Andrew’s POV
"Fuck!" I yelled, my head swung around to look towards the door. My eyes widened as I realized that Melinda had already seen too much. She wasn’t supposed to show up , not without warning.
Not with that look in her eyes and that silly white dress she always wore on our anniversaries like we were still the couple we used to be. Which we weren't anymore.
Leaning on the door, I tried to steady my breath. My heart was racing and all I could think was she wasn’t meant to see that. "I'm fucked up now".
“Do you think she saw everything?” Vanessa asked, her voice low but calm, like this was just another minor inconvenience.
I didn’t answer right away. I was still replaying the look on Melinda’s face shock, pain, and something colder… final.
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “But it doesn’t matter now. Damage is done.”
Vanessa sighed and fixed her skirt, looking calm like nothing happened “You knew this would come out eventually. Better now than later.”
I walked to the desk, hoping to think straight, but everything inside me felt like a storm. This wasn’t how today was meant to unfold.
It was our anniversary.
I could still hear her heels, sharp and loud in my head. Melinda always showed up when she shouldn’t, this time, she ruined everything.
Vanessa was still fixing her shirt when I shut and locked the door.
"She’s really losing it," Vanessa muttered, wiping the lipstick off her collarbone like it was just another Tuesday.
“You saw her eyes did she know about the photos?”
"She knows now,” I said coolly, tossing the remaining contents of the envelope onto my desk. Fabricated proof, Just enough scandal and manipulation to break her.
Vanessa made herself comfortable on the leather couch, crossed her legs, and gave off that smug, in control vibe she was famous for. I don't know how she does it, she just wasn't bothered about what had just played out.
She carried herself as if she was already my wife. Her confidence was part of the reason I’d fallen into bed with her. That and the fact that Melinda had stopped being interesting a long time ago.
You think she bought it?" Vanessa asked, raising a skeptical brow.
I shrugged. “She left, didn’t she?”
I glanced out the window. She’d probably be halfway across the parking garage by now, clutching her pearls like a soap opera heroine. Melinda never did know how to handle confrontation. Always the quiet type. Sweet. Predictable.
That was the beauty of her.
She never saw it coming.
Vanessa laughed, low and cruel. You’re something else, babe so ruthless.
No," I said as I leaned back in my chair. “I’m practical.”
Marriage is a business arrangement. Always has been. Melinda and I made sense on paper. Two architects, fresh out of school, building a firm from scratch. She had the talent, and I had the drive. I let her shine a little just enough to keep her wanting more, but not enough to become a threat.
She never realized she was working for me, not with me.
Until she started talking about starting her own firm. Wanting more. That’s when I knew she had to go. A divorce would cost too much bad press, bad timing, and Melinda had more friends in the design world than I liked to admit.
So Vanessa and I made a plan.
The photos. The staged betrayal. The right push at the right moment.
And it worked until she showed up before we were ready.
“She didn’t scream,” Vanessa said suddenly, almost disappointed. “She just looked… shattered.”
“She’ll cry it out in some hotel bathroom and go back to her pretty little spreadsheets,” I muttered. “Melinda doesn’t have the guts to walk away.”
Something felt off.
It wasn’t disgust. I’d seen that before. This was worse. It was the silence. She didn’t say a word. The way she didn’t crumble right there in front of us.
She just… walked out.
“She knows,” I said quietly.
Vanessa blinked. “Knows what?”
I turned slowly toward her, every muscle stiffening. “She heard us.”
Vanessa's smirk faded. “What are you talking about?”
“She came in earlier than we expected,” I said, standing. “I didn’t hear the elevator. She must’ve already been outside the door when we were talking.”
"You said the door was shut"
"Doors don’t muffle secrets, Vanessa. You and I were talking about her life insurance policy. About how convenient it would be if she just… disappeared. You think that didn’t plant a seed?”
Silence.
I picked up my phone and dialed her number. Straight to voicemail.
Again.
I tossed the phone back on the desk. “Damn it.”
“She won’t do anything,” Vanessa said nervously. “She’s soft, remember?”
“Not anymore,” I said, eyes narrowing. “If she heard what I think she did, she’s not just angry. She’s calculating.”
Vanessa shifted on the couch. “Okay, so what now?”
“I check the bank accounts. The property deeds. I’ll call Marcus see if he’s heard from her. She can’t move much without making noise.”
The more I spoke, the more distant she seemed. For the first time in years, I couldn’t read Melinda and that shook me more than I was ready to admit.
She was good at planning things when she wanted to be. Obsessive with details. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. That wasn’t grief I saw in her eyes when she left. That was clarity.
Melinda had stopped being weak the moment I thought I broke her and if she was smart and she was, she’d already gone to the lawyers. Maybe even canceled the insurance policy. Maybe moved the money. If she had any dirt on me, she’d bury it deep until she was ready to strike.
The hunter had become the hunted.
“She’s not coming back,” I muttered.
Vanessa stood stiffly, arms folded. “So that’s it? You’re just going to let her leave?”
“I don’t have a choice. Not right now.”
I reached into my drawer and pulled out the file Vanessa and I had put together, fabricated emails, staged hotel receipts, doctored surveillance photos. All of it felt like a joke now. Because if Melinda really left, and she had something stronger than this up her sleeve I was the one exposed.
