PART 2: The Truth Behind Closed Doors
My blood ran cold, yet I did not move, because leaving would have meant denying what I had already begun to understand, and instead, I remained where I was, listening as their voices revealed a reality I had never considered.
They were living in my estate.
They were using my resources.
They were benefiting from a company I had built from the ground up.
And yet, in their minds, I was temporary.
Replaceable.
Disposable.
Later that night, I followed Andrew to his study, moving quietly enough that the sound of my own breathing felt louder than anything else, and through the partially closed door, I heard him speaking on the phone, his voice softened into something unfamiliar and unsettling.
— "I can’t stand another minute with her," — he said, his tone smooth in a way that made the words more disturbing rather than less. — "Don’t worry. As soon as she signs the transfer documents, we’ll be done with her." —
There was a pause, followed by a low laugh that carried a cruelty I had never associated with him before.
— "She has no idea. She’s just as naive as her father was."
