For the next two days, I became exactly the wife Damien wanted me to be.
I woke before sunrise every morning so his espresso would be waiting the moment he walked into the kitchen. I pressed every one of his dress shirts until they were perfectly crisp, smoothing each crease with painstaking care. Whenever he returned home long after dark, carrying the unmistakable scent of Vanessa's perfume, I welcomed him with a pleasant smile and asked how his day had gone, pretending I didn't already know he had spent it with another woman.
On the second morning, we sat across from each other at the breakfast table in complete silence. Damien barely acknowledged my presence as he scrolled through emails on his tablet.
"Vivian," he said without lifting his eyes from the screen, "I need you to buy a gift for our Japanese investors today. Something traditional. A quality tea set should do. Make sure it's wrapped nicely. Use your own money for now, and I'll reimburse you later."
I forced my lips into a gentle smile.
"Of course. Is there anything else you need?"
"There is." He took another sip of coffee before speaking again. "Stop by the florist and order two dozen white lilies. Have them delivered to my office."
White lilies.
They had once been my favorite flowers. Back then, I thought he chose them because he remembered what I loved. Eventually, I learned the truth. They were simply inexpensive flowers that looked elegant enough to impress people.
"All right," I replied softly.
I spent the afternoon carrying out every instruction he had given me. I purchased an expensive porcelain tea set, arranged for elegant wrapping, ordered the lilies, and even handwrote a thoughtful card for the investors. My handwriting remained neat and steady despite the anger simmering beneath my calm exterior.
When I arrived at Bennett Tower with everything he had requested, the receptionist stopped me before I reached the elevators.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bennett," she said politely. "Mr. Bennett is still in a meeting. I can deliver those for you."
I handed her the gift box along with the flowers.
As I turned to leave, the elevator doors opened behind me.
A delivery man stepped out carrying an enormous bouquet of deep red roses.
"Delivery for Ms. Vanessa," he announced cheerfully.
My feet stopped moving.
The roses were breathtaking. Rich crimson blooms filled the arrangement, wrapped in luxurious paper and tied with satin ribbon.
Damien had asked me to buy ordinary lilies for business associates while he sent extravagant roses to his mistress.
Without saying another word, I walked out of the building.
That evening, I stood in the kitchen preparing dinner.
The knife rose and fell in a steady rhythm as I chopped vegetables.
Each strike against the cutting board echoed through the room.
For one dangerous moment, I imagined the blade wasn't slicing carrots.
I imagined it cutting through Damien's throat.
The fantasy vanished the instant I heard the front door open.
"Vivian!" Damien called from the foyer. "We're home."
We're?
Confused, I dried my hands on a kitchen towel and walked toward the entrance.
The sight waiting for me made my blood run cold.
Damien was carrying Vanessa in his arms as though she were a bride cCarterng the threshold of her new home.
One arm circled beneath her knees while the other supported her back. A small bandage wrapped around one ankle, and she clung to his neck with exaggerated helplessness.
I looked from one to the other.
"What exactly is going on?"
"Vanessa injured her ankle during today's site inspection," Damien explained. Although he sounded slightly out of breath, it clearly wasn't from carrying her. His expression challenged me to object. "She can't put any weight on it, so she'll be staying here for a few days until she's recovered."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Here?" I repeated. "You expect her to stay in our house?"
"Yes."
His answer came instantly.
"It happened because I pushed her too hard at work. The least I can do is make sure she's comfortable while she heals."
I shifted my attention to Vanessa.
"Doesn't she have an apartment? Friends? Family? Anyone else who could help her?"
Vanessa lowered her head against Damien's shoulder, looking every bit the helpless victim.
"I'm really sorry, Vivian," she said softly. "I never wanted to impose on you. My apartment doesn't have an elevator. I'd have to climb four flights of stairs."
Damien didn't even let me respond.
"She's staying here," he said firmly as he carried her toward the guest room. "And she's hungry, so make enough dinner for all three of us."
I remained where I was, listening to their footsteps disappear upstairs.
The sheer nerve of the man left me speechless.
