It was currently 9:15 PM.
If I didn’t execute my counter-plan and trigger the misconduct clause in our prenuptial agreement before midnight, my father’s legacy, my company, and my entire life savings would disappear into the hands of criminals. I needed to trap him. I needed an undeniable, witnessed act of aggression after the marriage certificate was signed to immediately activate the asset freeze.
I wiped the mixture of blood and frosting from my eye.
Derek raised his champagne glass toward the silent, uncomfortable room. “To my beautiful, if a little clumsy, wife!” he announced.
Scattered, nervous laughter returned. Patricia raised her glass as well, her eyes shining with a predatory gleam. “She’ll learn how to take a joke eventually.”
I looked across the ballroom. Harper was watching me. Waiting. I gave her the smallest, almost invisible nod.
Derek pulled me roughly against his chest, pressing my bruised cheek against his lapel. “There she is,” he murmured. “Good girl.”
I smiled. A tight smile stained with blood. Hidden beneath the neckline of my dress, inside a tiny pearl button, a miniature audio recorder blinked red.
As I pulled away, Derek’s hand shot forward and seized my wrist with bone-crushing force, concealed from the guests by the folds of my skirt.
“You’re going to go to the bathroom, clean yourself up, and then you’re going to authorize the bank ping on your phone,” he hissed, his smile remaining fixed for the audience. “Or I swear to God, Claire, tomorrow morning you’ll wake up with more than a scratch on your face.”
The clock was ticking. And my husband had just realized I was stalling.
THE UPLOAD
“I’m going to the bridal suite,” I said, keeping my voice eerily calm.
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “I’m coming with you.”
