I carried Lily straight upstairs to the nursery on the second floor and locked the door behind us.
Once I'd soothed her to sleep, I pulled out my backup phone.
I, Amy Fox, had never been a pushover.
Years ago, I'd seen something in Maxwell Gilbert. I'd handed him resources, connections, and a network that put him where he sat today.
If he wanted to bite the hand that fed him, then he had no one to blame when I bled him dry.
I dialed my private hacker assistant, K.
"K, I need you to trace the overseas transactions on an account for me."
For five years, Antonia Henson had been wiring enormous sums abroad under every excuse imaginable. She thought she'd been careful. In truth, I'd noticed a long time ago.
I just hadn't cared enough to look into it.
Now, though, the destination of that money was looking very suspicious.
Less than half an hour later, K sent the files to my encrypted inbox.
I opened the statements and scrolled through them, each line more absurd than the last.
Every single transfer ultimately funneled into an Australian account registered under the name Vivian.
And this Vivian's spending history could only be described as obscene. Day after day, it was either limited-edition handbags or chartered yachts and private parties.
Better still, K had hacked into an overseas social media platform and dug up Vivian's private account.
It was full of photos that could sear your eyes out of your skull.
The woman in the pictures wore oversized sunglasses and a bikini, draped over two blond men built like Greek statues.
Half her face was hidden, but I recognized her instantly by the signature red mole on her chin.
This was no Vivian.
This was Isabel Henson. The woman who had supposedly burned to ash in that fire.
I stared at the photos on my screen, and a cold smile curved my lips.
The sainted ghost. The untouchable first love, consumed by flames.
She and Antonia had orchestrated the perfect con, a masterwork of fake tragedy.
All for Maxwell's fortune. And they'd wanted my life thrown in as a bonus.
"Isabel, you've been having the time of your life overseas, haven't you."
"Since you're not dead after all, let me put together a proper welcome-home gift."
The next morning, I finished washing up and applied a full face of flawless makeup.
The moment I came downstairs, I saw Maxwell sitting at the table, spooning bird's nest soup toward Antonia's lips, coaxing her to drink.
When he noticed me, his gaze cooled several degrees.
"Have you come to your senses? If so, go to the hospital and get the pre-op screening done."
I walked to the dining table and poured myself a cup of black coffee. Every movement was unhurried, composed.
"Maxwell, I want a divorce."
The spoon in his hand stilled for a fraction of a second. Then he let out a derisive scoff.
"What game are you playing now, Amy?"
"Every time we fight, you throw around the word 'divorce' like it's supposed to scare me. You really think that still works?"
I took a slow sip of the coffee. The bitterness spread across my tongue.
"This isn't a threat. The attorney's letter will be delivered to your office this afternoon."
"Every asset under my name stays with me. You won't see a single cent."
"And I'm taking full custody of Lily."
Maxwell slammed the bowl onto the table. Bird's nest soup splattered everywhere.
"In your dreams."
"If you dare bring up divorce right now, I will destroy your reputation."
"Antonia's bone marrow donation? You're doing it whether you want to or not."
Antonia sat off to the side, dabbing at crocodile tears.
"It's all my fault, Amy. I'll just go. Please don't fight because of me."
She spoke while making a show of pushing herself up from the wheelchair. Her legs buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.
Maxwell scooped her up, cradling her against his chest, and turned a furious glare on me.
"Are you satisfied now?"
"If anything happens to Antonia, I swear you'll pay with your life."
