Chapter 3

The next step was getting Ethan to sign the divorce papers.

He was careless, especially when he was feeling good about himself. And he trusted my business acumen completely, often signing documents I'd prepared without much scrutiny.

I waited for the right moment.

A few days later, there was a small family dinner. Susan was in high spirits, Chloe was glowing, and Ethan was basking in the success of his recent deal.

He drank a little too much wine.

After dinner, as he was boasting about his plans for the company, I brought out a folder.

"Ethan, darling," I said, my voice sweet. "Just a few new supplier contracts and a revised partnership agreement for that new project. Could you look them over and sign?"

I'd mixed the divorce settlement papers, meticulously drafted by my lawyer, in with legitimate company documents. The signature page for the divorce settlement was disguised to look like an addendum to a business contract.

He was still flushed with success and wine. "Of course, honey. You always handle these things so well."

He barely glanced at them, flipping through the pages, his eyes a little unfocused.

He signed. Right where I needed him to.

I watched the pen move across the paper, my heart beating steadily.

A few days later, Mr. Davies, Ethan's father, was hosting a charity gala. A big event for the New York elite.

Ethan's Interiors was a major sponsor.

I decided to make an appearance. I needed to.

I wore my most striking dress, something elegant and a little daring.

When Ethan saw me, his eyes lit up. He was proud to have me on his arm.

Throughout the evening, I was the perfect wife. Attentive, charming, laughing at his jokes.

I saw Chloe watching us from across the room, her smile tight, her eyes like daggers. She was with Susan, looking pale and uncomfortable in a dress that didn't quite hide her early pregnancy.

Good. Let her watch. Let her feel it.

Several of Mr. Davies' business associates complimented Ethan on his "beautiful and capable wife."

Ethan preened. I smiled demurely.

Later, as champagne flowed, Chloe suddenly clutched her stomach, a small gasp escaping her lips.

"Oh, my dear!" Susan rushed to her side. "Are you alright, Chloe?"

"I... I don't feel so good, Mom," Chloe whispered, loud enough for Ethan to hear. "My stomach... it hurts."

Ethan, who had been deep in conversation, immediately turned. "Chloe? What's wrong?"

He was by her side in an instant, all concern.

"Maybe it's the baby," Susan said, her voice laced with panic. "Ethan, you should take her home. Or to the hospital."

"Right, right," Ethan said, already guiding Chloe away. He glanced back at me, a fleeting apology in his eyes. "Sarah, I... I need to take care of Chloe."

This was my chance.

As he was about to lead Chloe out, I stepped forward, a slim, folded document in my hand. It was a simple power of attorney, granting me temporary authority over certain company accounts – something I'd legitimately need if he was going to be "distracted."

"Ethan, before you go," I said, my voice calm and urgent. "This needs your signature for Monday morning. It's about the quarterly tax filings. I can handle it, but I need your authorization."

He was flustered, his attention on Chloe.

"Oh, okay, honey. Where do I sign?"

I handed him my pen and the paper, already opened to the signature line.

He scribbled his name, barely looking.

I took the paper back, my fingers brushing against his signature. The real signature, on the real divorce document, was safely tucked away. This was just a decoy, a necessary piece of misdirection.

"Thanks, darling. Take care of Chloe," I said, my voice smooth.

He nodded, already ushering a "weak" Chloe towards the exit.

I watched them go, a cold satisfaction settling in my chest.

The next few weeks were almost peaceful.

Ethan was busy fussing over Chloe, who milked her "delicate condition" for all it was worth.

Susan was a constant presence, monitoring Chloe's every move.

They left me mostly alone. I focused on Emily, on my work at Ethan's Interiors (from home, of course), and on finalizing my plans with my lawyer.

Maria was my rock, smuggling information in and out, her loyalty unwavering.

I was biding my time.

Then, one morning, my phone rang. It was Mr. Davies' assistant.

"Mrs. Davies, Mr. Davies Sr. requests your presence at the family estate this afternoon. It's a matter of some urgency."

A family meeting.

My blood ran cold. I saw Chloe's car, the one Ethan had bought her, parked discreetly down the street as I left. She was already there.

This couldn't be good.