Page 50 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

A quiet exhale on the other end.

“It’ll be done.”

I hang up.

She wants to play.

Then we’ll play by my rules.

*

Wednesday, December 21

The receptionist calls me at eight-oh-two.

“She just arrived, sir.”

“Thank you.”

I enter Valeria’s office three minutes before she does, close the door behind me, then step into the bathroom and lock it. Andrea’s men installed a large monitor on the wall.

Three silent video feeds flicker across the screen. One shows the office, another the laboratory, and the third is black for now.

I could’ve monitored her from somewhere else.

But I wanted to be inside.

Right where she thinks she’s safe.

Soon, I watch her walk in, sit down, and power on the workstation with that absolute focus I know so well.

She’s planning something.

My third video feed comes to life and displays her screen.

Then she bends down, removes her heel, and pulls a composite USB drive hidden inside it.

I go still. My jaw tightens.

She came prepared.

Meticulously.

She forces open a security cover using tools I don’t recognize. Professional-grade. Expensive. Nearly impossible to obtain.

She plugs in the USB drive. Double-clicks the device icon.

An interface opens.

She selects folders and drags them into the program.

An automatic snapshot starts running in the background, copying every file she touches.

Then the progress bar appears.

0%.

She makes a phone call.