All Chapters of My Millionaire Husband’s Secret: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

We waited in absolute silence, the kind that felt heavy and oppressive, as if the air itself were holding its breath with us. The only sound in the SUV was the faint hum of the engine and the low crackle of static from the speakers hanging on Jessie’s every word. All we needed was for Alan to answer. One word from him—one admission—and Blaire would no longer be untouchable or he, himself would be compromised. If he so much as hinted at her involvement, we could bring her in for questioning. One step closer to justice. One step closer to closing this nightmare.“Yes.”The word was quiet, but it landed like a hammer against glass.“We got her,” I exclaim, the tension inside me snapping all at once. My pulse roared in my ears. Now all that remained was finding her.Lincoln lets out a slow, weighted breath behind me, the kind you release when you’ve been holding it for far too long.“Wait—she’s still going,” Miller interjects, lifting a warning hand and pulling our attention sharply back

Jessie!” My voice echoes through the concrete parking garage as I rush toward her car. The overhead lights buzz softly, throwing pale reflections across the hood as I pull her into my arms. I tuck my face into her hair, breathing her in like I need the proof that she’s here, that she’s safe. “You okay?”“I–I don’t know,” she answers faintly. Her voice is thin, stretched tight with everything she’s holding back.“You did great,” Pennet says gently, his tone firm with reassurance as he steps closer.“You handled yourself very well, Jessie,” Miller adds as we begin moving toward the elevator. “I know that was tough, but you should be proud of yourself.”The elevator doors slide open with a dull chime, and we file in together. The air feels heavy, thick with everything that was just said and everything that still hasn’t been processed.“We heard the whole conversation from the recording device,” I admit quietly, glancing at her reflected in the mirrored wall. “How do you feel about his pr

I take longer than necessary to change my clothes in the restroom, deliberately slow with every movement—peeling fabric from skin, smoothing wrinkles that don’t matter—just to gift myself a few quiet seconds to breathe. The fluorescent lights hum faintly above me, too bright, too sterile, as if the room itself is waiting for me to unravel. I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman staring back. I’m barely a shadow of who I once was.Alan resented me because of a lie his father fed him before he took his own life—a lie that festered unchecked, growing into something poisonous. That resentment followed us into our marriage, shaping the way he looked at me, spoke to me, punished me. It gave him permission, in his mind, to torment me. To cheat on me relentlessly with my half-sister—Blaire—the sister I never even knew existed.And when betrayal wasn’t enough, he tried to make me appear unstable. Unwell. Crazy. Another weapon in his arsenal to silence me, to grind me down until

“You really did great today. I’m proud of you,” Lincoln says as he tidies up the living room, gathering empty cups and straightening the pillows. “And I’m also proud of you for deciding to seek out therapy. I really think that’ll be good for your recovery.“I think so too.” I nod, reaching into the folder on the coffee table and pulling out the resource list the nurse gave me. “There’s a psychologist on here that comes highly recommended—great reviews and everything. She specializes in several areas, including anxiety and PTSD therapy.” I hand the paper to Lincoln.He scans it for a moment. “Her office isn’t far from here either. Psy.D. Specialist Rebecca Smithsdale… looks like she’s been in practice for a long time.”“That’s good, right?” I ask quietly.“It’s very good,” he replies with a reassuring nod. “How about we give her a call now and see if we can get you in tomorrow for an initial intake?”My stomach tightens instantly. “Lincoln… you don’t think she’ll lock me away, right?”

Another day in the sergeant’s office—but at least this time, we finally have something solid to bring with us.Mike and I take our seats across from the desk just as the sergeant finishes doctoring his coffee for the third time this morning. The sharp smell of caffeine hangs heavy in the air. Not that he’ll need it to deal with Mike today… I’m actually the one bracing myself for once.“You boys better have something,” he warns as he lowers himself into his chair, lifting his mug for a long sip, “or it’s traffic duty for six months. Both of you.”“We have a solid lead on both attacks,” I begin calmly. “The victim’s husband confessed that his mistress orchestrated them. He also provided us with the mistress’s identity.”The sergeant’s eyes sharpen immediately. “Do you have anything to back that theory up?”“Yes, sir.” Pennet slides his phone across the desk. “I have a full audio recording of the victim’s conversation with her husband. He was unaware he was being recorded.”The sergeant