Chapter 4 - THE MISTRESS'S FINAL BETRAYAL
Maxwell moved into a downtown apartment after Eleanor served separation papers.
Before he left, I asked him to sit down.
He looked exhausted.
“You wanted this,” he said bitterly.
“No.”
“What?”
“I wanted my husband.”
His expression flickered.
“I wanted the man who cried when he heard our daughter’s heartbeat. I wanted the man who used to leave coffee beside my laptop. I wanted the person I trusted.”
I slid my tablet across the table.
“But that man recorded himself planning how to take my child from me.”
He stared at the screen.
I pressed play.
His own voice filled the room.
After the baby is born, if Victoria becomes difficult, we document everything.
He went white.
When the video ended, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Maxwell whispered, “You recorded me in our bedroom?”
“I protected myself in my bedroom.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He covered his face.
“That conversation wasn’t what it sounds like.”
“It sounds like you discussing how to call me unstable so you could use your money against me.”
“I was angry.”
“You were strategic.”
“I never would have taken the baby from you.”
“You discussed it.”
“Sophia put ideas in my head.”
There it was.
Not accountability.
Sophia.
I almost pitied him.
Almost.
I retrieved Grant’s file.
“You should read this.”
“What is it?”
“Your girlfriend.”
He stared at me.
“Her name isn’t really Sophia Blake.”
His expression changed slowly as I explained.
The aliases.
The previous wealthy men.
The financial disputes.
The inquiries into my trust.
His first response was denial.
“She told me her family changed their name.”
“Of course she did.”
“She has her own money.”
“Does she?”
“She—”
He stopped.
I watched uncertainty spread across his face.
“Check your accounts,” I said.
He left that night carrying Grant’s file.
Twenty-four hours later, he called me seventeen times.
I answered once.
“She stole from me.”
His voice sounded hollow.
“How much?”
“Almost two million dollars.”
I closed my eyes.
“There are transfers I didn’t authorize. Small ones at first. Then larger amounts. She had access to an operating account because of the acquisition project.”
“I’m sorry.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m sorry this happened. That doesn’t mean I’m sorry you finally understand who she is.”
He said nothing.
Then quietly, “You were right.”
I looked down at my belly.
“No, Maxwell. I wish I had been wrong.”
Sophia disappeared from his life immediately.
But she wasn’t finished with mine.
At thirty-five weeks pregnant, I was sitting in the nursery folding tiny white pajamas when the alarm went off.
A violent crash came from downstairs.
I froze.
Then remembered every security briefing.
Lock the door.
Call security.
Do not investigate.
I locked the nursery.
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone.
“Someone’s inside.”
The dispatcher stayed on the line.
Below me, I heard running.
A man shouting.
Then a woman screamed.
“You ruined everything!”
I knew that voice.
Sophia.
My entire body went cold.
She had entered through a service door after breaking a glass panel.
Security intercepted her in Maxwell’s former study.
She had a laptop bag, a flash drive, latex gloves, and printed copies of financial documents.
She had come for evidence.
When officers from the local department removed her, she twisted toward the staircase.
“You think you won because you’re having his baby?” she screamed. “He’ll destroy you eventually!”
I stood at the top of the stairs with one arm around my belly.
“No,” I said.
My voice was strangely calm.
“He already tried.”
She was arrested for violating the order and unlawful entry.
Financial investigators later connected her to unauthorized transfers from Alder Ridge accounts.
Maxwell provided records voluntarily.
For the first time since the affair began, he did something that did not benefit him immediately.
The case against Sophia widened.
That same night, Maxwell came to the house.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Tie missing.
Eyes red.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“The baby?”
“She’s fine.”
He sank into a chair.
“This is my fault.”
I didn’t comfort him.
“I brought her into our lives.”
“Yes.”
He looked up, almost startled by my agreement.
“I thought she understood me.”
“Maybe she did.”
He stared.
“That’s worse, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward.
“I thought I was special to her.”
The irony was so painful I almost laughed.
“You made me feel replaceable because you wanted to feel irreplaceable to someone else.”
His face crumpled.
That sentence finally reached him.
He cried.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Like a man discovering that regret has no rewind button.
“I destroyed my family.”
“You damaged it.”
He looked at me.
“There’s a difference?”
“Yes.”
I rested my hand on my stomach.
“You don’t get to decide what happens to this family anymore. I do.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“No, Maxwell. I need you to really understand.”
I stood.
“Our daughter may have divorced parents. That does not mean she will come from a broken home. A home full of lies is broken. A peaceful home with one parent in it is not.”
He swallowed hard.
May you like
“What happens to me?”
“That depends on who you become.”
