I Raised My Husband's Love Child...Then He Shot Me

Chapter 17

I left the underground chamber, my mind heavy.

My butler stayed behind to finalize the arrangements for our next move, while I made my way back to my study.

Everything was falling into place, but it still wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed the truth.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I walked toward my bedroom, trying to push aside the tension gnawing at me.

Rachel.

I wanted to see her.

When I stepped inside, she was sitting on the bed, absently toying with the edge of the blanket.

The moment I entered, her eyes met mine, and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. She quickly looked away.

Interesting.

"You're awake," I said, stepping closer.

She nodded. "I couldn't sleep."

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her closely. "I have to step out for a while. But I'll be back soon."

She hesitated before nodding. "Okay."

I studied her face, searching for any sign of discomfort. "Will you be fine?"

She looked up, meeting my gaze. "Yes."

I knew she was lying. I could tell by the way her fingers fidgeted, the way her lips pressed together as if holding something back. But I didn't push.

"Take care," she said softly.

I stood, resisting the strange urge to brush my fingers against her cheek. "We'll talk when I get back."

She blinked, a little surprised, but before she could respond, I turned and walked away.

The ride to our destination was silent. My butler sat beside me in the car, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"We secured the prisoner," he said after a while. "He's waiting for you."

I nodded, my mind already elsewhere.

We arrived at a secluded warehouse on the outskirts of the city—perfectly isolated, just the kind of place for a meeting like this.

As I stepped inside, I saw the man sitting in the middle of the room, bound to a chair.

He looked older than the photos I'd seen—prison had done its damage. His face was gaunt, his hair streaked with gray.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

"You," he whispered, disbelief flashing across his face. "You're supposed to be dead."

I folded my arms, keeping my tone cold. "Clearly, I'm not."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know why I've been left to rot in that hellhole for three years."

I stepped forward, lowering my voice. "What are you talking about?"

His jaw tightened, and just like that, the amusement vanished from his face. He clamped his lips shut, refusing to speak.

I exhaled sharply. "Fine."

I motioned to my men, and within seconds, they placed a photograph in front of him.

His son.

The man's face went pale. "No… Don't hurt him," he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. "He knows nothing. Please."

"Then talk," I ordered.

He swallowed hard, glancing between me and the photo.

"Three years ago," he started shakily, "someone contacted me. Told me to crash into a specific car. Said I'd be paid well for it."

My heart pounded. "Go on."

"I was promised a huge amount of money and an early release after a year. But there was one condition."

I already knew what he was going to say, but hearing it still made my blood run cold.

"There couldn't be any survivors."

I clenched my fists, fury threatening to boil over. My mother… and me.

"Who contacted you?" I demanded.

He shook his head, his voice trembling. "I never saw their faces. But I know it was a man and a woman. They gave me the instructions—told me how to make it look like an accident. After that, I never heard from them again."

A man and a woman.

I turned away, controlling my breath as a cold shiver ran down my spine.

"Do you know what you did?" I asked, my voice eerily calm. "The person in that car was my mother."

His eyes widened in horror. "I–I didn't know—"

"Save it," I snapped. "You'll rot in prison for the rest of your life. Nothing changes that."

He started begging, his voice breaking. "Please. My son—"

I didn't stay to hear the rest.

I stormed out, rage building inside me.

My PI followed me. "We'll track this. There has to be a connection between this man and Michael's family."

I nodded, my focus narrowing. "Find it."

Back at my estate, I gave a simple order: "Send the boy home."

I didn't need him anymore. His father had talked, and his involvement in my revenge was over.

Later that night, my butler entered my study, his face unreadable.

"It's done," he said. "We've anonymously acquired the largest share in Michael's company."

I leaned back in my chair, nodding.

"All the shareholders sold their shares to us without Michael knowing. There are only three more left."

A slow smirk pulled at the corner of my lips. "Good work."

I stood, stretching slightly. I needed sleep. Or at least, I needed to see Rachel again.

When I walked into the bedroom, she was curled up on the bed, reading a book.

She looked up when she heard me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her closely. "I couldn't stop thinking about you all day."

Rachel's eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to shift.