"Thank you so much, Amber! You have no idea what this means to me."
Caroline was practically vibrating with excitement. She stood in the center of the ballroom, directing the florists with a manic energy that bordered on frantic. The Charity Gala was her baby now. I had handed it over to her on a silver platter two days ago, citing my "fragile state" and need for rest.
"It's been my dream to host this," Caroline gushed. "I've always wanted to be the one on stage, welcoming everyone. You're the best, really."
"You deserve it," I said, forcing a weak smile. "You've worked so hard. And honestly, I don't think I could handle the crowd right now. The noise... it's too much."
"Don't worry about anything," Caroline said. "I'll make sure everything is perfect. You just focus on getting better."
Later that evening, I sat in the library, staring blankly at a book I wasn't reading. Trevor came in, closing the door softly behind him.
"Hey," he said, sitting on the arm of my chair. "How are you feeling? You look pale."
"I'm... okay," I lied, letting my voice tremble. "Just tired. My head feels foggy."
"Is the medicine helping?" he asked, watching me closely. "Dr. Evans said it might take a few days to kick in fully."
"I think so," I said, rubbing my temples. "I just feel... heavy. Like I can't wake up."
"That's normal," Trevor soothed, stroking my hair. "It's the sedatives. They're supposed to help you sleep. You need rest, Amber. You've been through a trauma."
I leaned into his touch, suppressing the urge to recoil. I knew exactly what the "medicine" was. I had been chewing the pills every night and flushing them down the toilet. But I had to play the part. I had to be the broken, medicated wife who was slowly losing her grip on reality.
That night, as I lay in bed feigning sleep, I heard Trevor on the phone in the hallway.
"It doesn't seem to be working fast enough," he whispered. "She's still lucid. She's tired, yeah, but not... broken. We need to up the dosage before the Gala. I need her completely out of it when she signs the papers."
The next three days were a performance. I stumbled. I slurred my words. I "forgot" conversations we had just had. I spent hours staring at the wall, crying over nothing. Trevor and Caroline watched me with predatory satisfaction, convinced their plan was working.
On the morning of the Gala, I didn't get out of bed.
Trevor came in with a tray of breakfast and a stack of documents. He looked sharp in his tuxedo, ready for his big night.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, setting the tray down. "You need to eat something. And... I need you to sign these."
"What are they?" I mumbled, squinting at the papers.
"Just some routine authorizations for the Gala," Trevor said smoothly, uncapping a pen. "Vendor contracts, liability waivers. Nothing important. But we need your signature to release the funds for tonight."
I looked at the papers. Buried in the stack of invoices was the Power of Attorney transfer.
"Okay," I whispered. "I trust you."
I signed.
"Perfect," he said, kissing my forehead. "You're doing great, babe. Now, try to get some rest. I know you said you wanted to come later, but honestly... maybe you should just stay here. It's going to be overwhelming."
"I'll try," I said weakly. "But if I feel up to it... I want to see Caroline shine."
"We'll see," Trevor said, already backing out of the room. "I have to go help her set up. I'll call you later."
"Okay. Have fun."
The moment the front door closed and the sound of his car faded down the driveway, I threw off the covers.
I grabbed the duffel bag I had hidden under the bed days ago. Inside was cash, a burner phone, my passport, and the hard drive containing every piece of evidence Arthur and I had gathered.
I walked out of the house.
As I drove away from the estate, I felt a pang of sadness for the girl who had moved into that house full of hope, but it was quickly replaced by the cold resolve of the woman driving away.
I pulled over at a rest stop an hour later. I took out the tablet and connected to the Gala's live stream.
The ballroom was packed. And there, on the stage, stood Trevor and Caroline.
"Thank you all for coming," Trevor said into the microphone. "My wife, Amber, sends her deepest regrets. As many of you know, she has been struggling with... health issues recently. The loss of our child was devastating, and she is taking some much-needed time away to heal."
"But," he continued, brightening, "she insisted that the show must go on. And she wanted to share a special message with all of you tonight. A video tribute to the resilience of the human spirit, and to the future of the company.”
Caroline beamed beside him, clutching his arm.
"Please," Trevor gestured to the massive screen behind them. "Turn your attention to the screen."
I smirked.
I had swapped the file on the server ten minutes before I left the house. Arthur had given me the backdoor access codes. They hadn't even checked it. They were so arrogant, so sure of my incompetence, that they hadn't bothered to verify the file.
Now, it would ruin them.
I turned off the tablet.
I picked up my phone and typed a single message to Trevor's number.
Have a happy life without me, ex-husband.
I tossed the phone out the window and drove into the night.
