He slid into bed, dropped his arm carelessly across her waist, and told her to get some rest—as if he hadn’t just spent the night talking about her like she was a slow-witted child.
The next morning, Lucas was exactly who he’d always been, dressed in his flawless tailored suit, sipping coffee with a splash of cream, newspaper tucked under his arm.
He had that infuriating, entitled way of asking for his breakfast as though the whole world were his personal staff, and he didn’t give her so much as a lingering glance or a second’s pause.
Margot watched him eat his toast and finally grasped something devastating: for years, she’d mistaken empty routine for love, oppressive silence for stability, and obedience for peace.
Once he’d left the house in the gated Pine Ridge community, she stepped into his private study for the first time in her life.
She pulled open the heavy desk drawer, then the next, and the next, until she found exactly what she was after—a thick, hidden file laying out his entire plan.
There were bank statements, private investment records, and huge money transfers she’d known nothing about, along with copies of contracts that left her stunned.
She found the original receipt for the heirloom jewelry she’d been pushed to sell while Lucas was in the hospital for his heart, plus the loan papers for the heavy-duty truck he’d sworn was strictly for business.
And buried in the very back, she found records of her own book royalties—money that had been quietly funneled for years into secret accounts that only he controlled.
Two nights later, she was back in the hallway when she heard him on his burner phone, using that same cold, calculating voice.