Silence on the other end. Then the line cut dead.

Belinda's text came through a second later:

"Ms. Fox, let's be honest—every cent you have is Mr. Henson's money."

"And you don't get to wave your wife title around to bully me."

"I've already frozen every account under your name and made sure nobody lends you a thing. When you're ready to apologize—and swear you'll stop spending Mr. Henson's money like it's yours—I'll think about unlocking them."

I read it, and my vision blurred, something hot and violent flooding up through my chest. Then I was gone.

But before the darkness took me, I got the call through to Attorney Pierce. I told him to fire Belinda Swanson effective immediately, suspend Fergus Henson from the CEO position, and have Fergus at this hospital within the hour.

A junior secretary—one month on the job. No one that low dares freeze the accounts of the CEO's wife unless someone above her is holding the door open.

But Fergus? My husband—throwing away everything we had for a girl who'd barely learned the building's floor plan? I couldn't make it fit. I wouldn't.

And yet the thought wouldn't leave.

The Fox family was worth tens of billions, and this generation had produced exactly one heir: me. I could have married into another dynasty and split everything down the middle. Instead, I chose to bring a man into my family—someone who'd marry into the Fox name and build what I told him to build.

To find someone honest and steady,

I hid who I was and slipped into Sterling Group as a low-level employee.

That was the year I met Fergus Henson, fresh out of school and just starting at the company.

Top university, empty pockets, but there was a quiet gentleness in him layered over something stubborn and unbreakable.

I noticed him right away.

He was always the first one in and the last one out.

While everyone else complained about overtime, he'd quietly re-check an entire floor's worth of reports on his own.

A few times I stayed late, and he'd appear at my desk with a cup of coffee, ears red to the tips, not quite meeting my eyes. Then he'd reach past me for the laptop, voice low and a little unsteady:

"It's too late for you to go home alone. I'll finish this—you head out."

I could feel my pulse in my throat for a full minute after he walked away.

But the moment I truly fell for him came during an incident at work.

A female colleague stole my project, presented it first, then turned around and accused me of plagiarizing her.

The general manager backing her wanted me fired on the spot, threatened to hold me liable for leaking company secrets, and demanded compensation.

Fergus was days from a promotion. He slammed both hands on the table and stepped between me and the room.

"Mamie Fox didn't do this! I know her—I'll stake everything on it!"

"You want to fire someone who's done nothing wrong? Then this company can't tell right from wrong, and I don't want any part of it. I'm walking out with her!"

He tore off his name badge and grabbed my hand, and we ran—out of the conference room, down the corridor, all the way through the lobby doors.

Right then, something locked into place inside my chest. This was the man I was going to spend my life with.

I grabbed him, still breathless, heart hammering so hard I could barely get the words out:

"Fergus! I like you! Do you like me? Marry me—say yes!"

After the wedding, I stepped away from the company so I could focus on my health and have my heir as soon as possible.

I left Sterling Group in Fergus's hands, with Attorney Pierce overseeing things alongside him.

And Fergus didn't disappoint. The company thrived under his management.

Until a month and a half ago, when he suddenly told me he wanted to recruit a batch of underprivileged graduates from his alma mater.

I agreed.

Belinda Swanson was one of them.

Within ten days of joining the company, she'd been promoted all the way up to the CEO's personal secretary.

That was when the whispers started reaching me.

One of the girls in the secretarial pool pulled me aside—Belinda had been carrying homemade lunches into Fergus's office, she said. The two of them would eat together behind a closed door and not come out for the entire afternoon.

Fergus's explanation for all of it went like this:

"Belinda works incredibly hard, and she's talented. I can't hold it against her just because she's young and fresh out of school, can I?"

"I only transferred her to be my secretary for work purposes. As for the lunch thing... she's just so dedicated that she keeps working through lunch to help me process documents, so she started bringing her meal to my office. That's all."

"There's nothing between us. But hey, if it bothers you—if you're jealous—just say the word and I'll get rid of her tomorrow."

I wasn't the type to meddle with the company over gossip and gut feelings.

I pulled Belinda's file myself, sat in on a few meetings she ran. The girl was meticulous, capable, knew exactly when to press and when to ease off. I was impressed enough to pay off every cent of her student loans, push through a raise, and promote her all the way to chief secretary. I even warned the staff to knock off the rumor mill—stop making up stories about a young woman who was just trying to build a career.

I thought I was investing in someone with real potential.

Turns out I was just feeding the wolf inside her.

It started with the door code. She kept saying she needed constant access to pick up documents for Fergus, and before I knew it, she'd changed the code to our home to her own birthday.

When I confronted her, she apologized with tears brimming in her eyes, looking wounded and small.

That same night, she took a drunk Fergus and didn't come back. Her phone was off. Every call went to voicemail.

I searched for a full day and night. I was dialing the police when Fergus finally called—casual, unhurried—to say he was already home. I nearly tripped over myself getting back, and there she was: standing in my kitchen, in my pajamas, flipping something on my stove for Fergus's breakfast.

