My Husband’s Mistress Killed Our Baby

The elevator doors were just about to slide shut. I watched Margaret’s face twist into an ugly mask of rage. She lunged forward, her manicured hand shooting out to block the closing glass.

"You listen to me, you little—"

She didn't get to finish.

Two massive men in dark suits materialized from the shadows of the lobby. One grabbed Margaret's wrist, twisting it just enough to make her gasp in pain. The other stepped squarely in front of Sophia, blocking her path like a brick wall.

"Let go of me!" Margaret shrieked. She struggled, but the security guard’s grip was iron.

Then, the heavy oak doors of the lobby swung open. Lorenzo walked in.

The air in the room instantly grew colder. He didn't rush. He didn't yell. He just walked up to Margaret with his hands casually in his pockets. His dark eyes were completely dead.

"Get your hands off my mother!" Sophia yelled. But she took a step back, her voice shaking.

Lorenzo looked at the guards. They released Margaret. She stumbled backward, rubbing her red wrist, her chest heaving.

"If you ever approach Ellie again," Lorenzo said softly. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "I will have you arrested for harassment. And then, I will unleash a team of lawyers who will tie you up in court until you can't afford the air you breathe."

Margaret paled. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"This is a legally binding warning," Lorenzo continued, stepping one inch closer to her. "Leave. Now."

Margaret grabbed Sophia’s arm. They practically ran out the glass doors, their heels clicking frantically against the marble.

Lorenzo turned to me. The dangerous edge vanished from his face. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My chest felt lighter.

Two days later, I sat in Lorenzo’s home office. Maxie was asleep on a plush Persian rug near my feet. Diana was on speakerphone.

"He's panicking," Diana reported. Her voice crackled with amusement. "Jericho maxed out his last two credit lines. He just booked the grand ballroom at the St. Regis for this Saturday."

I frowned. "A gala? He can’t afford the deposit on that room."

"He's desperate," Diana said. "He sent out invitations to the city’s top investors and socialites. He’s claiming his firm is about to announce a massive merger. It’s a phantom deal, Miss Romero. He’s putting on a show to secure emergency funding."

I leaned back in my leather chair. Jericho was so predictable. Whenever he felt small, he bought a bigger suit. He was going to stand in a room full of billionaires and pretend to be one of them. For three years, I had secretly paid for those parties. I had bought the champagne and hired the caterers, just so he could feel important.

"Let him," I said. "Let him spend his last dime on a lie."

"What's the play?" Diana asked.

I looked out the window at the city skyline. "I want to be there. I want to look him in the eye when the music stops."

"Consider it done. I'll get us on the guest list."

Lorenzo walked into the office carrying two mugs of black coffee. He handed me one and sat on the edge of the mahogany desk. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I noticed a faint, jagged scar on his left hand. I wondered where he got it.

"I heard Diana," Lorenzo said. He took a sip of his coffee. "Jericho wants an audience. So, I got him one."

I raised an eyebrow. The coffee warmed my cold hands. "What did you do?"

Lorenzo smiled. It wasn't his usual warm smile. It was sharp and ruthless. "I invited Nathan Cole."

My eyes widened. Nathan Cole was the most vicious financial journalist in New York. He ripped fraudulent companies apart for sport on national television.

"Nathan owes me a favor," Lorenzo explained. "He’s attending the gala. He’s bringing his camera crew. He thinks he’s covering a historic merger."

"And when he finds out it's a lie?" I asked, my heart beating a little faster.

"He will broadcast Jericho's bankruptcy live to the entire city," Lorenzo said smoothly. "Every investor, every bank, every competitor will see it. No one will ever lend Jericho Daniels a single dollar again."

I stared at Lorenzo. He had thought of everything. For ten years, I had humbled myself to protect Jericho from the real world. Now, Lorenzo was using that same world to protect me.

"Are you ready for this?" Lorenzo asked softly.

He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed against my cheek. The touch sent a warm, electric shiver down my spine. I looked into his dark eyes and saw absolute loyalty. He wasn't hiding his feelings anymore.

"I'm ready," I said.

The scared, submissive wife was dead. The Romero heiress was finally awake. And on Saturday night, I was going to burn Jericho's fake empire to the ground.