I looked at the check. Then I thought of my father’s gray face as he looked at the foreclosure notices.

“Three months?” I asked.

“Ninety days. After that, the money is yours, and I will hand you the best divorce lawyers in the city on a silver platter.”

I took a deep breath. The image of Mark’s fake smile flashed in my mind. The pain in my chest hardened into something cold and heavy. A weapon.

“I agree,” I said, taking the check. “But remember one thing, Mr. Croft. I’m doing this for my family. Don’t think about betraying me.”

“I am a man of my word, Eleanor.”

That night, I signed a contract with the devil. And I prepared to play the role of a lifetime.

Chapter 4: The Art of Deception

The next morning, sunlight mocked me through the bedroom window. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection. Dark circles. Hollow eyes.

The roar of a sports car engine echoed from the garage. Mark was home.

I closed my eyes. Julian. The check. The plan.

The bedroom door opened. Mark walked in, wearing yesterday’s shirt, smelling of stale alcohol and cheap perfume.

“Honey, you’re awake?” he asked, his voice fake-cheerful. He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head, letting his lips graze my hair.

“Hi, Mark. You’re home late. I was worried.”

“Yeah, sorry babe. The storm was crazy. Phone died. Had to crash at Dave’s.”

Lies. Dave was in the Caribbean. I smiled, the muscles in my face aching with the effort. “I see. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“You really are the best wife,” he said, relieved. He started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m gonna shower. Feeling grimy.”

As soon as the bathroom door closed, my smile vanished. I grabbed the burner phone Julian had given me.

Me: Target home. Alibi: Dave’s house. Lies confirmed.

Julian: Good. Let him feel safe. Clear the check today. Cash. Pay the debts discreetly.

That afternoon, I cashed the check. The bank manager treated me like royalty. I drove straight to my parents’ house and handed my mother an envelope that saved our legacy.

“Don’t tell Mark,” I whispered to her. “I want it to be a surprise.”

For the next month, I lived a double life. By day, I was the docile wife. By afternoon, I was Julian Croft’s apprentice.

He took me to a private resort in Napa under the guise of a “girls’ trip.” There, he didn’t touch me. instead, he taught me. He taught me how to read financial reports, how to spot embezzlement, how to weaponize forensic accounting.

“Your husband isn’t just a cheater,” Julian told me one afternoon, handing me a tablet with Mark’s company data. “He’s a criminal. He’s been forging financial reports to secure loans for his lifestyle. And he used your apartment—your inheritance—as collateral.”

I gasped. “He forged my signature?”

“Chloe found the notary,” Julian said. “We don’t go to the police yet. We wait. In two months, I will be his largest creditor. And you will be the one to pull the trigger.”

One evening in Napa, a waiter tripped, sending a tray of drinks flying toward me. Julian moved instantly, pulling me into his chest, shielding me.

For a moment, time stopped. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong against my back. He smelled of rain and safety.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, his voice low.

I looked up. His eyes weren’t cold anymore. They were dark, intense, and terrifyingly human.

“I’m fine,” I stammered.

He released me slowly. But the air between us had shifted. This wasn’t just a business deal anymore. And that was the most dangerous part of all.

Chapter 5: The Gala of Ghosts

The second month passed in a blur of tension. Mark was becoming erratic. Chloe was pressuring him to leave me, and he was terrified of the financial fallout.

We attended a gala at the Pierre Hotel. I wore a gown Julian had sent me—midnight blue, backless, a weapon of mass distraction. Mark paraded me around, desperate to show investors that his personal life was stable.

But then, she walked in. Chloe. Wearing a red dress that left nothing to the imagination, clinging to the arm of an elderly producer.

Mark grip on my arm tightened. “What is she doing here?”

“Who, honey?” I asked innocently. “Oh, that influencer? She’s quite… vulgar in person.”

Later, I followed Mark to a quiet corridor. I hid behind a pillar and listened.

“You promised you’d divorce her!” Chloe hissed. “Julian blocked my cards. I need money, Mark!”

“Be patient!” Mark snapped. “Eleanor’s acting weird. She’s too calm. If I leave now, she takes half.”