Chapter 2 - THE NAME ON THE SCREENThe burner phone vibrated again.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each violent buzz sounded impossibly loud inside the silent study.
Julian stood in the doorway.
I stood beside the desk.
Between us, hidden beneath less than half an inch of polished walnut, was the one device capable of destroying his entire future.
His eyes narrowed.
“What was that?”
I forced myself not to look down.
“What was what?”
“The sound.”
I blinked at him.
Slowly.
Blankly.
Like a woman whose mind had been cracked open on a highway three days ago.
Julian stepped into the room.
My pulse thundered so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
The phone vibrated again.
This time, I deliberately flinched.
Then I looked toward the window.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Is that… outside?”
Julian didn’t answer.
He walked toward me.
One measured step at a time.
I had known my husband for seven years. I knew the exact expression he wore when angry shareholders challenged him. I knew the tiny muscle in his jaw that tightened when a negotiation was slipping beyond his control.
That muscle was moving now.
“What are you doing in here, Victoria?”
I looked around the study as if seeing it for the first time.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I was looking for…” I let my face crumple. “I don’t remember.”
That stopped him.
Not because he cared.
Because he was calculating.
Julian’s entire advantage depended on my helplessness.
If he pushed too hard, he risked exposing himself.
So he softened instantly.
“My poor darling.”
He crossed the remaining distance and wrapped his arms around me.
I let him.
Every instinct in my body screamed to shove him away.
Instead, I pressed my cheek against the chest of the man who might have ordered my death.
His heart was beating calmly.
That frightened me more than anything.
“You shouldn’t wander around alone,” he murmured into my hair. “The doctor said confusion is normal after trauma.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You never need to apologize to me.”
The lie rolled off his tongue beautifully.
His hand moved behind me toward the desk.
I reacted before he reached the drawer.
I suddenly sagged against him.
“My head.”
Julian caught me automatically.
I clutched my temple.
“Everything’s spinning.”
His attention shifted immediately.
“Victoria?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
I barely finished the sentence before stumbling toward the hallway.
Julian followed.
Behind us, the burner phone finally stopped vibrating.
I made it upstairs before allowing myself to breathe.
Julian hovered around me for nearly twenty minutes, bringing water, pulling the curtains, insisting I remain in bed.
The perfect husband.
The concerned caretaker.
The attempted murderer.
When he finally left to take a phone call, I waited five full minutes.
Then ten.
Only after hearing the distant sound of his office door closing downstairs did I move.
I slipped out of bed and locked the bedroom door.
The burner phone wasn’t with me.
I had been forced to leave it in the study.
But Arthur and I had established another emergency method years earlier—one Julian knew nothing about.
My old tablet.
It looked dead.
It had been lying in the bottom drawer of my dressing room for nearly four years.
Julian thought I had abandoned it after replacing it with a newer model.
What he didn’t know was that Arthur had modified it specifically for secure communications after a hostile takeover attempt five years earlier.
I retrieved it, connected it to the hidden guest network, and opened the encrypted portal.
One new message waited.
From Arthur.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The person identified on surveillance entering the parking structure near your vehicle was Chloe Bennett.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
Chloe.
Not a hired stranger.
Not some criminal paid through an offshore account.
Chloe.
The woman I had mentored.
The woman whose mother’s cancer treatment I had quietly helped pay for.
The woman I had defended when senior executives dismissed her as too inexperienced.
Chloe had approached my car.
Chloe had been near my brakes.
But Arthur’s message continued.
Important: footage only establishes presence. It does not show the actual sabotage. We have another problem. Security archives were accessed forty-eight hours after the crash. Someone attempted to erase the footage.
I typed back.
Who had access?
His answer appeared thirty seconds later.
Four people. You. Chief Security Officer Marcus Hale. Julian. Chloe.
I stared at the names.
Marcus Hale had worked for Sterling Enterprises for fourteen years.
He had served my father before me.
If Marcus was involved, the conspiracy was larger than I feared.
A soft knock sounded at the bedroom door.
I shut down the tablet.
“Victoria?”
Chloe.
My body went cold.
I slid the tablet beneath the blanket and unlocked the door.
Chloe stood outside carrying a tray.
Soup.
Tea.
Medication.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat low bun. She wore a cream cardigan instead of her usual corporate attire.
She looked less like an executive assistant and more like a concerned younger sister.
The effect was deliberate.
“Julian said you weren’t feeling well.”
Her voice was gentle.
I studied her face.
Had those hands cut my brake lines?
Had she stood in a dark parking garage knowing exactly what would happen once I reached highway speed?
I stepped aside.
“Come in.”
She placed the tray on the nightstand.
“I brought your evening medication.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t remember me either, do you?”
I let silence stretch.
Then shook my head.
Her expression shifted into sadness so convincing it almost hurt.
“I’m Chloe. I worked for you.”
“Worked?”
She smiled faintly.
“Still do.”
I lowered my gaze.
“Was I nice to you?”
The question caught her off guard.
“What?”
“Before the accident.”
A flicker.
Tiny.
But there.
“You were wonderful to me.”
“Were we friends?”
Chloe hesitated.
“Something like that.”
I looked into her eyes.
“Then why do I feel scared of you?”
All color left her face.
For one exquisite second, the mask dropped.
Then she laughed softly.
“Nerves. That’s all.”
“Maybe.”
I picked up the teacup.
Chloe watched me too carefully.
Immediately, I put it back down.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You should drink.”
“I said I’m not thirsty.”
Her smile stiffened.
Then she relaxed again.
“Of course.”
She reached for the medication bottle.
“Take these, at least.”
“What are they?”
“Pain medication. The doctor prescribed them.”
I studied the bottle.
The label looked legitimate.
But after what I had discovered, I trusted nothing that came from Chloe’s hands.
“I don’t like pills.”
“Victoria—”
“I don’t like them.”
I let fear enter my voice.
Childlike fear.
Chloe immediately stepped back.
“All right.”
She didn’t pressure me further.
That frightened me too.
After she left, I locked the door again and examined the pills.
They were small white tablets.
Not the medication I remembered receiving at the hospital.
I photographed them with the tablet and sent the image to Arthur.
Find out what these are. Quietly.
His response came ten minutes later.
I’ll have someone identify them. Do not take anything they give you.
I didn’t.
That night, I lay awake in bed beside Julian.
He slept with one arm draped over my waist.
Anyone looking through the window would have seen a devoted husband protecting his injured wife.
I stared at the ceiling until almost two in the morning.
Then Julian’s phone lit up.
A message preview appeared.
C: She didn’t take the medication.
My breath stopped.
Julian remained asleep.
Another message appeared.
C: She asked strange questions. I think she may remember more than she’s admitting.
Julian’s eyes opened.
I immediately closed mine.
He carefully removed his arm from my waist.
The mattress shifted.
Then his footsteps moved toward the bathroom.
The door clicked shut.
I waited.
One minute.
Two.
Then muffled whispers.
“You’re overreacting,” Julian said.
Pause.
“No. We stay with the plan.”
Another pause.
“She signs before Friday. After that, it doesn’t matter what she remembers.”
Friday.
Three days away.
Something was happening Friday.
Something big enough that they needed my signature before then.
The bathroom door opened.
I relaxed my face just before Julian returned.
He slipped back beneath the covers.
His fingers brushed my hair.
“Victoria?”
I pretended to stir.
“Mmm?”
“I love you.”
My stomach twisted.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
The words tasted like poison.
The following morning, I waited until Julian and Chloe left for Sterling headquarters.
Then I summoned our longtime housekeeper, Rosa.
Rosa had worked for my family since I was seventeen.
She entered the bedroom carrying fresh towels.
I looked at her.
“Close the door.”
She froze.
For three seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I said quietly:
“I remember everything.”
The towels slipped from her hands.
“Oh, thank God.”
She covered her mouth.
Tears immediately filled her eyes.
“Mrs. Sterling—”
“Quiet.”
Rosa rushed toward me.
“They told us not to upset you. Mr. Julian said your memory was gone. He changed the staff schedule. He told security not to let anyone see you unless he approved it.”
My suspicions hardened.
“Rosa, I need help.”
“Anything.”
“Has anything unusual happened in this house since my accident?”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
“What?”
She glanced toward the door.
“Mr. Julian burned papers in the courtyard fireplace the night you came home.”
“What papers?”
“I don’t know. But Miss Chloe was with him.”
“Anything else?”
Rosa hesitated.
“Two men came yesterday.”
“What men?”
“They said they were from the bank.”
I stood straighter.
“Which bank?”
“I didn’t recognize the name.”
“What did they bring?”
“A metal case. Mr. Julian took them into your father’s library.”
My father’s library contained the original corporate trust documents.
Documents that controlled forty-two percent of Sterling Enterprises.
Suddenly, Friday made sense.
They weren’t just trying to gain temporary power of attorney.
They were preparing a transfer of controlling ownership.
And if I refused?
They had already tried once to kill me.
I turned toward Rosa.
“I need you to do something dangerous.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Tell me.”
“Tonight, when Julian goes to sleep, I need access to the library security system.”
Rosa nodded.
“And Mrs. Sterling?”
“Yes?”
She reached into her apron.
“I found this in Mr. Julian’s jacket yesterday.”
She handed me a small brass key.
I recognized it instantly.
It belonged to my father’s private archive.
The one place in the entire mansion even Julian was never supposed to enter.
My skin prickled.
“Where was the jacket?”
“In the garage.”
The garage.
Near my vehicles.
I stared at the key.
Then another thought struck me.
“Rosa, when Julian came home the night before my crash… what was he wearing?”
She frowned, thinking.
“A dark suit.”
“Shoes?”
“Black dress shoes.”
“Were they wet?”
Her face slowly changed.
“No.”
Then she whispered:
“But there was something on them.”
“What?”
“Gray dust. Like concrete.”
The underground garage at Sterling headquarters had unfinished concrete flooring.
The same garage where Chloe had been recorded near my car.
I tightened my fist around the brass key.
Maybe Chloe hadn’t acted alone.
Maybe she hadn’t even been the person who cut my brakes.
Maybe she had only been the lookout.
That evening, Arthur finally sent back the analysis of the pills Chloe had given me.
I opened the encrypted message.
My blood went cold.
Not standard post-concussion medication. High-dose sedative. Repeated use could cause confusion, memory impairment, dizziness, and impaired judgment.
Below it was another message.
Victoria, there’s more. I found the Friday transaction. Julian is attempting to sell Sterling’s defense logistics division to Blackwell Global for $740 million. Closing requires either your signature or proof you are medically incompetent.
I read the final line twice.
If they cannot get your signature, they may try to have you declared incapacitated.
Downstairs, the front door opened.
Julian was home.
His voice floated upward.
Warm.
Cheerful.
“Victoria? Darling? I have wonderful news.”
I shut off the tablet.
Seconds later, he entered carrying flowers.
Behind him stood a man in a gray suit.
A man I recognized immediately.
Dr. Samuel Pierce.
A psychiatrist who had once testified in a corporate competency dispute.
Julian smiled.
“Sweetheart, Dr. Pierce is here to evaluate how your memory is progressing.”
And just like that, I understood their next move.
May you like
If I wouldn’t sign away my company willingly…
my husband intended to have me legally declared incapable of owning it.
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