But I wasn’t bluffing. I hadn’t been bluffing for weeks.
The driver handed me a thick envelope the moment I got into the SUV. “Mr. Mercer asked me to give this to you personally.”
I opened it as the car merged into traffic. Inside were copies of bank transfers, property documents, and photographs. In one photograph, David stood beside Allison—his twenty-six-year-old mistress—inside a real estate office, both of them grinning over paperwork for a luxury condo.
The source of the down payment had been highlighted.
It came from an account connected to the company David kept insisting was “struggling.”
Another page revealed something even worse: money quietly moved from shared marital assets into shell accounts, then redirected into hidden property purchases under allied LLCs.
My uncle Nick had been right.
David hadn’t only betrayed me.
He had been secretly building an entirely new life while my money still clung to his hands.
Aiden leaned closer. “Mom?”
I turned toward him immediately, softening. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is Dad coming later?”
I smoothed his hair gently. “Not today.”
He nodded as though he had already known the answer.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Steven Mercer, the attorney who had helped me prepare everything.
They’ve arrived at the clinic. Doctor has the file. Stay calm. Get on the plane.