Vanessa hovered behind me like a vulture. “If she talks”
“She won’t,” I said. “Not yet.”
I had to find her first. Before she could rebuild. Before she could come back stronger.
Because if there was one thing I knew for certain it was that Melinda always played the long game.
And for the first time since she walked into my life, I didn’t know what move she’d make next.
Morning came too soon, sunlight spilling across Melinda’s face like a cruel reminder that nothing was as it seemed.James was already dressed, buttoning his crisp white shirt in front of the mirror. His reflection caught her eye, and for a moment, she simply watched him carefully, cautiously.The man who had once made her feel safe now seemed wrapped in questions she hadn’t dared ask.“You slept like a rock,” James said, his voice warm and teasing as he adjusted his cufflinks. “Did you even hear the thunder last night?”She gave him a faint smile. “Didn’t notice.”He leaned over, kissed her forehead, then her lips. “I’ll be late tonight. Board meeting with the East Coast investors. You remember Thomas, right?”She nodded slowly, committing the name to memory. “Of course.”He kissed her once more before leaving, and as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence roared to life. She waited ten minutes long enough for him to get into the elevator and drive off before grabbing her bag a
Melinda stood in front of the nondescript address the message had led her to an old warehouse tucked behind the rusted edge of the city’s forgotten district. No cameras, no streetlights, and no witnesses.She checked her phone again.8:03 PM.Another message blinked on screen."You're late. Come to the back entrance. Alone."She swallowed hard and pulled her coat tighter around her. The darkness behind the building felt alive, the kind that clung to your skin and whispered threats in your ear. But she kept going. She had to.When she rounded the corner, a figure emerged from the shadows hooded, tall, male. But he didn’t move like someone who wanted to hurt her. He moved like someone who had been waiting.“You came,” he said.His voice was muffled but familiar. Her hand tightened around the pepper spray in her pocket, just in case.“Who are you?” she asked, keeping her distance.The man pulled his hood back slowly, revealing a face she hadn’t seen in years. Her knees nearly buckled.“N
The echoes of the gala still clung to the inside of Melinda’s skull like an expensive perfume that wouldn’t fade. She sat in James’s penthouse now barefoot, her dress discarded on the chaise, wrapped in a silk robe. The city stretched out beneath her, glittering like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just exposed years of pain with a few razor-edged sentences.James stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped low around his waist. “You didn’t have to say all that,” he said, not accusing just observing.Melinda looked at him from the balcony seat. “Maybe not. But I wanted to.”He approached her slowly, water glistening on his chest. “You burned Andrew alive in front of everyone. His reputation won’t recover.”She gave a half smile. “Good.”James studied her. “You’re dangerous.”Melinda tilted her head, gaze sharp. “And you like that.”A small smile curved his lips. “I do.”But beneath the charged silence, something in James’s eyes had shifted. Subtle. Flickering. As though her words
The mansion buzzed with preparations.Stylists flitted through the halls like butterflies, carrying fabric swatches and makeup kits. A tailor adjusted the hem of James’s tuxedo, while Melinda sat still under a soft spotlight, her long black gown being fitted by a luxury designer flown in from Milan.Tonight was the gala.Tonight, they would face their ghosts in gowns and tuxedos.“You look like vengeance in silk,” James murmured as he walked into her dressing room, his voice low, eyes hooded.Melinda turned slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror. “Good. That’s the vibe.”He smirked, but there was pride in his gaze. “We’re going to own tonight.”She rose to her feet. The dress clung to her body like it had been poured over her. Off-shoulder, slit high, black as midnight. Paired with ruby lips and a diamond choker, she looked… expensive. Unreachable.The car ride to the gala was silent not uncomfortable, just simmering with electricity.James didn’t hold her hand this time.He
Melinda stood in front of the tall mirror, her fingers tugging nervously at the silk collar of her blouse. The courthouse was quiet that morning, almost eerily so. The sun filtered through the high windows like a silent witness to the union about to take place not one forged in love, but necessity, secrecy… and the ache of unspoken history.James stood beside her, impeccably dressed in a dark charcoal suit that hugged his form with authority. His tie was perfectly knotted, his face unreadable. But his eyes those sharp grey eyes flicked toward her every few seconds, as though trying to gauge what lay behind her practiced calm.The marriage certificate lay between them on the mahogany table, crisp and accusing.“This isn’t a real marriage,” Melinda said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s for the twins, for the public, for”“For protection,” James finished, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m not asking for love, Melinda. I’m asking for loyalty. For a united front.”The pen felt h
But an older man, silver-haired, sharp-eyed, seated behind a mahogany desk. His tailored suit was pristine, and he radiated the kind of authority that made the room feel colder.“Ms. Jameson,” he said, standing with a practiced smile. “A pleasure.”“Thank you for having me,” she said, voice even despite the discomfort prickling under her skin.“I’ve read your work impressive. We’re expanding our image and branding department. Our clientele list includes politicians, philanthropists… and high-profile business figures. We need someone discreet. Creative. Meticulous.”Melinda’s mouth went dry. Something told her this wasn’t just another gig.He pushed a folder across the table. “You come highly recommended.”She opened it and nearly choked.There, staring up at her in high definition, was a photo of James Locke.Alongside it: a press release draft about a potential run for state governor.Her stomach plummeted.“I’m sorry what is this?”“James is considering stepping into politics. The L