The unexplained trips.
The sudden gifts missing from my closet.
Even the dress.
Especially the dress.
My father noticed everything.
And suddenly I remembered something that once seemed insignificant.
Three months earlier, during dinner at my parents’ estate, my father had stared at Grant across the table and asked:
“Tell me, Grant… when a man starts stealing from his wife, does he usually begin with small things first?”
At the time, everyone laughed awkwardly.
Now I understood why my father never smiled afterward.
Rebecca’s confidence was completely gone now.
“You told me the divorce was already happening,” she whispered at Grant.
He didn’t answer.
“You told me she knew.”
Still nothing.
Her voice cracked harder this time.
“You said the company was going to be yours.”
And there it was.
The truth.
Not love.
Not passion.
The company.
Whitmore & Vale Holdings was worth nearly eight hundred million dollars after the merger last year. Rebecca hadn’t fallen for Grant Whitmore the husband.
She fell for Grant Whitmore the future billionaire CEO.
Unfortunately for her…
my father had rewritten the ending before either of them realized they were characters in it.
Harold Bennett stepped forward with another folder in hand.
“In light of today’s public confirmation,” he announced calmly, “the emergency board meeting scheduled for Monday morning has been moved to this afternoon.”
Grant stared at him in horror.
“You planned this?”
Harold adjusted his glasses.
