The next morning, my phone buzzed non–stop with messages from Travis.
Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?
Tell me who you are or else I will haunt you down!
Where did you get that? Did you work with Zoe?
Is she really dead?
Zoe, is this you! Damn it!
I ignored every single one.
I wanted him desperate. I wanted him frantic.
When I finally left the cabin, the fresh ocean breeze hit me, and I realized we were well out at sea. The endless expanse of water stretched in every direction, the yacht gently cutting
through the waves.
Preston was in the kitchen, whistling as he prepared breakfast. The smell of coffee filled the air, and the sight of him cooking should have been amusing.
But the moment the aroma of coffee hit my nose, my stomach churned violently.
I rushed to the side of the yacht, retching until there was nothing left in me.
When I turned around, Preston was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, watching me with a raised eyebrow.
“Morning sickness?” he asked bluntly.
I glared at him, wiping my mouth. “It’s none of your business.”
He tilted his head, smirking. “So you’re keeping it?”
I straightened. “The baby is a blessing,” I said firmly. “It’s innocent in all of this.”
Preston didn’t respond immediately. He just studied me, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, “I can be the father, you know.”
My laugh was sharp and bitter. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough fake marriages to last a lifetime.”
He stepped closer, his tone turning serious. “Are you sure? Because I can help you. Not just with the baby, but with Travis, Madison, and even Ethan. I can ruin them all.”
I shook my head. “All I want is a peaceful life. No more drama. No more revenge.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked again, his voice low.
Before I could reply, he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to me.
The video was already playing.
It was a breaking news report, the anchor speaking with a tone of sympathy.
“New developments in the story of Zoe Hart’s tragic death. Sources claim that her mother, who passed away years ago, led a questionable lifestyle, with rumors suggesting she was involved in prostitution. Some are calling her death karma.”
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My blood ran cold.
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“They’re dragging her name through the mud,” Preston said softly. “And she’s not even alive to defend herself.”
The video cut to another report.
“Speculation has also arisen about the legitimacy of Zoe Hart’s pregnancy. Critics argue that the child may not even be Travis Harper’s, accusing Zoe of infidelity and fabricating the pregnancy for attention. Alleged photos have surfaced.”
I gripped the edge of the railing, my knuckles white.
“They’ll never stop,” Preston said. “Travis won’t let you go–not even in death. Are you really going to let him win?”
Rage boiled inside me, hotter and sharper than anything I’d ever felt.
Grabbing my phone, I opened the dummy account and typed a message to Travis.
You’ve made me angry now. It’s time to face the consequences.
When I hit send, I turned to Preston, my decision made.
“Fine,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll be your wife.”
His grin widened. “You’ve made the right choice.”
I crossed my arms. “But this isn’t just about you. I’m coming back to show them they messed with the wrong woman.”
Preston’s grin turned into a full smile. “Now we’re talking. Time to make a headline.”
The next day, the media exploded with news about Preston Urie.
The mysterious bachelor will get married, though the identity of his future wife remained unknown. Every major outlet picked up the story, speculating about who the lucky woman could be.
Meanwhile, Travis was still trying to control the narrative.
On live television, he stood in front of reporters.
“These rumors are nothing but malicious lies,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I loved my wife, and I will always love her. I don’t know who is behind this, but I will find out. Zoe was my everything, and this baseless speculation about her and our family is cruel.”
He paused for dramatic effect, glancing at the cameras.
“I just want justice for my wife. And for the person trying to destroy us–they will pay for what they’ve done.”
The screen cut to an announcement about Zoe Hart’s wake, scheduled to start the next day.
I turned off the TV, my face cold.
“Nice try, Travis,” I muttered.
Opening my laptop, I logged into another dummy account. This time, I wasn’t targeting Travis directly.
Chapter 7
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I sent every piece of evidence I had–the hospital records, the financial transactions, the photos of Travis and Madison–to Ethan HarrisIf anyone could blow this wide open, it was Ethan. And if I knew him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it against Madison and Travis, after learning they were cheating on him.
I hit send and closed the laptop, a small smile forming on my lips.
“Let them destroy each other,” I said softly.
Travis‘ POV
