Chapter 3

At three that afternoon, Frank knocks on the guest-room door with a folder of documents.

“Mrs. Moretti, Damian asked me to bring these over. Just routine papers he wants you to review.”

“Leave them on the desk.”

Frank sets them down but does not leave.

“There’s something else. That black SUV you asked me to watch has been parked outside the same apartment building several nights in a row.”

I look up.

“I checked. Lily Hayes lives there.”

He steps back slightly, probably expecting me to lose my temper like before.

I only nod.

“Got it. Stop watching it.”

Frank blinks. “Stop? I thought you believed whoever was using that SUV might be a problem for Damian.”

“It was a misunderstanding. You can go.”

He leaves looking confused.

I open the files. Most are routine documents from the family’s legitimate businesses. A blank check is tucked under the last folder, already signed by Damian with the amount left empty.

He has always been generous with money.

I slip the check into my purse.

Damian comes home early for dinner.

He pauses when he sees me at the table, then sits across from me and watches me for a moment.

“You’re unusually calm today.”

He pulls the stack of papers toward him, flips through them, and notices the missing check.

“You took it?”

“Wasn’t it for me?”

He laughs. “It was.”

He closes the folder.

“I need you to do something tomorrow. There’s a project meeting at Moretti Development. Go in my place and say whatever needs to be said.”

Before I can answer, his phone rings. He takes the call and leaves soon after.

Ever since he supposedly settled down, he has been like this—coming and going, never staying long.

For three months, no one caught him with another woman. I told myself he was finally focusing on business instead of clubs and parties.

Now I know the truth.

He did stop sleeping around.

He simply chose one woman and kept her.

The next morning, I attend the meeting in his place.

Several managers are already there. At the far end of the table sits a younger man I do not know well.

Evan Cole.

Halfway through the meeting, the project manager turns on him.

“Evan, your data is three days late. What am I supposed to tell Damian?”

Evan stays calm.

“The numbers need to be checked again. I’m not submitting bad data just to meet a deadline.”

The manager slaps a hand on the table.

“This isn’t your research lab. Mr. Moretti wants results, not excuses.”

I say nothing and glance at my phone.

These managers have always been good at pushing blame downward, and Damian skipping the meeting only means he expects me to deal with the trouble for him.

A message from Rachel appears.

The paperwork is ready. I left it in the private storage locker beside your parking space.

The divorce agreement is finally here.

I lock the screen and look up.

“Give Evan three more days. If something goes wrong, I’ll take responsibility.”

The manager hesitates.

“Mrs. Moretti, but Damian—”

“I’ll deal with Damian.”

The room goes quiet.

Evan looks at me briefly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moretti.”

After the meeting, I am the last to leave.

Evan is waiting outside.

“The review is almost done. I found a discrepancy yesterday and wanted to confirm it before I reported anything.”

“Then confirm it first.”

I nod once and leave.

That evening, I am making tea when Damian sits down at the table.

Without looking up, he says, “I heard you defended some young guy in a meeting today.”