Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW HIS WEAKNESS
I learned about the forged authorization while standing in a grocery store, comparing prices on coffee.
Four days earlier, I'd walked away from a mansion filled with crystal chandeliers and people who barely remembered my name.
Now I was standing in a small neighborhood market, wearing jeans and an old gray sweater.
And for the first time in months, I could breathe.
My phone rang.
Vivian Cho.
My attorney.
"Elena, where are you?"
"Buying coffee."
She paused.
"Coffee?"
"Yes. Ordinary coffee. The kind that doesn't require a housekeeper to carry it upstairs."
Vivian sighed.
"Well, enjoy it while you can. We have a problem."
I leaned against the shopping cart.
"What happened?"
"Someone submitted a corporate authorization bearing your signature."
My stomach tightened.
"For which company?"
"Moretti Maritime."
I closed my eyes.
"Victoria."
"That's one possibility."
I placed the coffee back on the shelf.
"What does the document authorize?"
"Appointment of Victoria Hail as an additional corporate representative with significant approval authority."
My pulse quickened.
"Adrien wouldn't be foolish enough to sign that."
Vivian hesitated.
"Elena, Adrien apparently recommended her."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Six years.
Six years of building relationships with bankers, shipping executives, insurance brokers, and legal teams.
Six years of reviewing contracts while Adrien took credit for every successful negotiation.
And he'd tried to replace me with his mistress after four days.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the predictability was almost insulting.
"Did the bank accept it?"
"No. Your trust administrator flagged the signature."
Relief washed through me.
"Good."
Vivian continued.
"We've notified the appropriate parties and requested preservation of the documents."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
Then she hesitated.
"Elena, there's something strange."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The signature wasn't simply copied from an old contract."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"It appears to have been taken from a newer document."
I stared at the frozen-food aisle.
"Which document?"
"Your preliminary divorce agreement."
My breath caught.
There was no divorce agreement.
Not yet.
I'd asked Vivian to begin preparing one.
But I hadn't signed anything.
"That's impossible."
Vivian's voice hardened.
"Exactly."
I gripped the cart.
"Who drafted it?"
"We're investigating."
After the call, I drove to the little house where I'd been staying.
It belonged to my late aunt.
A modest two-story property on the north side of Chicago.
No gates.
No security cameras watching every hallway.
No staff waiting for permission to speak.
Just a small garden, a leaky kitchen faucet, and a silence that felt like freedom.
I placed my groceries on the counter.
Then noticed an envelope beneath the front door.
Heavy cream paper.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Adrien stood beside Victoria in the Moretti mansion's private study.
He was smiling.
She was holding a folder.
Beneath the photograph was a handwritten message.
He wasn't the first man she destroyed.
I stared at the words.
Then turned the photograph over.
A date had been written on the back.
Six years earlier.
Three months before Adrien and I married.
And beside Victoria stood someone I recognized immediately.
My older brother.
May you like
Thomas Carter.
The brother who'd supposedly died in a boating accident eight years ago.
