Page 2 of Secret Seduction

But that doesn’t change the fact that once again, like the fucking chump I am, I allowed Hillary to come back into my life and fuck me over.

Only this time, it’s going to end a bit differently.

“Everything’s okay,” I tell her, forcing my tone to remain neutral when the sight of her alone makes me want to throw up. “Did you have a good day?”

She has several bags in her hands—all designer, of course, since she looks at me like I’m her personal ATM.

When she begged me to take her in, claiming she’d lost her job and apartment when she gave birth to our son and couldn’t go back to work right away, I let her in.

She told me she wanted to be a family.

Wanted to raise Leo together.

So, I gave her a roof over her head, a credit card with no limit, and a luxury SUV for her to drive around in, and what does she do? Steals one-point-two million dollars from me.

“I did.” She beams. “I bought Leo the cutest onesie.”

She saunters through the room without so much as a glance at our son. He’s merely an accessory. She claims she has postpartum depression, which prevents her from caring for our son. Yet I’ve never actually seen her depressed.

But you know what I have seen? Her fucking her lowlife boyfriend, Jimmy, at the motel one town over. When I had Eddy bug her phone, wanting to see if she really was suffering from PPD, I found out more than I’d bargained for.

She had been dating Jimmy when she found out she was pregnant. He was pissed the baby wasn’t his, but when he learned that I was rich, he convinced her to show up at my condo with the plan to steal from me so they would be set for life—his words, not mine.

And since she knew how my business accounts worked, from when she had been my assistant, she played her part until she could transfer the funds from my business account into hers. I don’t know if she thought I wouldn’t notice or she assumed she’d be gone by the time I did. But I noticed immediately, and now I’ve got her right where I want her.

“I have a business meeting I need to attend,” I say. “Can you watch Leo for about a half hour?”

“I already told you that I’m not in a place to watch him,” she insists with a fake-as-hell pout.

No, she’s not in a place to watch our son. But she’s in a place to spend hours shopping. To get manis and pedis every other day. To go tanning several times a week. To meet up with her boyfriend daily …

When I tried to talk to her about her PPD, suggesting we speak to someone, she waved me off and told me she just needed time. What she really meant was she needed time to steal my fucking money.

“Where’s the nanny?” she asks, concern etched on her features—not over the nanny or our child’s well-being, but at the thought of actually having to parent our child.

“She had an emergency,” I lie. The truth is, I excused her early, not wanting her to witness what was about to go down in my home.

Hillary nods and then strolls out with her bags in tow.

But before she can get far, I call out her name. “I was thinking we could have dinner tonight. Just the two of us.” I nod toward Leo, who is sleeping soundly. At eight months old, Leo’s a good baby. He sleeps all night, eats like a champ, and for the most part, is happy. “I’ll have Dani watch him.”

Dani’s daughter, Alba, is almost six months old, and while they’re not old enough to play together, they love to lie next to each other and babble. It’s really fucking cute. I haven’t asked Dani to watch him yet, but once she knows what’s going down tonight, she’ll be more than happy to keep Leo for the night, wanting him to be as far away from Hillary as possible.

“What’s the occasion?” Hillary asks skeptically.

“I have some news I want to share with you.”

She freezes for a moment and then nods. “Sure.”

I pull out my phone and text my attorney, telling him what I need, and he assures me he’ll have it done in a couple of hours.

I spend the rest of the afternoon attempting to get work done while playing with Leo once he wakes up. Since Hillary showed up, I’ve resorted to working part-time from home the past several months, wanting to spend time with Leo since his other parent doesn’t want anything to do with him. I had a play area installed in the corner of my home office that keeps him safe and is a fun area for him to play in.

When the paperwork comes through from my attorney, I print it and then order Hillary’s favorite dinner from North Harbor Point Country Club. On my way to pick it up, I drop Leo off with Dani and Matteo, who wish me luck.

As I set it all out on the table, I chuckle at the irony. Not even a year ago, she helped to put me in jail. And here I am, preparing her final meal like one would for a death row inmate.

“Mmm, smells good,” Hillary says, strolling into the dining room. She’s changed into a formfitting dress and heels. “You got my favorite.” Her eyes light up in appreciation, and it only makes me hate her that much more. The woman should get an award for her Oscar-worthy performance.