Chapter 7
The next morning, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing–message after message from Quentin lit up my screen:
Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?
Tell me who you are, or I swear, I’ll hunt you down!
Where did you get that? Are you working with Iris?
Is she… really dead?
Iris, is this you? Damn it!
I didn’t reply to any of them.
I wanted him desperate. I wanted him
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1ajes joj jou adung
45 Points
unraveling.
When I stepped out of the cabin, the crisp tang of salt air hit me, and I realized just how far we were from land. The endless horizon of ocean stretched around us, the yacht gliding steadily through the waves like a predator stalking its prey.
Inside the kitchen, Wesley was whistling as he prepared breakfast, the scent of coffee mingling with the salty breeze. He looked at ease, yet there was always an edge to him, a layer of calculation just beneath the surface.
The scene might’ve been picturesque, even a bit endearing, under different circumstances. But as the rich aroma of coffee wafted up to me, my stomach turned violently.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I spun toward the railing just in time to empty the
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+5 Points
contents of my stomach into the waves.
“Morning sickness?” Wesley’s voice came from behind me, casual yet cutting.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shot him a glare. “It’s none of your business.”
He leaned casually against the railing, arms crossed, his lips curving into a smirk. “So, you’re keeping it?”
Squaring my shoulders, I met his gaze head–on. “The baby is a blessing,” I said firmly. “It’s innocent in all of this.”
Wesley studied me for a long moment, his smirk faltering as something quieter -something unknowable–flickered in his expression. Then, in his usual wry tone, he replied, “I could be the father, you know.”
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+5 Points
I laughed sharply, laced with bitter disbelief. “No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of fake marriages. One was more than enough.”
His smirk turned into something more subdued. He stepped closer, his voice losing its usual nonchalance. “Are you sure? Because I can help. Not just with the baby, but with Quentin, Delilah… even Gareth. I can take them all down.”
I shook my head, refusing to bite. “I told you, all I want is peace. No more drama. No more revenge.”
He tilted his head, brows raised, studying me like a puzzle missing its final piece. “Are you sure about that?”
Before I could answer, he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to me. The
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I do to dwes
+ 5 Points
screen was already playing a breaking news report. The anchor’s voice was a mix of hushed sympathy and quiet disdain.
“New developments have emerged in the tragic death of Iris Keaton. Sources claim that her mother, who passed away years ago, lived a controversial lifestyle, with rumors suggesting ties to prostitution. Some are calling her death ‘karma.””
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
“They’re dragging her through the mud,” Wesley murmured, his voice low but deliberate. “And she’s not even here to defend herself.”
The screen cut to another segment.
“Speculation surrounding Iris Keaton’s pregnancy has also surfaced. Alleged
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je joj jou ojumes
[+5 Points
reports question the legitimacy of her child, with critics claiming it might not have been Quentin Brooks’s. Rumors suggest Iris fabricated the pregnancy for attention, and incriminating photos are said to be circulating.”
My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edge of the railing. The bile in my stomach churned again, but this time it wasn’t from nausea. It was rage. Blazing, unfiltered rage.
“They’ll never stop,” Wesley said, his voice even softer now. “Quentin won’t let you go- not in life, not in death. So, I’ll ask again… are you really going to let him win?”
The anger bubbling beneath my skin burst to a boil. Without another word, I grabbed my phone, opened the dummy account, and typed a message with trembling fingers.
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You’ve made me angry now. It’s time to face the consequences.
When I hit send, something inside me shifted. I turned to Wesley, my voice steady, my decision made.
“Fine,” I said calmly. “I’ll be your wife.”
Wesley’s grin widened into something wolfish.
Ou won’t regret it.”
I crossed my arms and narrowed my gaze. “This isn’t just about you. I’m coming back for all of them. To remind them they messed with the wrong woman.”
His grin turned wicked. “Now that’s the spirit. It’s time to make a headline.”
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And that’s exactly what we did.
The next day, the media went wild. Every outlet, every social feed–it was all ablaze with headlines about Wesley Dorne.
The elusive billionaire bachelor announces his engagement–but who is the mystery woman?
Speculation spiraled, but no one had answers. Meanwhile, Quentin Brooks was scrambling to control his own narrative.
At a hastily organized press conference, he stood before a sea of cameras, his expression carefully masked with grief and sincerity.
“These rumors are nothing but malicious lies,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate. “I loved my wife, and I will always love
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her. I don’t know who’s behind this smear campaign, but I’ll find them. Iris was my everything, and these baseless accusations are a cruel attack on her memory–and on our family.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words hang. Then, after a deliberate glance at the cameras, he added, “All I want is justice for my wife. But for the person doing this- they’ll pay. Mark my words.”
The screen cut to an announcement about Iris Keaton’s upcoming wake. I turned off the TV, my expression cold as stone.
“Nice try, Quentin,” I muttered.
Walking to my desk, I cracked open my laptop and logged into another dummy account. This time, I wasn’t going after Quentin directly. No, I had a much bigger
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plan.
Combining every shred of damning evidence I had–hospital records, photos, financial receipts, proof of Quentin and Delilah’s betrayal–I sent everything in a neat little package to Gareth Lawson.
If there was anyone who could tear them both down, it was him. After all, once he learned the truth–that his fiancée Delilah and Quentin had been sneaking around behind his back–he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d destroy them both.
I hit send and closed the laptop, a small smile pulling at my lips.
“Let them destroy each other,‘ I murmured.
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