Chapter 2

My throat tightened, and I almost thanked her.

But a split second later, everything changed.

She picked up the application again, dug her fingers into the paper, and ripped it to shreds right in front of my eyes. The torn pieces fluttered through the air, scattering all over the office floor.

My stomach dropped, and the blood ran cold in my veins.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

Penelope toyed with the scrap of paper left in her hand, looking at me with contempt.

"You actually had the nerve to submit something of this caliber for my approval? Did you seriously not notice the typo here? If you can't be bothered to proofread a basic request, then clearly saving your mother isn't that important to you.

"You're just using a sick old woman as a convenient excuse to scam money out of Mr. Kane. It's pathetic what gold-digging housewives will resort to when they want a handout."

Hearing her say that made the rage I had been fighting so hard to suppress boil over yet again.

Even so, I forced myself to tamp it down, desperately trying to appeal to whatever humanity she had left. "Ms. Sanders, put yourself in my shoes for a second. If it were your mother who got hit by a car today—"

"Shut your mouth!" she spat, her eyes darting to me with fury.

"I have no idea how a vile woman like you managed to trick Mr. Kane into marrying you, but I'm just doing my job, and you dare to sit there and wish death on my mother? Well, guess what? Now I'm absolutely not approving this. Let's see whose mother dies first!"

A kind-hearted intern standing nearby finally reached her limit and tried to intervene, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper.

"Ms. Sanders, her mother's literally in critical condition. Maybe we could let it slide just this once? It's only a single typo. She can just cross it out and fix it. This can't wait—"

Penelope's expression darkened instantly, and she whipped her head around to glare at her.

"Who permitted you to speak? You're a low-level intern who hasn't even passed probation, and you think you can stick your nose into my business?" Penelope snapped, pointing a manicured finger at the door. "Don't bother coming in tomorrow. Go straight to HR right now and pack your bags."

The intern's eyes welled with tears, and she stood there utterly paralyzed, not knowing what to do.

I couldn't take it anymore. Stepping forward, I physically shielded her behind my back.

"What gives you the right to fire her? This isn't your company, and you don't get to do whatever you want just because no one's stopping you," I said.

"This is your final warning. Process that transfer right now. If anything happens to Mom because of your petty games, you won't be able to get away with it."

Penelope let out a sharp, mocking laugh as she gave me a once-over.

"Look at you, a dependent, stay-at-home housewife who thinks she can play savior for the staff. Let's be clear, even if your mother kicks the bucket, it's just her bad luck catching up to her. It has absolutely nothing to do with me. You're not getting a single dime, so get the hell out of my office!"

Penelope meant every word. Without missing a beat, she grabbed her internal phone to call security and have me thrown out of the building.

Blood rushed straight to my head, and the anger I had spent the last two hours bottling up completely exploded.

I balled my hands into tight fists, staring her down without flinching. "Penelope Sanders! If Tristan finds out his own mother missed her chance at surgery because you intentionally blocked the funds, he'll never let this go!"

Penelope crossed her legs, leaning back with complete indifference. "Wow, are you trying to intimidate me with Mr. Kane?

"Mr. Kane put me in full control of the corporate accounts. If I don't sign off on it, you're not touching a single penny. If you think you're so tough, go ahead and get him to tell me himself. The second he tells me to release the money, I'll do it."

Before coming here, I had called Tristan 99 times, yet every single call went straight to voicemail. By the time I actually tracked him down, Margery might already be gone.

Just as I reached into my bag to pull out my phone and call the police, a pair of heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the hallway.

The moment Penelope heard the sound, the cruel, vicious smirk vanished from her face.

She stood up instantly, morphing into a picture of gentle, sweet innocence.

I whipped around toward the door.

Standing at the doorway was my husband, Tristan Kane, who had been completely unreachable all afternoon. He stood there with his brow furrowed, taking in the chaotic scene.

The moment I saw him, a massive weight lifted off my chest, and the tears I had been fighting back finally spilled over.

There was hope for Margery.