---- Chapter 16 Ethan sat at the head of the conference table, his eyes scanning the faces of his most trusted staff. They shifted uncomfortably under his cold, furious gaze. "One of you betrayed me," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "One of you helped my wife forge my signature on these divorce papers." He slapped the document on the table. A young paralegal from his legal team started to tremble. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. Ethan's gaze locked onto her. "You," he said, pointing a finger. "In my office. Now." She burst into tears, her composure crumbling. "It wasn't me!" she sobbed, as his security guards flanked her. "| mean... | didn't forge anything! It was Miss Hayes! She made me do it!" Ethan's blood ran cold. Olivia? In his office, the story came tumbling out. Olivia, desperate and vengeful after he had discarded her, had orchestrated the whole thing. She had paid the paralegal to slip the divorce papers into a stack of routine documents for him to sign. He had signed his own freedom away without even realizing it. But that wasn't all ---- "She... she also had me get something for her," the paralegal stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "A drug. From a... discreet pharmacy. She said it was for Mrs. Vance's food." Ethan felt a surge of rage so powerful it made him see red. "What kind of drug?" "Something to... to make her infertile," the girl whispered, her face ashen. He remembered Sarah's sudden illness, her pale face, the cramps she had tried to hide. It hadn't been an act. Olivia had been poisoning his wife right under his nose. The dose had been small, the paralegal insisted, not enough for permanent damage, but the intent was monstrous. He slammed his fist on his desk, the force of the blow splitting the wood. He grabbed the paralegal by the collar of her blouse, his face inches from hers. "Tell me everything," he snarled. "Everything Olivia did." He had his security team drag a terrified Olivia from her penthouse apartment. He sat her down in the same conference room and presented her with a file, a detailed account of all her schemes and betrayals, compiled by his ruthless investigative team. He had found out about her role in the car accident-the drunken rage, the deliberate collision. He had found out she had paid off a nurse at the nursing home to "accidentally" shove his grandmother down the stairs. He had been a fool. A blind, arrogant fool. He had believed ---- Olivia's lies, protected her, and in doing so, he had driven away the only person who had ever truly mattered. He had tortured Sarah for crimes she didn't commit, while the real monster sat at his table, wearing his jewels. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing the air from his lungs. He hadn't just been cruel; he had been unjust. He had failed to protect her. He had become the very thing he despised. "There's more, sir," Daniel Chen said, stepping forward. He had been silent throughout the interrogation, his face a mask of grim resolve. "The divorce papers... they weren't mailed from a law office. They were mailed from a funeral home." Daniel handed him another envelope. Inside was a death certificate for a Jane Doe, found dead from an apparent suicide by drowning. Her description matched Sarah's. There was also a suicide note, written in her familiar, elegant script. Ethan, | can't do this anymore. You've taken everything from me. My daughter, my grandmother, my will to live. | hope you're happy. You've finally broken me. Don't look for me. By the time you read this, I'll be free. He stared at the note, his hands shaking. He recognized the words from the night he'd pulled her from the pool, her desperate plea to be let go. "No," he whispered, his voice a ragged breath. "No, it's a trick. It's another one of her games." ---- Daniel placed a small, velvet box on the table. The box that had held his grandmother's ashes. Inside, nestled on the satin lining, was her wedding ring. The one he had seen her flush down the toilet. She must have retrieved it. A final, symbolic gesture. He couldn't breathe. The room was closing in on him. This couldn't be happening. She wouldn't just give up. She was a fighter. He bolted from the room, pushing past his shocked employees, a wild, primal denial screaming in his mind. He ran out into the street, not knowing where he was going. She couldn't be dead. He refused to accept it. She wouldn't leave him. Not like this. "Get the car!" he roared at his driver. "Take me to the funeral home. Now!" He had to see for himself. He had to prove it was a lie. He clung to that sliver of hope, a drowning man reaching for a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea.