Antonia's so-called leukemia medical records were forged. Completely fabricated. Her attending physician turned out to be one of Isabel's old admirers, bought off with a staggering sum. And that "voluntary transfer agreement" for the properties—Antonia was already in a rush to cash out. She'd secretly contacted an underground money-laundering ring, planning to mortgage the real estate and move the assets offshore.
All of it happening right under Maxwell's nose, and that fool had no idea.
He was too busy posting melodramatic essays on social media, waxing poetic about the fragility of life and the weight of responsibility.
I scrolled through those nauseating posts and couldn't help but scoff.
Soon. Very soon, the charity gala everyone had been buzzing about would arrive.
Maxwell had gone all out for Antonia's big debut—every socialite, every media outlet in Cloudvale had received an invitation. He wanted the whole world to know what a loyal, devoted man Maxwell Gilbert was. And he wanted the whole world to pressure me, his cold-hearted wife, into handing over my bone marrow.
The day before the gala, Maxwell called.