Betrayed in My Own Bed

"Sign it, Elowen," Killian said.

He slid the thirty-page document across the mahogany table. The thick stack of paper stopped right at my fingertips.

I scanned the bold print on the first page. *Marital Settlement Agreement.*

"You want the house," I said, keeping my voice small.

"I need the house," Killian corrected. He leaned back in his leather chair, adjusting his expensive tie. "Leo needs stability. You’re never there anyway. It makes sense for Blair and me to keep the primary residence."

"And the company equity?" I asked.

"All of it stays with me." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't get to walk away with the empire I built."

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. He built nothing. I bought that agency for him. I funded his initial payroll.

"What about Leo?" I asked.

"Full physical and legal custody goes to me," Killian stated. He didn't even blink. "You get one weekend a month. Supervised."

"Supervised?" I forced my voice to tremble. I let my shoulders slump, shrinking into the chair. "Killian, please. He's my baby."

"He calls Blair 'Mommy' now. You heard him."

I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing a single, pathetic tear down my cheek. "You're leaving me with nothing. Just a ten-thousand-dollar payout."

"Consider it severance," he sneered. "You should be grateful I’m not suing you for emotional damages. You were a terrible wife, El. Cold. Distant. I’m just taking what I deserve."

I buried my face in my hands. I let out a loud, broken sob.

Through my fingers, I watched his posture relax. His chest puffed out. The arrogant fool bought every second of my performance. He truly believed he had broken me.

"I can't fight you," I whispered. I dropped my hands and stared at the wood grain on the table. "I don't have the energy anymore. You win, Killian."

"Good." He tapped a gold pen against the document. "Have your lawyer review it. But don't try to change a single clause. If you do, I'll make sure you never see Leo again."

"I won't," I choked out. "Just... take care of him."

Killian stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Blair already is."

He walked out of the conference room without looking back.

The second the door clicked shut, my tears stopped. I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. My sadness evaporated, replaced by a freezing, sharp focus.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Gallagher.

"He took the bait," I said. "He thinks I'm defeated."

"Perfect," Gallagher replied. "That means they’ll let their guard down."

"They already are."

Three days later, I sat in the back of an unmarked sedan across from the Apex Solutions corporate building. Rain battered the windshield.

Miller sat in the driver's seat, monitoring a laptop screen.

"Your replacement is making quite the impression," Miller said. He pointed at the monitor.

He tapped a key, playing a recorded security feed from Killian’s executive suite.

Blair sat in Killian’s oversized chair, her feet propped on the glass desk. She wore a bright red designer dress. My designer dress. The one I bought in Paris last spring.

An older woman stood across from her, clutching a tablet. It was Margaret, the head of finance. I hired her seven years ago.

"I don't care about the quarterly projections, Margaret," Blair snapped through the audio feed. "I want my new office renovated by Monday."

"Ms. Blair, the budget doesn't allow for a fifty-thousand-dollar remodel right now," Margaret explained. "We have vendor payments due."

Blair slammed her hand on the desk. "Do you know who I am? I am the future Mrs. Killian. You work for me now. Pack your desk. You're fired."

Margaret stared in shock. "You can't do that."

Killian walked into the frame. He wrapped his arms around Blair’s shoulders from behind.

"Killian," Margaret pleaded. "Tell her."

"You heard my fiancée, Margaret," Killian said, kissing Blair’s cheek. "Security will escort you out."

I watched the screen fade to black.

"She fired three senior directors this week," Miller noted. He shut the laptop. "She's treating the corporation like her personal piggy bank. She even ordered the IT department to upgrade her personal phone on the company dime."

"And Killian is letting her," I said.

"He's completely blinded," Miller agreed. "He thinks he's invincible now that you've surrendered."

"It gets worse." Miller handed me a tablet. "Check the society blogs. From the Plaza Gala last night."

I swiped the screen. A video played.

Blair stood in front of a step-and-repeat banner, holding a champagne flute. She wore a diamond necklace. My diamond necklace. She leaned into a microphone held by a local reporter.

"It’s been so hard on little Leo," Blair said, pouting her lips. "Elowen just walked out on him. She only cared about her bank accounts. She never even hugged the poor boy. But I’m here now. I’m picking up the pieces."

The reporter gasped. "How tragic. And she really left him?"

"Completely abandoned him," Blair lied effortlessly. "But Killian and I are providing a loving home. True love always wins."

I handed the tablet back to Miller. My expression remained entirely neutral.

"She’s digging her own grave," I murmured. "Did you get into his laptop?"

Miller grinned. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver flash drive.

"He didn't even lock his office door while they were at the gala," Miller said. "Left the computer wide open on his desk. No passwords. No encryption. I walked right in wearing a janitor's uniform."

I took the drive. The metal felt heavy in my palm. "What's on it?"

"Everything," Miller replied. "Seven years of offshore wire transfers. The forged financing contracts for the Dubai suppliers. Tax evasion records."

"And the personal files?"

"Hundreds of photos and hotel receipts. Proving the affair started nearly two years ago. Long before you filed for divorce."

"Two years," I repeated.

My best friend. My husband. Two years of smiles, shared dinners, and lies. They had plotted this takeover right in front of my face.

"You have enough to put him in federal prison, Elowen," Miller said quietly. "And enough to leave her with absolutely nothing."

I gripped the flash drive tight enough to leave a red mark on my skin.

"Gallagher has the divorce papers ready," I said. "Killian thinks we’re signing his version tomorrow morning at the firm."

"Are you going to confront them?"

"I'm going to destroy them."

I looked out the window. The rain washed the city streets clean.

"Drive me to Gallagher's office," I ordered. "We need to prepare the final filings."

Miller shifted the car into gear. We pulled away from the curb.

My phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out.

A message from Killian lit up the screen.

*Bring the signed papers tomorrow at 9 AM. Don't be late. Leo is calling Blair 'Mom' now. It's for the best.*

I stared at the text. A slow, cold smile crept onto my face.

I typed my reply.

*I'll be there. I have a surprise for you both.*

I hit send and turned my phone off.

Tomorrow, the charade would end. Tomorrow, Killian would learn exactly what happens when you try to steal from a woman who built the vault.

I slipped the flash drive into my pocket.

But as we approached the intersection, a black SUV suddenly swerved into our lane, cutting us off completely.

Miller slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the wet pavement.

"What the hell?" Miller shouted.

Four men in dark suits stepped out of the SUV. They walked straight toward my window.