Chapter 6 - The Morning Routine
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Packing Richard’s suitcase the next morning required a level of psychological dissociation I didn't know I possessed.
I stood in his massive walk-in closet, carefully folding his custom-tailored shirts and selecting the silk ties he preferred for "business meetings." I ran my hands over the expensive fabrics, imagining the other woman unbuttoning them in a house paid for with marital funds.
“You’re a lifesaver, Vic,” Richard called out from the bedroom, adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror. “I don't know what I’d do without you keeping this place running.”
“You’d be lost without me,” I agreed smoothly, zipping the garment bag shut.
He walked over, taking the bag from my hands, and kissed my cheek. It felt like the brush of a ghost. “I’ll call you from the hotel tonight. Tell Stella I love her.”
“I will. Have a safe flight.”
I watched from the front window as his black town car pulled away from the curb. The moment the taillights disappeared around the corner of Park Avenue, I moved into action.
I didn't spend the day crying, and I didn't spend it drinking wine in a dark room. I dressed in a sharp, understated gray pantsuit, pulled my hair into a severe knot, and retrieved the external hard drive from its hiding place.
I had no intention of confronting Richard with tears and accusations. In the corporate world Richard worshipped, emotion was a liability, and leverage was the only currency that mattered. If I confronted him now, he would freeze our accounts, hire an army of aggressive lawyers, and use his massive wealth to bury me in family court. He would ensure Stella and I were left with nothing while he moved Evelyn into the penthouse.
I needed to secure my daughter's future before I detonated the bomb.
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I hailed a taxi and gave the driver an address in the financial district, far away from Horizon Prime Developers. I was going to see a man who specialized in dismantling empires.
As the city blurred past the window, I looked at my reflection in the glass. The loving, oblivious housewife was dead. What remained was a woman holding enough secrets to burn Richard Vance to the ground.
