As soon as I close the latest deal, I leave the office and pull out of the parking garage.
A black Charger veers into my lane a few cars behind me. My gut says something is off. Iâm unsure why, but I donât ignore my gut feelings.
I detour through a few L.A. side streets, and the black Charger is still there.
I speed up, weaving in and out of heavy traffic for a few blocks. The Dodge stays far enough behind, and it could be a coincidence, but Iâm not taking any chances.
I turn on my blinker to go right, and at the last second, I cut across the intersection in the opposite direction.
Horns blare at me. I accelerate, passing traffic as fast as possible. I wait until I havenât seen the Charger for several miles before I feel confident Iâve lost it. Iâm still unsure if I was being followed, but itâs got me rattled.
Itâs only a matter of weeks until heâs completely out of his money. Jones has drained the last of the offshore accounts. I alerted the banks we use for our business accounts about the hacks on Hughâs personal accounts. Most already knew since Hugh had banked personally there as well. I asked them how we could add additional layers of security to play it safe, even though Jones is always watching.
After the bank meetings, I informed Hugh that we would get alerts for any transfers in the accounts. Normally, those things are on statements and George reviews it all. But now, he and Hugh canât hide anything.
Hugh didnât like it, but there wasnât much he could say without blowing up his secret regarding all the stolen funds. And itâs stopped him from taking any more.
Hugh declared I should have spoken with him first before speaking with the bank. I innocently asked him again why it was a problem.
He stayed silent, still unable to give me a good answer.
I offered to lend him money when he complained that he was out, but Hugh was too proud. This past month, heâs offloaded personal items, selling several cars and other valuables to cover his cash flow issues.
But tomorrowâs the big day. Heâll have nothing after I force him to sign his shares over to me. Then, once I transfer the funds to buy him out, Iâll steal the payout back.
It crosses my mind again that he might already know Iâm behind all this. But I shrug it off, convincing myself that itâs impossible. Iâve done everything I can to cover my footsteps. Thereâs no trail, but I make a note to be extra vigilant.
My phone rings, tearing me out of my thoughts. Madelynâs name appears on the screen.
I hit the button on my screen. âMadelyn.â
She slurs, âRiggs, Riggs. You have to come over. Hughâs⦠Heâs out of control.â
âWhat are you talking about?â I question. Normally Iâd think she was being dramatic, but not with everything going on.
She begs, âPlease come over! Heâs unstable!â
I bite my tongue. Madelyn chose an interesting word since sheâs been unstable for years. I play the part, obliging, âItâs going to take me about an hour, but Iâll be there as soon as possible.â I hang up.
The smog in L.A. is the thickest Iâve seen in months. I drive through it, trying to stay calm in the crowded lanes, and eventually arrive at their Beverly Hills mansion.
The place is a disaster. Iâve never seen it in such a state. The gates are open, and the security guards are gone. Weeds flourish in the flower beds, and the grass is several feet high.
Another wave of excitement flies through me. I turn off the Porsche and climb up the front steps.
Madelyn opens the door before I get to the top. Itâs the first time Iâve ever come to the house where a staff member hasnât greeted me.
She looks smaller, so tiny you can see her bones. The typical booze smell wafts around her, and I assume sheâs been hitting the bottle and pills for days. She throws her arms around me, and I feel like I might break her if I hug her too tight.
She slurs, âThank God youâre here.â
I gently push her off me, feeling nostalgic about my mother. God, I hate the memories. The thought of my poor pet growing up with this woman as her mother only irritates me further. I can only imagine what it was like for her. And while Blakely had some things better than I did, our situations arenât that far apart.
Blakely lived in a house without affection and where addiction was common. She may have had money, but the neglect canât be erased.
I curtly ask, âWhatâs going on, Madelyn?â
âMy baby,â she cries.
The hairs on my arms rise. Did something happen to Blakely? Does Madelyn know something I donât? I try to stay calm, inquiring, âWhat are you talking about?â
She shrieks, âSheâs married. Hugh knew and didnât tell me.â Tears stream down her face.
