The Silent Trophy Wife's Lethal Comeback

Harrison handed Holmes a cigar on the terrace. He pointed the glowing tip toward the garden, where Victoria was interrogating Dennie about flower arrangements.

"She's hiding something," Harrison said. "I had her vetted again. Her background is too clean. It's a ghost file."

Holmes lit his cigar. "I'll handle her."

"No," Harrison said. "You will utilize her. We need those genes. Breed her. Get me an heir."

Holmes felt a wave of revulsion, but he nodded. The vote was everything.

Inside, Dennie excused herself to the powder room. She locked the door and pulled a burner phone from her sock.

She texted Liam, her handler. Plan B required. Location: Hamptons. Compromised.

She waited. One minute. Two.

Nothing. Liam had been dark for three days.

Panic clawed at her throat. She splashed cold water on her face. You are on your own.

Lunch was an ordeal. A long table, heavy silver. Holmes sat next to Dennie. He put on a show, placing a hand on her thigh under the table.

Dennie smiled at Vanessa, and stomped on Holmes's foot with her heel. Hard.

He didn't even blink. Under the table, his hand moved, his fingers digging into her muscle. A warning.

"Dennie," Vanessa tried again. "Since you know kung fu, maybe you can perform for us?"

She set down her fork. "It's self-defense, Vanessa. It only works if someone is trying to hurt me."

The threat hung in the air. Vanessa shut up.

After lunch, Felix pulled Holmes aside. "We tracked her movements. Every week, she goes to a cyber café in Queens. She stays for ten minutes."

Holmes narrowed his eyes. "She's transmitting data. She's a corporate spy."

It made sense. The clean background. The skills. She was a plant from Knowles Energy. Or his cousin.

He decided to break her.

That evening, a storm rolled in. Rain lashed the windows.

"The east wing guest rooms are being renovated," Victoria announced. "Holmes, you and Dennie will take the master suite in the east wing."

Her blood ran cold. The east wing was isolated. No exits.

Holmes looked at Dennie. He saw the fear and mistook it for guilt. "Problem, darling? Don't want to share a bed with your husband?"

"I have my period," she lied through her teeth.

Holmes leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "You finished last week. I see the receipts for the supplies Mrs. Higgins buys. Don't lie to me."

He gripped her arm and marched her up the stairs.

Mrs. Higgins was waiting at the door with a key. She looked like a warden.

They walked in.