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Book 2: Chapter 72: The Woman Who Lied

last update publish date: 2026-10-19 00:13:56

Serena's press conference was on a Tuesday.

Nine days after the courtroom. Six days after Adrian had been formally arraigned. Four days after Marcus had signed the final terms of his cooperation agreement in a small windowless room in the federal building with two of Nathan's associates present. Serena had asked to make her own public statement before the second phase of the trial began, and Nathan had, after some consideration, allowed it.

I did not attend in person.

I watched from home. Ethan
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  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Book 2: Chapter 74: The Last Name

    Her name was Vivienne Ashford.She had joined Lumière as my chief operating officer in the second year of the company. Ten years older than me. She had built our first operational systems, hired our first three department heads, and had been beside me in every early boardroom that mattered. She had been the first person outside my family I trusted with the plan for what Lumière was going to become.She had left the company in 2013.She had died, according to the notice her family sent to the company, of an aggressive cancer eleven months later.I had cried at the funeral. I had held her sister's hand. I had cried again a year afterwards on the anniversary. I had, in the seven years since, kept a photograph of the two of us from the day we had signed Lumière's first international contract, in a frame on the shelf behind my desk, because Vivienne had been the person who had taught me that a woman running a company should keep something on her office wall that reminded her she had not bu

  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Book 2: Chapter 73: The Missing Detail

    "Say it, Serena.""Amelia. The night I met Ethan. In 2018. At the fundraiser at the Frick. You remember.""I remember. I was in Milan that week. Ethan went alone. He came home and told me he had been introduced to a woman who worked at a gallery in Chelsea.""That was me. That was the introduction. What I never told you, what I never told him, what I never told a single person until this moment, is that the introduction was not accidental. It was assigned. I was told, three weeks before that fundraiser, by the woman who ran my handlers, that I was to attend the event, that I was to be introduced to Ethan specifically, and that I was to establish a first impression with him that would still be usable seven years later if the operation ever required me to insert myself into his life. She did not tell me why. She told me his name. She told me his firm. She told me his face. She told me that I was not to sleep with him, not to flirt with him, not to make myself memorable. I was to be plea

  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Book 2: Chapter 72: The Woman Who Lied

    Serena's press conference was on a Tuesday.Nine days after the courtroom. Six days after Adrian had been formally arraigned. Four days after Marcus had signed the final terms of his cooperation agreement in a small windowless room in the federal building with two of Nathan's associates present. Serena had asked to make her own public statement before the second phase of the trial began, and Nathan had, after some consideration, allowed it.I did not attend in person.I watched from home. Ethan sat next to me on the couch. My hand was on my stomach because it had not left there for four days, because the small firm insistent presence underneath my palm had been kicking on and off since Sunday, and I had not, in the entire second pregnancy of my life, allowed myself to feel it in this specific way until Richard Blackwood had been remanded into federal custody and I had understood, finally, that no man in any country was going to be watching this pregnancy anymore.Serena walked to the

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    The drive took forty two minutes.I did not read a headline. I did not answer a message. I did not call Ethan back to ask what he had meant, because the whole point of Ethan sending a sentence like that was that he intended to say the rest of it in the room with me, and I did not want to hear it broken up over a phone call.I let my hand rest against the small firm curve of my stomach for the entire drive.I did not speak to the baby. I never had. I had understood, from the first pregnancy, that the specific quiet promise a mother makes to a child in the first six months of a pregnancy is not made in words. It is made in the exact stillness of the palm.The car pulled up at ten past five.Every window on the ground floor of the house was warm.Ethan opened the door before I had reached the top step, and he was in a t-shirt and jeans and no shoes, and his hair was still wet at the ends from a shower he had taken in the last twenty minutes, and he looked at me on my own porch with the s

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    Amelia's POVNathan yielded the floor before he had begun.He turned to the judge. He asked, in the careful voice he used when he had prepared a moment and understood it was not his to deliver, for the court's permission to allow the injured party a closing statement in her own voice, in place of counsel. The judge looked at me. She nodded once.I stood.I walked to the small space in front of the bench. I did not look at Richard. I did not look at the gallery. I looked at the judge, and then, past her, at the American flag on the wall behind her, and then, down at my hands, and then, finally, at the room."Your Honor. Members of the gallery. Mr. Blackwood."I paused."I would like to say one thing before this court closes today, because I understand it is going to be repeated in every news outlet in this country tomorrow morning, and I would like the sentence to be one I chose, in a voice I own, in the order I meant it."The room was very still."I did not build my company on a perfe

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    Amelia did not step back from the sentence.She let Richard finish saying it. She let it sit in the room. She let the gallery write it. And then, without moving from where she was standing, she said, quietly, in the voice she used when she was going to force a man to correct a lie he had told himself before he told it to her, "That is not true anymore, Mr. Blackwood. That was true seventeen years ago. It is not true now."Richard looked at her."Say the rest of the sentence.""There is nothing to say.""Yes there is. And I would like you to say it in this courtroom, on this record, because you have never been forced to say it out loud in your life, and I am going to give you the opportunity. Say what I became to you, after the first ten years."The courtroom did not move.Richard's jaw tightened.Then, in the small ugly voice of a man who had spent forty years believing his hatred was principled and was discovering, in real time, that it had become personal a long time ago, he said th

  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Chapter Two: He Came Home With Her

    I am still at the table when morning comes.I did not plan to stay. At some point in the night I told myself I would get up, clear the plates, blow out what was left of the candles, go upstairs and take the blue dress off and lie down like a person with some dignity. I told myself that somewhere ar

  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Chapter One: The Birthday He Forgot

    The candles are still burning.Two little flames sitting in the center of the dining table. I have been watching them for a while now. Not because they are beautiful, but because watching them gives me something to do other than check the door.The food went cold an hour ago. The wine I opened at s

  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Chapter Five: The Baby He Wanted Gone

    Sophia arrived within the hour of me calling her, walked through the curtain still in her work clothes, sat down beside me and took my hand and did not say I told you so even though she had every right to.Damien did not come back.Not that afternoon. Not that evening. Sophia was the one who stayed

  • HIS MISTRESS, MY REVENGE   Chapter Four: The Morning She Collapsed

    I did not sleep that night.I lay in the guest room and listened to them downstairs, his voice and hers, easy and low, the sound of two people completely at home with each other, until the house finally went quiet somewhere past midnight. Then I stared at the ceiling until morning came and did it a

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