Burning the Prenup Julian Signed With My Sister

The brass doorknob turned.

I darted to the right, sliding behind the heavy velvet drapes just as the wood swung inward. The thick fabric swallowed me whole. I held my breath, pressing my spine flat against the cold window glass.

Footsteps pounded across the Persian rug.

"Where is it?" Julian muttered.

Papers rustled. The heavy leather dictionary hit the desk with a dull thud.

"Got it. Fucking finally."

The drawer slammed shut. His footsteps retreated, fast and heavy. The door clicked closed.

I stepped out from the curtains. The study was empty. The decoy envelope was gone.

I crossed the room and pushed the glass balcony doors open a fraction. The morning air hit my face, cool and sharp.

Down below, Julian marched across the stone patio. He bypassed the marble fountain and headed straight for the massive rose bushes at the edge of the property.

Mia stepped out from the shadows of the wooden trellis.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. I swiped to the camera, switched to video mode, and hit record. I zoomed in until their faces filled the screen. Through the cracked glass of the balcony door, their voices drifted up to me.

"You got the fucking papers?" Mia asked.

She reached for his chest, but he slapped her hands away.

"Right here," Julian said. He tapped his breast pocket. "The entire Mercer estate, signed over to me."

"Show me."

"Are you stupid? Not out in the open." Julian glanced over his shoulder, scanning the empty lawn. "We take this to the lawyers at noon. Once the ink is verified, we lock Lily out of every single bank account."

"And her mother?"

"I handled the old woman yesterday," Julian sneered. "She barely knew what day it was. She signed everything."

"And then?"

"Then I dump Lily in a psychiatric ward." Julian adjusted his collar, wincing as the fabric brushed his burned skin. "She threw boiling tea at me this morning. She's clearly a fucking danger to herself."

Mia laughed. A sharp, grating sound that scraped against my eardrums.

"You're brilliant," she said. "How much do I get?"

"Twenty percent. Like we agreed."

"Thirty."

"Excuse me?"

"Thirty percent, Julian." Mia stepped closer. She pressed her chest directly against his ruined, tea-stained shirt. "I kept her distracted for two fucking years while you drained her trust fund. I lied to my own father. I earned thirty."

Julian grabbed her waist. His fingers dug violently into her hips.

"Don't push me, Mia."

"Or what?" She tilted her head back, exposing her throat. "You're going to poison me too?"

"I might."

"You won't." She traced a fingernail down his jawline. "You like fucking me too much."

Julian growled, a harsh, guttural sound.

He crushed his mouth against hers. It wasn't romantic. It was violent, messy, and vulgar.

Mia hooked her arms around his neck, pulling his face down. She opened her mouth wide, taking his tongue, her hands tangling in his perfectly styled hair.

"Fuck," Julian muttered against her lips.

He shoved her backward. Her spine hit the wooden trellis hard enough to shake the rose bushes. Pink petals rained down on their shoulders.

Julian grabbed her thigh, hiking her bare leg up around his hip. He ground his pelvis against hers, his hand squeezing her ass hard enough to leave bruises.

Mia moaned loudly. "Right here. Fucking do it."

"Anyone could see us," Julian panted, his mouth moving down to bite her neck.

"I don't care. I want you."

He shoved his hand up her skirt. Mia let out a sharp gasp, tilting her hips forward to meet his fingers.

"Fuck, Julian," she breathed.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Don't stop."

A violent spasm ripped through my stomach. Bile rose in my throat, thick and bitter.

I watched the man I almost married devour my step-sister like a starving dog.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

I just held the phone. My fingers clamped around the metal edges. I squeezed until the pressure shot up my forearms. The skin stretched tight across my knuckles, turning a stark, dead white.

"Wait," Mia gasped, tearing her mouth away.

"What?" Julian snapped.

"Wait until the money clears."

"I want you right fucking now."

"Noon," Mia insisted. She didn't lower her leg. "Once Lily is locked away, we can do whatever we want in her fucking bed."

"I'm going to rip those designer dresses off you," he promised.

"Good. Make sure you use her credit card to buy me new ones."

Julian chuckled darkly. He kissed her again, his hand sliding up her thigh, bunching her silk skirt around her waist.

"We're going to be so fucking rich," Mia whispered against his mouth.

"Filthy rich."

The red numbers on my screen ticked upward.

Two minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Two minutes and fifty-six.

I tracked every movement. Every disgusting, vulgar word. This video was the nail in their coffins. It was the proof I needed to destroy them both in front of the board of directors. They thought they had won. They thought I was a blind, obedient fool.

Two minutes and fifty-eight.

Two minutes and fifty-nine.

Three minutes.

A low battery warning suddenly flashed across my screen. The pop-up blocked the camera view, pausing the frame on Mia's smeared lipstick.

I tapped the screen to dismiss it.

The software lagged.

I tapped it again, harder.

The phone froze.

Then, a sudden, blinding beam of white light erupted from the back of my device.

The flash.

It cut through the dim morning shadows of the balcony like a spotlight, beaming straight down into the garden.

Down by the rose bushes, Julian froze.

Mia dropped her leg.

Both of them snapped their heads up, staring directly at my balcony.