For the next seven years, she produced nothing of value. She squandered her reputation and became a nobody.
And from start to finish, she never knew that money—her buy-in—came from me.
I dialed the investor.
"Mr. Dickerson," the voice on the other end said. "We're in."
My heart settled. Everything was ready.
Just then, my phone screen lit up with a notification.
Natalie posted an update to her feed.
*Since I caused your pain, I will spend my life making amends.*
Attached was a photo of her tending to Carter Walker at his hospital bedside.
She had clearly staged the shot. "No-makeup" makeup. A form-fitting white dress designed to look innocent yet alluring. Her delicate features glowed more dazzling than a carefully arranged bouquet.
In such a short time, she had not only persuaded Carter not to press charges but had also maneuvered herself into the role of his personal caretaker.
I chuckled darkly.
Carter Walker wasn't known for his benevolence. He was a shark. I was genuinely curious to see if she could achieve her delusional "rich wife" dreams now that she had kicked away her stepping stone—me.
A week later, negotiations with the investor concluded smoothly. The project was greenlit.