From the sink. Fromthatnight.
“You thought you were a sleepwalker?” Jack snarls, leveling the weapon at me. “That was me, sweetheart. Every time. I moved things. I smeared blood on the counter and made sure you had bruises you wouldn’t remember. You were supposed to fall apart, Ellie. You were supposed to beg me for help.”
I don’t flinch. I see the madness behind his eyes now. The desperation.
“You didn’t need help,” he continues, the contempt undisguised. “You needed to bereplaced.” A cold smirk splits his face. “Did you really think what we had was love, Ellie? Do you really think I could love a plain, awkward, simple girl like you?”
I stand stock-still, his words a toxic onslaught that tenses every muscle of my body as I look down the barrel of his gun.
He knows he’s hitting his mark, so he continues. “Every moment was orchestrated. An elaborate plan to keep you controlled, right down to our first meeting. Did you really fall for that fated lovers bullshit? You’re more naïve than I thought. Your father paid me to woo you, keep you controlled, and then I got a bonus when you agreed to marry me.”
“Why would he think to do that?”
“To keep you safe. He knew you were like your mother. You were a liability to his business, his money, his reputation. All women are. We had to keep you happy and, most importantly, out of the way so business could continue as usual. Anyway, he couldn’t have you marrying just anyone. This family is too powerful, El, too connected. The family secrets are too delicate to just have you running off to marry some loser for love.” His laugh is as cold as ice. Everything was going to be perfect, until now. Until you got that invitation and nearly ruined everything,” he rants, waving the gun at me. “You were supposed to sleepwalk yourself into a padded cell—”
He’s unraveling. I glance toward the front door. Any second now.
“And then Aubrey and I were supposed to—”
“Aubrey?” I raise an eyebrow. “You think she was on your side?”
Jack freezes.
I step closer. Slowly. Controlled.
“I told you. I senteverything.And I made sure not to do it alone.”
He lowers the gun a fraction. Confused.
“You think you’re the only one who can play people, Jack?” Itilt my head. “You’re just a con man who finally got outplayed.”
BANG BANG BANG!
The pounding on the door rips through the moment.
“NYPD! Open up!”
Jack’s eyes widen. The blood drains from his face. He turns toward the door like a panicked animal looking for a way out.
Too late.
The door bursts open.
Three officers rush in, weapons drawn. Jack drops the gun, too stunned to run.
“Hands on your head! Down on the ground!”
He goes limp. Crumples. Cuffs click around his wrists. The officers haul him up, reading him his rights. He says nothing. His jaw is clenched tight. I stand perfectly still in the center of the room, hair wild, mascara smudged just enough to play the part. The devastated wife. The survivor.
One of the officers gives me a sharp nod of respect. “You’re safe now, Mrs. Taylor.”
I nod, expression soft. Dazed. But inside, I’m smiling. They find the laptop. The hidden camera hubs. The false passport and financial documents. It’s all exactly where I said it would be.
Jack is dragged through the hallway in cuffs, seething. His gaze finds mine, wild with disbelief.
“You—” he chokes. “You did this.”
I step toward him slowly, the smile now blooming across my face. “No, Jack.Youdid this. I just showed them the footage.”
