THE WIFE HE WANTED GONE

Part 2: The Evidence in His Office

At 3:42 a.m., I stood outside my husband’s private office.

My fever hadn’t gone down. My legs trembled, and I had to hold the wall to keep myself upright.

But I couldn’t stop now.

I slowly turned the handle.

Unlocked.

That frightened me more than anything.

Adrian never left this room unlocked.

The office smelled of expensive leather and whiskey. His enormous desk stood beneath a painting we had bought together on our tenth anniversary.

I remembered that day.

He had kissed my hand and told me we would grow old together.

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and went straight to the bottom drawer.

It was locked.

I searched the desk until I found a small silver key taped beneath it.

Inside were several folders, a black USB drive, and a photograph.

My photograph.

But it wasn’t an ordinary photograph.

It showed me entering St. Catherine’s Medical Center three days earlier. Someone had taken it from across the street.

Beneath it was a document with my name.

HARPER COLE — MEDICAL INCIDENT PLAN.

My hands began shaking.

The document contained instructions for creating a medical emergency, followed by arrangements for transferring my personal assets to a company registered overseas.

There was even a draft obituary.

My eyes stopped at one sentence.

The deceased had been suffering from complications related to a long-term medical condition.

I had no long-term medical condition.

I was a healthy woman who had spent twenty years taking care of other people’s lives.

Until that night.

I opened the next folder.

Bank statements.

Transfers.

Photographs.

And a list of names.

Ruth Cole.

Sloane Mercer.

Patricia Mercer.

Adrian Cole.

All connected to the same financial scheme.

But the most shocking document was at the bottom.

A life insurance policy worth twelve million dollars.

The beneficiary was Adrian.

The policy had been taken out without my knowledge.

I nearly dropped the papers.

Then my phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

Did you find it?

I typed with trembling fingers.

Who are you?

The response came immediately.

My name is Daniel Reeves. I used to manage your husband’s financial accounts. I discovered what he was doing and tried to stop him.

Another message appeared.

Harper, your husband has done this before. You aren’t the first woman he has tried to erase.

Before I could respond, a photograph arrived.

It showed a woman standing outside a courthouse.

She looked familiar.

I enlarged the picture.

Then I recognized her.

Patricia Mercer.

Sloane’s mother.

But according to Adrian, Patricia was a grieving widow whose husband had died years ago.

Daniel sent another message.

Her husband didn’t die naturally. He was found dead under suspicious circumstances. Adrian helped arrange the financial settlement afterward.

My stomach turned.

Then I heard something.

A door opening.

Footsteps.

I quickly switched off the desk lamp and crouched behind the large leather chair.

Adrian entered.

He was speaking on the phone.

“Tuesday is still the deadline. Harper will sign the transfer documents.”

A pause.

“No, Sloane. I don’t care if she’s sick. We have already waited long enough.”

He poured himself a drink.

Then he opened the bottom drawer.

My heart nearly stopped.

He stared at the empty space.

For several seconds, he didn’t move.

Then his expression changed.

“Someone has been in here.”

I covered my mouth.

He searched the drawer again.

His eyes moved toward the desk.

Then toward the chair.

I thought I was finished.

But suddenly, his phone rang.

“Adrian?” a woman’s voice said.

It was Sloane.

He turned toward the window.

“What?”

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“Your daughter just called me.”

My blood ran cold.

Chloe?

“What did she want?”

“She asked why I was at your apartment last night.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“Did you tell her anything?”

“No. But Adrian, I think Harper knows.”

Silence.

Then my husband said something I would never forget.

“Then we move everything forward. I want my wife out of that penthouse before sunrise.”

He ended the call.

I waited until he left.

Then I crawled out from behind the chair, grabbed the USB drive, and hurried toward the bedroom.

My phone rang.

Evelyn.

I answered immediately.

“Harper? Where are you? You sound terrible.”

“Evelyn, I need you.”

“What happened?”

“My husband is trying to kill me.”

There was a long silence.

Then her voice changed.

“Listen carefully. I’m coming to get you. Don’t touch anything else. Don’t confront him. And whatever happens, don’t let him take you to a private hospital.”

“Why?”

“Because I just checked something. Your medical records were accessed tonight by someone using an administrator’s account.”

My blood turned to ice.

“Someone at the hospital?”

“Yes. And Harper…”

She hesitated.

“Your emergency contact requested that your medical records be transferred to a private clinic tomorrow morning.”

My emergency contact was Adrian.

I looked toward the bedroom door.

Then I whispered:

“Evelyn, I think he’s planning to make me disappear before anyone realizes I’m missing.”

“Then we’re going to make sure he fails.”

At 4:26 a.m., Evelyn arrived with her brother, a former police detective named Michael.

They took me to a private apartment belonging to Evelyn’s aunt.

Before leaving, I sent Chloe another message.

Don’t answer calls from your father. Please trust me. I’ll explain everything soon.

Then I made one final decision.

I called Daniel Reeves.

“I have the evidence,” I told him.

“Good. But there’s something else you need to know.”

“What?”

“Your husband has already scheduled a meeting with his attorneys for Tuesday. He’s planning to declare you mentally incompetent if you refuse to sign.”

I closed my eyes.

Twenty-one years.

Twenty-one years of marriage, and he was prepared to destroy my reputation, steal everything I owned, and take my life.

“Then let him have his meeting,” I said quietly.

Daniel sounded confused.

“What do you mean?”

I looked at the USB drive in my hand.

“I want everyone in that room.”

Because Adrian Cole had spent twenty-one years believing I was too trusting to understand his world.

He was about to discover how wrong he was.