I was sitting in the living room when she walked in. In the exact spot where she’d terrorized my children that morning.
“Alexander? You’re home? I thought—”
“I never left, Chloe,” I said. “I’ve been in the security room all day. Watching.”
I watched her face do the thing Marisol’s had not done — flinch, calculate, scramble.
“Whatever you think you saw—”
“I saw you call my daughters brats. I saw you throw Sofia’s rabbit — her dead mother’s last gift to her — onto a shelf to make a six-year-old beg. I saw you grab her wrist. I saw Marisol, the woman you told me was a thief, put her own body between my children and you.
And then I watched three weeks of footage of you planting your own earrings and cash to frame her, so I’d fire the only person protecting my daughters from you.
You didn’t want to marry me, Chloe. You wanted my life, and my children were in the way, and you had a plan to remove the one adult who’d notice what you were doing to them.