Hugh appears in the doorway, his hair disheveled, shirt rumpled, and a ragged beard growing on his face. Red burns his cheeks, probably alcohol induced since a crystal tumbler of scotch is in his hand.
I canât help myself and dig, âIf you need me to send some yard people over, let me know. You canât let your place go like this.â
It infuriates Hugh. He snarls, âYou want to send some of your staff as well? Ungrateful cocksuckers. You employ them for years, miss a few paychecks, and they desert you.â
I assert, âYeah, they have families to feed. You canât expect them to stay without payment.â
Hugh scowls at me.
âThis is your fault,â Madelyn accuses, pointing at him.
He scoffs. âMadelyn, go cry somewhere else.â
She pushes him, claiming, âYou know where she is. Stop hiding her from me.â
He downs the rest of his scotch, declaring, âIâve told you I have no idea. Now stop this nonsense.â
She reaches her arm back and slaps him, the sound of it echoing in the air. It shocks me. Iâve never seen Madelyn become violent.
Anger flares in his eyes as hot as his cheeks. He steps toward her, and she backs up until sheâs against the wall.
I lunge across the room and pull Hugh away from her, ordering, âSettle down.â
He shrugs out of my grasp and threatens Madelyn, saying, âYour time in my house is limited.â
She screams, âThe house weâre going to lose?â
I pretend to feign innocence. âWhat?â
âHe hasnât paid the property taxes,â she yells, her bloodshot eyes glaring at him. She adds, âThey sent us a tax foreclosure.â
âItâs not my fault, you witch,â Hugh spits out. It flies from his mouth and hits her arm.
She glances at it, wrinkles her nose, then whines, âHow could you put us in this situation? You promised you would always take care of us.â
He seethes, âYou ungrateful woman. I paid for your sorry ass and your ungrateful daughter all these years.â
Madelynâs eyes widen. She snarls, âYou mean daughter. Not that youâve done anything to get her back.â
Hugh shakes his head in disgust and stomps over to the bar. He pours more scotch and turns. The alcohol sloshes out of the glass, hitting the marble floor. He pins his wrath on his wife, insulting, âIf you werenât such a lousy mother, she wouldnât have run away.â
âMe?â she mocks. âNow, thatâs calling the kettle black.â
Having seen enough of their shit show, I interrupt, announcing, âIâm going to let you two deal with your family matters alone.â
Madelyn spins, begging, âTake me with you, Riggs.â
âWhat? No. Sorry, but Iâm not getting involved in this,â I state.
âFucking whore,â Hugh blares.
âOh shut up, you pig!â she screams.
Hugh tosses another mouthful of the scotch back.
Madelyn grabs my arm, pleading, âRiggs, please. Donât leave me with him.â She bats her lids, but sheâs so intoxicated she can barely stand up.
I pry her off me and lead her to the chair. âSit down, Madelyn.â
She obeys.
I order Hugh, âTake care of your wife.â
He shoots me a sharp look.
âRiggs, donât go,â she says and leaps off the chair, trying to come after me.
I open the front door and step outside.
âRiggs,â Madelyn shouts.
âStop embarrassing yourself,â Hugh demands.
I walk faster, slide into my driverâs seat, and rev the Porsche. I speed out of the driveway. I look in my rearview mirror, and Madelynâs dropped to the ground, sobbing.
Part of me feels sorry for her and Hugh, but then I remind myself what heâs done and how sheâs been a horrible mother to Blakely all these years. She doesnât deserve any mercy either. They deserve everything theyâre getting and all the wrath thatâs still to come.
I turn up my music, ecstatic this is almost over. Itâs been a huge test of my patience, and I know Iâm playing a dangerous game, even though Iâve covered my tracks.
I race home, ready to announce Blakely to the world at the charity event tonight. Things couldnât be more perfect between us. Iâve kept the name of her wing under wraps, but all of Hughâs friends will be there, and more gossip will fly once they find out Iâve married her.
But it doesnât matter if he finds out tonight. Tomorrow, heâll know Iâm the one whoâs taken him down. The company will be mine, and his daughter is mine. She loves me, and I love her. Weâll do good things together, and nothing will ever break us.
Things couldnât be better in my life.