Chapter 3 She Wasn't Alone

There was a sharp click. The turn of a lock echoed through the silence, sharp enough to stop Bethany's pulse mid-beat.

She went still, lungs tight, waiting for footsteps. None came.

Very slowly, Bethany shifted her head toward the sound.

The bathroom door remained tightly shut; the sound of a turning lock was the wind blowing open the unlatched bedroom door.

At the moment, a notification blinked across her phone screen, showing the transmission was complete.

Bethany released a shaky breath and only then noticed the cold sweat soaking through her back.

She erased the forwarding record in an instant and put everything back the way it was.

Bethany slipped out of the bedroom without hesitation, eased the door shut, and headed downstairs.

Once she reached the living room, she looked at her phone. The entire chat history sat quietly on the screen.

A resolute smile traced Bethany's lips as she studied the image.

She opened her chat with Daniel and forwarded everything. "This is the latest evidence."

Then she snapped a picture of the necklace and sent it to a reseller she trusted. "Help me sell this. Donate all proceeds to the Women and Children Protection Foundation."

After completing both tasks, she placed her phone aside-only for footsteps to sound from the staircase moments later.

Brodie appeared, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. When he noticed her still there, his expression shifted. "Bethany, why aren't you resting?"

"I'm going to." Bethany turned toward him, her gaze unwavering. "I'm not feeling very well. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."

Brodie paused mid-step, confusion creasing his brow. "Are you sick? Should I get a doctor?"

He reached out instinctively, aiming to touch her forehead.

"That will not be necessary." Bethany shifted back just far enough that his hand met empty air. "Sleep will take care of it."

Brodie froze, his arm hanging uselessly between them, and before he could speak, Bethany slipped into the guest room and shut the door with a quiet, final click.

Left alone in the living room, Brodie stood facing the closed door, a knot of unease forming in his chest that he could not quite name.

...

Early the next morning, Brodie was summoned away by a phone call.

The moment the engine sound faded into the distance, Bethany's eyes opened. She was fully awake, no trace of sleep lingering.

After breakfast, just as she was preparing to step out, her phone rang. Olivia Lawson, her bestie.

Bethany's lips curved faintly before she answered.

"Bethany, are you alright?" Olivia blurted, her tone sharp with worry. "I was at a party last night, and I swear I saw Brodie! He was with a woman, acting way too close! I almost marched over to confront them, but my friends dragged me back-"

"I know, Olivia. I'm already planning to divorce him," Bethany replied, her voice level and steady.

Bethany sent the photo to Olivia.

Olivia took one look and nearly snapped her phone in half. "That bastard Brodie! And who is that shameless woman? I swear I'll rip her hair out strand by strand!"

"Karen Jenkins, she's Brodie's very first love," said Bethany in a flat tone.

"You should have left Brodie the jerk a long time ago. Honestly, you ought to speak up and expose them online. Let people tear them apart and call Karen a home wrecker for the rest of her life."

A cold smile glimmered across Bethany's lips. "I'm waiting for the right timing. Screaming and making a scene in public is pointless. It makes me look foolish and solves nothing."

She paused, her tone turning more deliberate. "Olivia, I need your help with something."

"Say the word! Money, contacts, whatever you need! I've wanted to expose Brodie's fake saint routine for years," Olivia said, practically buzzing with outrage.

Bethany's chest warmed with genuine gratitude. It felt good to know she wasn't alone.

"Olivia, I need you to locate a safe and private apartment for me, and also look into Karen's background as much as you can."

"Okay. Leave it to me," Olivia replied without hesitation.

...

Brodie strode into the company, only to be met by his assistant, Callum Marsh, whose face carried a heavy look.

"Mr. Wilson, we have a problem. The Taylor Group announced it is terminating the Evergreen Pharma collaboration. They refused to discuss it further," reported Callum.

"That doesn't make sense. Our cooperation has been going smoothly." Brodie stopped mid-step, confusion tightening his features.

"I heard it was decided by their new CEO. We have poured so much money into this project. If the partnership fails, our cash flow will be in real danger!"

Brodie's expression shifted, and he turned to Callum. "A new CEO? Who is it?"

"His name is Jonathan Taylor!"

"What? That man?" Brodie's expression shifted, and his brows pulled into a tight frown.

Jonathan Taylor. The name carried the weight of absolute power and ruthless methods in the business world. He was known for being nearly impossible to handle, influential in every circle yet quiet and composed.

For the past two years, Jonathan had focused on overseas ventures. No one anticipated his sudden return, much less his decision to seize control of the Taylor Group-and certainly not that his first decisive action would strike at the Wilson Group.

"What was their justification? They can't dissolve a contract without presenting a reason," Brodie demanded as he moved toward the CEO's office.

Callum rushed to stay beside Brodie, his tone dark. "Their official statement claims that after a new assessment, they believe Evergreen Pharma has major uncertainties in the core technical stability and the later clinical data support of the new oral liquid project, which does not meet the Taylor Group's investment risk control standards."

"That's ridiculous!" Brodie spat, pushing open the office door with more force than necessary. "They approved our clinical data long ago and were pleased with it! This excuse is garbage."

Tugging at his tie, he dropped into the chair behind the grand desk with irritation.

The Wilson Group's entire future rested on the Evergreen Pharma project. If it failed, the next three years would be a financial graveyard.

"Get in touch with Jonathan. I want to speak with him myself," Brodie said, his tone clipped as he attempted to rein in his growing panic.