His Doom Comes When He Falls for Her

As expected, like every other woman Wilson had been with, Yvette started taunting me.

She'd send intimate photos of herself and Wilson with a text. "Ms. Vance, Mr. Gunner says I'm the most special woman he's ever met."

She'd call me when Wilson was coming home and say innocently, "Ms. Vance, Mr. Gunner won't be coming back tonight. He wants to watch the stars with me."

And clearly, Wilson was wrapped around her finger.

Each time Yvette provoked me, he'd sign over another property to me, calling it compensation.

I didn't get upset. I just signed the papers quietly.

On my birthday, Yvette didn't let up.

My party was grand, with friends, family, and business partners. Wilson, as my husband, stayed by my side, accepting everyone's wishes.

But halfway through, Yvette called him. I didn't hear what was said, but his expression changed, and he urgently said, "Yvette's in trouble. I have to go."

Ignoring the curious eyes of our guests, he turned and left.

I stood frozen. The smile on my face stiffened as a flicker of loneliness crossed my eyes.

Around me, the guests began to whisper. Their gazes were a mix of pity and gossip.

Olivia wanted to storm out and confront Wilson, but I stopped her. "Forget it."

I took a deep breath and forced a smile to face the guests. "Sorry, everyone. My husband had an urgent matter. Let's continue the celebration."

I raised my glass, keeping up appearances until the last guest left.

Once the room emptied, the fleeting hurt on my expression vanished, replaced by calculation.

Olivia looked at me with concern. "Shannon, why do you let yourself suffer like this?"

"Suffer?"

Smiling, I patted her shoulder. "I'm not suffering. I'm just laying the groundwork before a big move."

She looked at me in confusion, but I didn't explain further.

Wilson returned the next day. His expression carried a mix of apology and mild irritation.

"Shannon, what was with you yesterday? Everyone was gossiping after I left. It made me look terrible. Couldn't you have been more mature and just kept up appearances?"

I didn't get defensive. Instead, I replied softly, "It's my fault. I'll handle it better next time."

His frown relaxed at my words, though for some reason, he felt unsettled.

"Why aren't you angry?" he suddenly asked after staring at me for a while.

I looked at him, puzzled.

"Why aren't you angry? After everything I do, you should be mad." Wilson grabbed my shoulders, his expression darkening slightly.

"I know you didn't mean it, and I know you care about me, so I don't mind," I replied with a smile.

I turned to the kitchen and brought him a thermos. "I made this beef bone broth for you. You've been exhausted lately. Thought you could use some nourishment."

Wilson took it. Seeing me as gentle as ever, he told himself that he had probably just overthought things.

"You're always so thoughtful. I knew you loved me the most."

I smiled faintly, not responding.

What he didn't know was that my care extended far beyond this.

…

Lately, Wilson had been acting off.

He complained of fatigue, low energy, occasional fevers, and coughs. He'd been checked at the hospital, but nothing was wrong.

He chalked it up to stress and became increasingly dependent on my bone broth.

That evening, after finishing his soup, he held me and said, "Shannon, once I help Yvette settle down, I'll be completely focused on us. She's different from the others. She's pure and innocent."