She saw me and her eyes went red.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Fox. I know I'm hopeless—I just couldn't keep your door code straight. Mr. Henson was so drunk, and I couldn't get the door open, so I had no choice but to take him to a hotel for the night. But don't worry, nothing happened between us."

Anger surged through me and I opened my mouth to speak.

Fergus cut in first, his face turning to stone. He pointed at the front door.

"Six digits. You can't remember six digits. And you don't know how to turn on a phone. If the chief secretary job is too complicated for you, don't bother showing up tomorrow."

Belinda burst into tears on the spot.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Henson, I really didn't mean it! Please don't fire me! My mother's surgery costs two hundred thousand, and she's counting on my salary to cover it!"

"You fire me and my whole family goes under!"

Fergus looked at her, ice cold.

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to my wife. She's pregnant, and you're the one putting her through this. If she doesn't forgive you today, you can cry yourself blind for all I care—you're still gone."

Belinda dropped to her knees in front of me and started slapping herself across the face, one cheek and then the other.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Fox. I was just afraid that knocking on the door in the middle of the night would wake you and hurt the baby."

"I'm clumsy with words, I have no sense for these things, and I messed up! Hit me! Yell at me! Just please don't fire me!"

I looked at her like that, and in the end I said nothing. I just told her to leave.

Fergus pulled me into his arms afterward, holding on like he'd never let go.

"Babe, how are you this kind? She made you upset and I was ready to fire her on the spot."

"But you said you'd forgive her, so I'll follow your lead. Don't worry though—I'm going to bury her in work, keep her late every single night. Call it punishment."

Back then, I still melted into the warmth of it. Never once did I think to question whether any of it was real.

But Belinda never stopped. She kept crossing lines, kept pushing closer, each time a little bolder than the last.

She had access to my cards. My accounts. All of it, just like that.

And there was no way that happened without Fergus behind it.

No way.

When I woke up, Fergus still hadn't appeared.

But my attorney was waiting at my bedside, ready to brief me.

"CEO Henson has taken his secretary to an off-site meeting. He says he won't be back until tomorrow."

He studied my expression carefully before continuing:

"I checked the attendance logs from the past two weeks. The two of them have been leaving together for 'meetings' constantly... but the destinations—"

He handed me a printout. Every single destination listed on those so-called business trips was nowhere near any of our partner companies. They were all resort towns. Vacation hotspots.

"I also spoke with some employees at the company. They said Belinda Swanson's Instagram is full of screenshots from these trips with CEO Henson... Would you like to see?"

He held out his phone. The screen was filled with screenshot after screenshot.

Every one was a carefully staged collage Belinda had posted.

The captions read things like:

"Thanks to CEO Henson for driving me home tonight! This is our special time for two."

"I complained about working overtime and a certain someone sent me a little 'bonus'... the Hermès bag I've had my eye on forever!"

"I mentioned wanting to see the Eiffel Tower, and he flew me there that same night. If this isn't love, what is?"

The attorney went on:

"We looked into Belinda Swanson's college history and discovered she had a financial sponsor during her university years. That sponsor was Mr. Henson."

"Her college roommate told us Belinda used to brag about having a wealthy older benefactor. That person was Mr. Henson."

Hearing it confirmed with my own ears that Fergus had betrayed me long ago—

It cut straight through me.

The attorney placed a folder in my hands and said quietly:

"There's also... we found this. I think you should see it."

I opened the folder. One glance, and my legs buckled. I barely caught myself from falling.

I gripped the folder, my voice shaking:

"Take me home first. I need... I need a moment."

But when I walked through the front door, strangers were moving through my home. Cases of jewelry were being carried out of the bedroom—my bridal jewelry, the pieces my parents had spent twenty years collecting for me, every priceless heirloom, hauled out and shoved into a safe right in front of me.

I rushed over and grabbed the movers:

"What do you think you're doing? Put my things down!"

They shook my hands off without a flicker of expression, loading item after item into the safe. Then one of them turned to me and said:

"From now on, your jewelry, accessories, handbags, and gowns are all under Ms. Swanson's control. If you want to use any of them, you write a five-thousand-word request and submit it through the internal approval portal. Ms. Swanson approves it, you get your things. She doesn't, you don't."

I was shaking so hard I couldn't stop. I pulled out my phone and called Fergus.

Belinda answered. Her voice was bright, almost amused:

"Wow, one day and you're already well enough to come crawling to him? I knew it—you were faking the whole thing just to squeeze out more money!"

"And all that nonsense about going into labor soon. Your due date isn't until next week!"

"Oh, right—Mamie! I almost forgot. Since your due date is next Wednesday, I'll only cover the medical expenses if you deliver on that exact day. Baby comes any other day? That's on your own dime."

I held everything in, every ounce of fury pressed down tight:

"Belinda Swanson! Who gave you permission to touch my jewelry? Tell your people to return my things right now, or I'm calling the police and reporting you for theft!"