Vivian took a step closer, voice dripping contempt.
“You can’t possibly love a monster like him. Look at him — scarred, reclusive, twisted inside and out. No woman in her right mind would choose that willingly. This marriage is a fraud, and when I’m done, the entire estate will still be mine.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough for her to feel triumphant.
“You know what?” I said softly, almost conversationally. “You’re right. I shouldn’t love a monster like Ben, should I? He lied to me. Manipulated me. Hurt me terribly. Tricked me into signing a contract that bound my life to his.”
Vivian’s eyes lit with vicious glee. She whirled on Ben, practically crowing.
“I knew it! You pathetic, desperate?—”
“But,” I cut in, voice like a blade, “as it happens, I do love Ben. Despite everything he put me through, despite every mistake he made, I love him. We married because we choose each other, not because of the clause, not because of the money. Because we want to. So you lose, you fucking greedy bitch.”
The satisfaction of watching her triumph curdle into shock was one hundred percent worth every tear I’d cried over the last twelve days.
Vivian’s face twisted into something feral. Realization crashed over her — she’d been played, baited into revealing exactly how much she hated us both.
“You little?—”
She lunged at Ben, hand raised high, manicured nails ready to rake across his scarred cheek.
I was faster.
I caught her wrist mid-swing, twisted hard, and yanked her arm up behind her back in one smooth motion, making a mental note to thank Henry later for the crash course in self-defense he’d given me while Vivian was on her way here. She yelped, stumbling forward, but I didn’t release my grip.
“You will not lay a finger on my husband,” I growled into her ear, tightening my grip until she gasped. “So help me God. Haven’t you already hurt him enough?”
She struggled, but I had leverage and fury on my side.
“I know you tampered with his brakes,” I said, loud and clear for every microphone in the house. “I know you caused his accident. I know you tried to pull the plug while he was in a coma. And I know you murdered his father by messing with his medications until his heart gave out.”
Vivian went very still, then laughed, the sound high, reckless, unhinged.
“Yeah,” she spat, “I fucking did it. I did all of it. And I’ll do even more. My lawyers are going to eviscerate you both in court. You’ll wish?—”
I leaned close, smile sharp as broken glass.
“Oh, you think so?”
From the shadows of the hallway, Henry stepped forward, phone in hand, expression calm and utterly satisfied.
“Recording stopped,” he announced. “Audio and video saved to the cloud — and already emailed to Sheriff Delgado, along with a time-stamped copy of the full security feed.”
Vivian’s head snapped toward him, eyes widening with raw panic.
“You can’t?—”
Henry lifted a hand in signal. The front door opened immediately — two Baldwin County deputies and Sheriff Delgado himself strode in, badges glinting under the chandelier. They’d been parked just out of sight down the drive, waiting for Henry’s text.
“Vivian Leigh Rogers-Stonewood,” the sheriff said, voice flat and official, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Jacob Stonewood, attempted murder of Benjamin Stonewood, and conspiracy to commit fraud.”
Vivian went berserk.
She jerked against my hold so violently I nearly lost my grip.
“This is bullshit! You have nothing! I’ll have your badges — let go of me!”
I released her, stepping back beside Ben. She spun, swinging wildly at the nearest deputy. He dodged; she lunged again, nails clawing for his face.