He had brought his mistress into our home under the excuse of a minor injury and expected me to play hostess.
I let out a slow breath.
"Fine," I murmured to myself. "Keep playing your game."
Returning to the kitchen, I added another serving of pasta to the pot and stirred the simmering sauce. The thought of poisoning it crossed my mind more than once, but revenge wasn't worth losing my freedom.
When everything was ready, I carried the dishes into the dining room and set the table.
Damien came downstairs alone.
"Vanessa's resting," he explained as he settled into his usual chair. "She feels guilty about causing trouble."
"I'm sure she does," I replied evenly while pouring wine into his glass.
He watched me for a moment.
"I realize this arrangement isn't exactly normal," he admitted. "But we're under a lot of pressure with the merger. Having Vanessa here will make work much more convenient."
I sat across from him.
"Convenient for whom?"
He ignored the question entirely.
"Speaking of the merger, I need your signature on a few documents."
He opened his briefcase and slid a thick folder across the table.
I didn't touch it.
"What am I signing?"
"Some asset transfers."
His tone was so casual it might have been a grocery list.
"It's time to move your father's trust and the Carter holdings under Bennett Corporation. Consolidating everything will make the merger much stronger."
My grip tightened around my fork.
"My father left those assets for Ethan," I reminded him quietly. "They're supposed to become his when he turns twenty-five."
Damien calmly cut into his steak before answering.
"Ethan's sitting in jail now. As far as the law is concerned, he's a convicted criminal. Someone like that can't be trusted to manage an inheritance."
He lifted his wineglass.
"And besides, who else is there to protect those assets? I'm the only family you have left who isn't behind bars."
The realization settled over me like ice.
He hadn't framed Ethan simply to punish me.
He had done it to steal everything my father intended to leave behind.
I looked down at the paperwork.
"If I sign these," I asked carefully, "will you help my brother? Will you make those charges disappear?"
Damien studied me for several seconds before answering.
"If you cooperate," he said at last, "I'll make a few phone calls. I can't promise the charges will vanish, but perhaps I can convince the prosecutor to reduce them. Maybe probation instead of prison."
Every instinct told me he was lying.
Still, I couldn't let him know that.
I lowered my eyes.
"All right," I said quietly. "I'll sign them... for Ethan."
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
"That's my girl."
He took another bite of dinner before speaking again.
"While you're at it, Vanessa mentioned she'd love some of your soup. Could you take a tray upstairs for her?"
I looked from the folder to his smug expression.
Then I smiled.
"Of course. I'll bring it to her first. After that, I'll sign everything."
I prepared a tray with soup, bread, and tea before climbing the stairs.
My legs felt strangely heavy with every step.
When I reached the guest room, I knocked gently.
"Come in," Vanessa called.
I opened the door.
She was propped comfortably against a pile of pillows.
My pillows.
She had also changed into one of Damien's oversized T-shirts.
The sight made my stomach twist.
I placed the tray on the bedside table.
"Your dinner."
She looked up with what seemed like genuine sympathy.
"Thank you, Vivian. You're being so kind. I honestly feel terrible about all this."
I met her eyes.
"You don't need to apologize to me," I replied calmly. "Just finish your meal, recover quickly, and leave my house the moment you're able to walk."
Without waiting for an answer, I turned around and walked out.
Back inside the master bedroom, I sat at the writing desk and opened the folder.
Every page revealed another piece of Damien's plan.
Transfer of Property.
Power of Attorney.
Trust Liquidation.
He wasn't satisfied with taking my child, my marriage, or my brother.
He intended to take my family's entire legacy as well.
I picked up the pen and held it over the signature line.
Just before the tip touched the paper, my phone vibrated across the desk.
A text message flashed onto the screen.
Unknown Number.
Everything is prepared. The documents are ready, and the account has been opened. Meet me at the old warehouse by the docks in three days. Midnight. Come alone. —L
I stared at the message until a small spark of hope flickered inside me for the first time in weeks.
"Three days," I whispered to myself.
"I only have to survive three more days."
