every major news outlet in Manhattan receives the DNA results, the clinical intake forms, and a recording of your little conversation on the patio last night."

"You're bluffing," Julian hissed.

I pulled out my phone and held it up. The red recording light was still on.

"Want to find out?" I asked.

I walked out of the boardroom. I didn't run. I walked. Slow. Steady. Down the elevator. Through the lobby. Past the security guards who all nodded at me and called me Mrs. Vanguard.

I made it to the parking garage before my hands started shaking. I got into the back seat of the black sedan waiting for me. Marcus was in the driver's seat.

"You okay, Mrs. Vanguard?" he asked.

"No," I whispered. I pulled the seatbelt across my chest.

"Drive to Crescent Lane. Now."

Marcus put the car in gear.

"And the board meeting?"

"I just detonated a bomb," I said, closing my eyes.

"They just don't know it yet."

My phone buzzed. A text from Julian.

"You will regret this."

I deleted the message. I unlocked the phone. I opened the folder labeled "VAULT." The voice recording from the boardroom was already uploading. The DNA files were already loaded. I hit send.

I sent it to the Manhattan Times investigative desk. I wrote the subject line:

"Billionaire CEO Julian Vanguard's Genetic Fraud and Forced Institutionalization Plot."

Then I texted Marcus the address.

"Three miles," I said.

"We'll be there in ten."

I looked out the window at the cold city morning. My son was waiting for me. And Julian was about to learn what it felt like to lose everything.