Chapter 8
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Nadine reached for her phone the moment the nurse handed her the discharge forms. Her fingers trembled as she dialed Leandro’s number, pressing the phone hard against her ear. One ring. Two. Three. Straight to voicemail. She tried again, biting her lip until she tasted blood. Still nothing.
Her chest tightened. She dialed once more, desperate, only to be met by silence and the mocking automated tone that told her to leave a message. “Leandro, it’s me,” she whispered, her voice shaking with anger masked as worry. “I’m ready to be discharged. Come pick me up.”
When she hung up, her eyes darted toward the nurse who was tidying up the room. “Do you know where Mr. Jones is? Did he call, maybe? Leave a message?”
The nurse shook her head gently. “I’m sorry, Miss Nadine. There’s been no word.”
The answer stung worse than she expected.
Nadine sat at the edge of the hospital bed, her hand resting against her flat stomach. The nurse had just finished removing the IV, and the discharge papers lay neatly on the table beside her. Any other woman in her place would have expected flowers, balloons, even just the presence of the man she’d given herself to.
But there was nothing. No bouquet. No visit. Not even a phone call.
Leandro hadn’t come.
Her nails dug into her palm as bitterness surged. How many times had this happened before? How many times had she been left behind while Emerald, her so–called best friend, got the attention she wanted? Nadine remembered every single time Leandro’s eyes had softened for Emerald, how his tone changed, how his priorities shifted.
And every time, Nadine had found a way to steal it back–to fake a fainting spell, to complain about her health, to do anything to divert his gaze until Emerald was once again pushed into the shadows.
It had become her tactic. Her weapon. And it worked, always.
Because Nadine would never allow them to be happy together. Not Emerald. Not the girl who had everything. Beauty, wealth, and the love of the man Nadine had once dreamed of. Once upon a time, Nadine had loved her. They had been inseparable–two girls whispering secrets into the night. But envy had a way of poisoning even the deepest bond. And when Nadine became Leandro’s secretary, she saw her chance.
She had crawled into his bed willingly, greedily, and soon their affair burned hotter than any loyalty she once felt toward Emerald.
She had won.
At least, that’s what she thought.
Now as she packed her bag, fury brewed in her chest. Why was it suddenly different? Why
Mon, Sep
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Now, as she packed her bag, fury brewed in her chest. Why was it suddenly different? Why was Leandro still consumed by Emerald, even in her absence?
Her thoughts shattered when the door opened and the butler stepped inside. Nadine snapped her gaze to him, eager, expectant. “Where is he? Is Leandro finally here to pick me up?”
The butler shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes. “I’m afraid not, Miss Nadine. Sir Leandro… won’t be able to come.”
Her jaw tightened. “Why not? What could possibly be more important than me right now?” The butler hesitated, then said carefully, “It’s about his daughter, Gwen.”
Nadine’s mouth opened, ready to lash out again, but she froze when he added, “And… Madam Emerald. She’s… dead.”
For a second, the words didn’t register. They bounced off her, meaningless syllables. Emerald. Dead?
Her lips parted, then slowly curled into a smile she couldn’t quite control. A laugh bubbled from her throat, shaky at first, then louder, spilling into the sterile hospital room like madness breaking free. “She’s… dead? My best friend is dead?”
But she caught herself quickly, pressing a hand over her mouth, muffling the laughter into sobs. No–she couldn’t be happy. Not here. Not now. She had to play the role, the loyal friend who had lost someone dear.
Moments later, Nadine was in the hospital corridors, crocodile tears streaming down her face as she demanded to see Leandro. When she found him, he looked nothing like the man she had crawled into bed with. His face was pale, hollow, his eyes bloodshot. He was clutching a crumpled piece of paper–an official report–and his body trembled with rage and grief.
“Leandro!” Nadine rushed to him, grabbing his arm. “What happened? Why are they saying Emerald is dead? How could this happen?” Her voice cracked, the perfect imitation of a grieving friend.
He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were locked on the urn on the table, the one that had been delivered hours ago. His hand clenched around the police report as he barked orders. “Run the DNA again. I don’t care how long it takes. Do it again. Triple–check it. This isn’t her. This can’t be her!”
“Leandro…” Nadine whispered, forcing more tears, “if she’s gone… then maybe… maybe it’s for the best. She won’t come between us anymore. We can finally-”
“Shut up.” His voice was cold, flat, cutting her words in half.
Nadine flinched, but his fury wasn’t for her. He was unraveling, pacing like a caged beast, shouting at the officers. “I want confirmation! I don’t care what the report says–this is not Emerald! She wouldn’t leave me, she wouldn’t leave Gwen! Do it again!”
His voice cracked on her name, hysteria spilling into every word.
Chapter 8
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12:01 Mon, Sep 29 G
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Nadine clenched her fists, her stomach churning with anger. Even now, Emerald had all of him. Even in death.
The sound of hurried footsteps pulled their attention. The butler approached, his face drawn with dread. He bowed his head low, voice trembling. “Sir… we have a problem.”
Leandro turned, eyes blazing. “What now?”
“The investors…” the butler swallowed hard. “They’ve backed out. They’ve gone to our rival company. We’ve lost the billion–dollar project.”
The words slammed into the room like thunder, Nadine’s lips parted, but no sound came. Leandro’s face drained of all color, his body going still, the weight of his losses crashing down all at once.
His wife. His daughter. His empire.
Gone.
And the silence that followed was deafening.
