Chapter 5

Olivia's POV

Damien was even colder than I'd anticipated.

It looked like I'd have to find another opportunity.

When the gala finally wrapped, I was stranded, wondering how I'd get home, when a black Cadillac Escalade purred to a stop in front of me.

The driver's side window slid down, and Ethan's personal driver peered out. "Mrs. Smith, Mr. Smith sent me to take you home."

Would he be so kind?

A knot of suspicion tightened in my gut, but I slid into the leather backseat. I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a courtesy, but a summons.

Half an hour later, the car pulled up to the villa.

A tall figure was silhouetted against the front door, looking like he'd been waiting for a while.

It was Ethan.

He stormed toward me, his lips pressed into a thin, furious line. His face was flushed and bloated, making him look like a hungover vagrant. The overpowering stench of alcohol hit me in a wave; he was clearly wasted.

"Stay away from me," I muttered, the smell threatening to bring on a wave of nausea.

Ethan's hand clamped around my wrist. He yanked me out of the car with shocking force, dragging me into the living room. His grip was a steel trap, and I couldn't break free. All I could do was subtly twist my body to shield my stomach, a desperate, instinctual move to protect the baby.

"How do you know Damien?" He snarled.

"Damien? I have no idea what you're talking about."

I let a theatrical yawn escape. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."

Ethan just stood there, his jaw slack with disbelief.

Seeing him so thrown off balance was a small, satisfying victory. It was so gratifying, in fact, that the morning sickness churning in my stomach actually subsided a little.

Just then, a soft, raspy voice called my name from behind. "Olivia."

Sophia, shoulders hunched, hobbled to the base of the stairs, leaning heavily on a crutch. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, and she looked like a startled little animal. "Please, don't fight with Ethan," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "It's all my fault. You wanted me to kneel for you, didn't you? I'll do it. I'll kneel right now, just please, make up with him."

With that, she bent her knees, preparing to sink to the floor.

"Don't," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I couldn't possibly be responsible for that precious body of yours."

I took a deliberate step to the side. In an almost comical move, Sophia shuffled to follow me, her act of contrition unwavering. "I'm being sincere," she insisted, no crocodile tears this time.

Her knees hit the marble floor with a dull, sickening thud.

She kept her head bowed, mumbling something incoherent.

I wasn't buying this performance for a second. "And what's your sincerity worth, exactly?"

"Olivia, don't push your luck!"

Ethan's fury erupted. He rushed to Sophia's side, gently helping her to her feet. 

He cradled her in his arms, his face contorted with rage as he glared at me. He looked like a demon clawed straight out of hell.

"Sophia's ankle is still injured, and you have to torment her like this?" He spat, his voice a low, vicious snarl, as if he wanted to tear me limb from limb. "Besides, it wasn't entirely her fault. Don't take it too far!"

He angled his body to shield her, his hands protectively on her shoulders, afraid she might get another scratch.

"She got injured because of her own scheming," I said, my voice flat. "It has nothing to do with me." If she hadn't tried to frame me, she wouldn't have twisted her ankle. Simple as that.

"She already apologized to you!"

Arguing with Ethan was like trying to reason with a rabid dog; he just snapped at anyone in his path.

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the wall, and gave them both a slow shake of my head. "You call that an apology?"

A muscle in Ethan's jaw twitched, and the sound of his teeth grinding was audible. "Olivia, don't be unreasonable. Her injury hasn't healed. Are you really going to be this ruthless?"

"This is ruthless?"

Sophia was more fragile than a soap bubble.

A cold laugh escaped my lips as I glided past him. As I passed, I dropped my voice to a whisper, just for him. "I'm telling you, this is far from over."

What I wanted was to see both of them ruined, their reputations in ashes.

My complete dismissal of him was more than Ethan's ego could handle. He followed me up the stairs, but I slammed the bedroom door in his face.

It had only been a day, but I could swear the baby in my belly had already grown. I couldn't drag this out. Soon, the pregnancy would be impossible to hide. The divorce was becoming urgent.

My mind raced, keeping me from a decent night's sleep.

To make sure Aiden didn't bolt, I didn't call ahead. I drove straight to his clinic and waited in his office.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Evans walked in. He froze, his first instinct clearly to run. I lunged forward, pressing his hand down on the doorknob. "Dr. Evans. I need a favor."

"What do you want?" He squeaked, his voice trembling. He stumbled backward, his hip knocking against the corner of his desk.

I held out my hand, getting straight to the point. "Give me the IVF consent form."

"Why do you want that?"

Dr. Evans was shaking like a cornered rat, half his body hidden behind the door.

"You don't need to worry about that."

I opened my purse and reached inside. The movement sent Aiden into a panic. He scrambled to his desk, yanking open a drawer and rummaging through it frantically. Just as my patience was wearing thin, he produced a manila folder.

I raised an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly.

Aiden nodded frantically, his face pale and his jowls quivering. "Don't pull out a gun! It might go off by accident!"

What a coward.

I rolled my eyes, snatched the folder from his hand, and checked the contents. It was, indeed, the consent form I had seen before.

My gaze locked onto his, and he flinched, unable to meet my eyes. "About my visit today…"

Aiden's hands shot up in surrender. "Don't worry," he stammered, his face ashen. "I won't tell a soul. I swear."

I wasn't too worried about him talking. Not unless he had a death wish.

Securing the folder in my bag, I drove to the office.

With this consent form, I could sue Ethan for fraud. Even if I didn't get a dime, I had to escape this prison.

I hadn't set foot in the company since the wedding. The receptionist did a double-take when she saw me, her composure faltering. "Mrs. Smith?"

"Where's Ethan?"

She wouldn't look at me, her nervousness palpable. "Mr. Smith is in a meeting upstairs. I'll call up for you."

"Don't bother. I'll go up myself."

"Mrs. Smith…" She started, then hesitated. I paused.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she said, waving her hands dismissively. But then she shot me a strange look, her eyes wide, almost like a warning.

I didn't have time to decipher her bizarre behavior. I took the elevator straight to the executive floor.

As I walked past the main conference room, I heard Ethan's voice, cold and greedy. "How much can we wash this time?"

"A hundred million should be no problem."

"...two hundred million..."

From the snippets of their conversation, one conclusion hit me with the force of a physical blow: Ethan was laundering money.

Oh, universe, you did have a twisted sense of humor. I'd just stumbled upon the secret that could bring him down. This was the perfect opportunity to destroy him.

But I couldn't do it alone. I needed an ally.

I heard footsteps approaching from inside the conference room. I quickly pushed open the door to Ethan's office and slipped inside, arranging myself on the sofa to look as if I'd been waiting patiently.

A moment later, he walked in, a smug smile playing on his lips, as if our fight last night had never happened. He came over and draped an arm around my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"You were busy, weren't you?"

"Never too busy for you," he purred. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really." 

I stood up to avoid his touch, and accidentally saw Ethan's schedule for this month. A person suddenly came to my mind, so I turned around and asked him, "Who all goes to this casino?"