Jonathan lounged on the plush sofa in his high-rise hotel suite, the top buttons of his black shirt undone, giving him an air of effortless confidence.
A soft knock sounded before Robert stepped inside, folders in hand. "Mr. Taylor, here's the background report on Brodie. Also, since we ended things with Wilson Group, he's been calling nonstop trying to reach you."
Jonathan barely glanced at the paperwork, uninterested in the details for now.
"Don't bother returning his calls," he said, his tone cool and resolute. "His suffering will be endless and anguished."
Confusion flickered across Robert's face. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, why single out the Wilson Group? Did Brodie do something to provoke you?"
A single cold look from Jonathan was enough to silence any further questions, the weight of his authority instantly filling the room.
A shiver ran through Robert, who quickly bowed his head. "Apologies, Mr. Taylor. I shouldn't have pried. On another note, there's an invitation here for a business banquet this Friday. Would you like to attend?"
Jonathan drummed his fingers against the sofa's arm, considering the invitation. "Will Brodie be there?"
"He's listed as a guest. He usually brings his wife to these gatherings, and I'd bet he'll be working the room harder than ever now that the Taylor Group dropped his company. He's desperate to find new allies," Robert replied, keeping his voice steady.
The mention of Brodie bringing his wife to the event brought a faint, knowing smile to Jonathan's lips, a spark of intrigue flickering in his eyes. "I'll go to the banquet."
Robert, caught off guard for just a second, quickly regained his composure. "Understood, Mr. Taylor."
As Robert moved to exit, Jonathan spoke up again. "Also, arrange for Cirrus Mansion to be ready. I'll be moving in tomorrow."
That announcement left Robert both surprised and secretly delighted. "So you're finally staying in the city for a while!"
Jonathan's time in recent years had been spent mostly abroad, each visit home short and packed with business obligations before he'd disappear again.
Only one ritual never changed—no matter how busy he was, he always made time to see someone special, slipping away for half a day every visit.
Nobody on his team knew who it was. The whole thing was shrouded in secrecy.
Once, curiosity got the better of Robert, and he dared to ask.
Jonathan's reply was cool and dismissive. "Just a fool."
Jonathan waved Robert out, ending the conversation. With the room finally quiet, he reached for Brodie's file and began flipping through the pages at a relaxed pace.
His attention paused on the name "Bethany" listed under spouse, along with the sparse details of her background.
A small passport photo of Bethany was clipped to the file, capturing a face marked by delicate features and a steady, determined gaze.
Jonathan tapped his fingers against the desk, his expression unreadable as a storm of emotion flickered in his eyes.
One line in the report stopped him cold—"Forced his wife, Bethany, to undergo a bone marrow extraction to save Karen." Instantly, a chill entered his stare and the whole room seemed to tighten around him.
His finger pressed hard against the paper as he repeated her name in his mind.
Bethany.
So that sickly, fragile look he had noticed wasn't an accident—it was the result of everything she'd been forced to endure.
Brodie had sacrificed his own wife's well-being for the sake of another woman. That was a cruelty Jonathan couldn't ignore.
A dangerous smile crept across Jonathan's lips. Brodie would not escape the consequences.
...
Friday night arrived with the city shining bright, and the grand ballroom of the Glory Hotel buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses.
Bethany swept into the hall beside Brodie, draped in a champagne gown that shimmered under the lights and adorned with a set of diamonds he had chosen. Every detail was perfect, from her polished look to the graceful air she carried.
The couple drew instant attention as they entered arm in arm.
Brodie flashed a proud smile at his elegant wife, clearly pleased by the admiring stares they received.
Bethany's poise and beauty had always served as Brodie's favorite "show piece" in any crowd.
"Good evening, Mr. Wilson. Good evening, Mrs. Wilson." One guest after another came by with polite greetings.
Brodie navigated the room with practiced charm, while Bethany wore her carefully curated smile, slipping easily into the role of the loving wife at his side.
"I'm going to step out for a moment." A soft tilt of her head brought her lips close to his ear.
He squeezed her hand in response, barely glancing her way. "Don't take too long."
His attention drifted elsewhere, scanning the ballroom for any sign of Jonathan's arrival.
After freshening up in the restroom, Bethany found the air inside stifling. She slipped out to the small garden in the back, seeking a quiet breath away from the crowd.
Just as she began to relax, a silken, deliberately provocative voice called out behind her. "You must be Bethany."
Bethany stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face the speaker. Standing before her was a woman draped in a bold red backless gown, every line calculated to draw the eye.
It was Karen.
"That's right. What do you want?" Bethany replied, her tone icy and her eyes unreadable.
Clicking confidently across the stones, Karen closed the distance between them, every step punctuated by the sound of her heels.
A slight tilt of Karen's head was matched by a sweet, almost childlike smile. "Nothing really. I've just heard so much about you, Mrs. Wilson. Brodie's always praising you for being such a devoted wife."
Bethany returned the courtesy with a cold, distant smile. "That's kind of you, Miss Jenkins. Oddly enough, I've never heard him mention you."
Karen's expression faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. "Brodie probably doesn't want you to get the wrong idea. He and I work closely these days, and he always looks out for me. I hope you don't mind?"
"Not at all," Bethany answered smoothly. "But maybe you should be concerned. There's nothing glamorous about being called a mistress, is there?"
"You!" Karen's hands shook with barely controlled anger.
Damn it! So, Bethany already knew. All the better—there was no need for pretense now.
"You can blame me all you want, but holding onto a man who doesn't love you is pointless, don't you think?" Karen began.
Her eyes sparkled with a cruel innocence. "Oh, and just so you know, Brodie gave me that good luck charm you made for him when I wasn't feeling well. He said it might bring me luck. But honestly, I tossed it—anything that's touched another woman isn't worth keeping."