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Love Is Dead, Caleb Novel Cover

Love Is Dead, Caleb

After sacrificing her face, career, and fertility to build Caleb's fame, she is utterly betrayed. On his night of triumph, he honors her attacker, while her own son plots her murder. Presumed dead in a hospital fire, she survives. Three years later, she returns as a ruthless capital mogul. When her kneeling ex-husband and begging son plead for mercy, her cold response seals their fate: her family died long ago.
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Chapter 3

"Violet?" the high-pitched voice purred. "It's Jade. We really need to talk about your husband."

I stared at the blank wall of the guest room.

"Oh, Jade," I answered, injecting pure honey into my voice. "I'm so relieved you called. Caleb told me about your medical emergency. Are you recovering?"

A heavy pause filled the line. She clearly expected me to scream.

"I... yes. But about Caleb. He was with me last night."

"I know! He's such a dedicated boss," I chirped. "He told me how terrified you were. It's so sweet of him to check on his staff."

"Staff?" Jade's voice sharpened. "Violet, you don't understand. We have a connection."

"You must be exhausted," I interrupted, keeping my tone flawlessly polite. "Get some rest, sweetie. We can chat when you're feeling less fragile."

I tapped the red button. The line went dead.

She wanted a screaming match. I gave her a brick wall.

Hours later, I returned from the dance studio. My right arm throbbed under fresh gauze, but marking choreography kept my mind sharp.

I unlocked the front door of our villa. The foyer sat in total darkness.

A low voice drifted from the terrace.

I slipped my flats off. I padded across the hardwood, stopping just behind the sheer curtains of the French doors.

"I'm telling you, Marcus, I'm losing my mind," Caleb grumbled. Ice clinked against glass.

"She's a professional ballerina," Marcus's voice buzzed through the phone speaker. "Most guys would kill for a wife like Violet."

Caleb scoffed. "Then they can have her. She's a dull, uninteresting burden to my career."

My nails bit into my palms.

"Every time we go to a dinner, the press only wants to talk about her," Caleb continued, pacing the stone tiles. "At home, the attention is all on Violet. I just won the regional cup! But no, everyone only cares about her upcoming tour."

"She pays the mortgage, man," Marcus pointed out.

"She thinks she's so special because she dances on her toes," Caleb sneered. "But she's useless as a wife. She won't even go to the club with me anymore. Just sits at home, icing her joints. I'm sick of this marriage."

"Careful. A divorce will ruin your reputation."

"Not if I control the narrative. I already transferred the offshore funds. Jade actually looks at me like I'm a god."

A cold smile stretched across my face. I didn't scream. I didn't throw his whiskey in his face.

I stepped backward, opened the heavy oak front door, and slammed it shut.

"Caleb? I'm home!" I called out, pitching my voice light and airy.

He rushed in from the terrace, shoving his phone into his pocket. Guilt flashed across his features. He quickly masked it with a scowl.

"You're back late," he snapped. "I thought you were on medical leave."

"Just doing some light stretching." I walked over and straightened his collar. "Did I interrupt your call?"

He flinched, pulling away from my touch. "Talking strategy with Marcus. Tennis stuff. You wouldn't understand."

"You work so hard," I murmured. "Do you want me to draw you a bath?"

He stared at me. He searched my eyes for the anger from yesterday. Finding only a compliant, smiling wife, his tense shoulders dropped.

"No. I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me up early."

"I won't."

I watched him walk upstairs. Every lie he told just made my job easier.

The next morning, Caleb stood in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting his expensive watch.

"Did you pack my recovery shakes?" he asked, not looking at me.

"In the side pocket of your bag," I answered, handing him his keys.

"Make sure you pick up my dry cleaning today. And don't forget to call my mother. She wants to know if we're attending the summer gala."

"I'll handle it."

He finally turned to me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're awfully quiet today."

"Just tired," I lied smoothly. "My arm still hurts."

He rolled his eyes. "Always complaining. Take an aspirin. I'll be back at noon."

The moment his car pulled out of the driveway, I sat at my vanity and opened my laptop. Ethan had moved fast.

My inbox chimed. A secure folder arrived from the private investigator.

I clicked the first audio file. It was intercepted from the tennis club's locker room.

"Caleb, someone will hear us," Jade whimpered. Her voice echoed off tiled walls.

"Let them," Caleb groaned. Fabric rustled loudly. "I need you right now. Violet is driving me insane."

"You promised you'd leave her."

"I will. Just give me time to drain the joint accounts. She won't get a single dime."

I closed the audio player. My pulse remained perfectly steady.

I opened the next document. Financial ledgers.

Caleb had been funneling tournament winnings into a shell corporation registered under Jade's brother's name. Hundreds of thousands of dollars, hidden right under my nose.

My phone vibrated. Ethan.

"Did you review the files?" he asked.

"Every page," I replied. "He's hiding the endorsement money."

"I heard the bathroom tapes," Ethan said, his voice flat. "I'm sorry, Violet."

"Don't be. It's leverage."

"He's sloppy. He used his primary club access card to enter the private showers with her. We have timestamps matching the audio."

"Good. Keep digging into his sponsors. I want to know who pays him the most."

"Titan Athletics. They have a strict morality clause in his contract."

"Perfect. Flag that contract. When the time comes, we send everything to them."

"We have enough to freeze his assets right now. Say the word, and I'll file the motion."

"Not yet. I want him to feel secure. Let him transfer the rest of the tournament winnings next week."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Violet. If he catches on, he'll hide the rest overseas."

"He won't catch on. He thinks I'm an idiot."

I hung up. I organized the files into a hidden encrypted folder on my hard drive. Every piece of evidence was a nail in his coffin.

Caleb returned at noon. He tossed his gym bag onto the sofa.

"I invited Marcus and a few guys over for dinner tonight," he announced. He grabbed an apple from the marble counter. "Make that lemon chicken they like."

"Of course," I said, wiping down the island.

"And Violet?"

I looked up.

"Wear something conservative. You embarrassed me last time."

I smiled warmly. "Whatever you say, honey."

He took a bite of his apple and walked away, completely oblivious to the trap closing around him.

I looked back at my phone. A new text from Jade lit up the screen.

*Jade: I'm coming to the dinner tonight. Caleb invited me. We need to get everything out in the open.*

I locked the screen.

Perfect.

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