Chapter 5 - Selina’s Perfect Lie Begins to Collapse
The name was Evelyn Price.
My personal assistant.
For four years, Evelyn had known everything about my life.
Doctor appointments.
Travel plans.
Lunches.
Passwords to household services.
When Julian was abroad.
When I was alone.
I trusted her.
She had attended my wedding.
She had hugged me at my father's funeral.
And according to Marcus Dane’s spreadsheet, she had received six payments totaling $180,000.
I felt physically sick.
Maya explained that Evelyn had likely provided information rather than participated directly in the attack.
That distinction didn't comfort me.
“She knew I was pregnant.”
Maya looked up.
“What?”
“Evelyn scheduled my first appointment.”
That changed everything.
If Evelyn knew, Selina could have known.
And if Selina knew…
“She sent Julian into that room knowing about the babies.”
Maya didn't answer until she had evidence.
Forty-eight hours later, she returned.
“We arrested Evelyn.”
My hands tightened.
“She talked?”
“Immediately.”
Cowards often do when the plan collapses.
Evelyn admitted selling information to Selina.
At first, she claimed she believed it was merely for leverage during an affair.
Then investigators showed her the financial trail.
Her story changed.
Finally, she admitted something devastating.
Selina had asked directly whether I was pregnant.
Evelyn told her yes.
“How far along?”
“Approximately seventeen weeks.”
“And Selina knew?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward the window.
For several minutes, I couldn't speak.
Julian had not known.
Selina had.
She had walked into my house with a fabricated injury and deliberately triggered a violent confrontation while knowing I was carrying children.
Maya continued carefully.
“There's more.”
Of course there was.
Evelyn had photographed medical paperwork.
One page contained a notation suggesting my doctor suspected twins before the ultrasound confirmation.
Selina might even have known there were two babies before I did.
That realization broke something inside me.
I cried until my incision hurt.
Dr. Reed eventually made Maya leave.
He sat beside me until I calmed down.
“Your children need you to recover,” he said.
“So do I.”
He smiled faintly.
“That’s the answer I wanted.”
My recovery became my rebellion.
I walked when physical therapy told me to walk.
I ate when food tasted like nothing.
I slept whenever my body allowed it.
And every morning, I listened to two heartbeats.
One.
Two.
One.
Two.
My reason to keep going.
Meanwhile, Selina's world was collapsing.
Investigators froze accounts linked to Marcus.
Vance Global's board discovered the attempted stock manipulation.
Federal financial investigators became involved.
Marcus disappeared.
Selina denied everything.
Then Julian gave police the final piece.
A voicemail.
Selina had sent it two days before the attack.
Julian had deleted it without listening to the entire message, but the corporate archive retained a copy.
Her voice was unmistakable.
“She followed me again, Julian. I’m scared of what Nora might do. If she comes after me, you have to stop her.”
Then, quieter:
“Promise me you’ll stop her no matter what.”
Manipulation.
Not a direct command.
But combined with the fabricated messages, Evelyn’s payments, and the recording from my watch, the pattern was devastating.
Selina had built a fictional version of me inside Julian’s mind.
And Julian had chosen to believe it.
Four weeks after the attack, I left the hospital.
Not with Julian.
My attorney, Rachel Morgan, arranged a private apartment under security.
Divorce papers were filed that afternoon.
Julian signed without contest.
He transferred the house to me.
I sold it.
I never wanted to see that Persian rug again.
The proceeds went into trusts for the twins.
Julian also resigned as CEO.
His board didn't force him.
He stepped down.
The media called it shocking.
I called it appropriate.
Power had protected Julian from consequences for too long.
Now he was learning what ordinary people learned much earlier.
Actions follow you.
Two months passed.
My abdomen healed.
My babies grew.
Selina was eventually charged in connection with conspiracy, evidence fabrication, financial crimes, and the scheme surrounding Vance Global.
Marcus remained missing.
That worried Maya.
“He won't stay gone forever,” she told me.
“Why not?”
“Because people like Marcus don't disappear when there's still money on the table.”
“What money?”
She hesitated.
Then explained.
The attempted takeover had failed, but Marcus had moved millions into an account investigators couldn't access.
They believed he needed Selina to unlock part of it.
Which meant Selina wasn't merely his partner.
She was his liability.
Three days later, Selina disappeared.
She was supposed to report to authorities under the conditions of her release.
She didn't.
Her apartment was empty.
Her phone was found beside a highway.
Maya called me personally.
“Do not leave your apartment.”
“Do you think she's coming after me?”
“We don't know.”
“That's not reassuring.”
“It isn't supposed to be. It's supposed to keep you alive.”
Security doubled.
That evening, someone slipped an envelope beneath my apartment door.
No footsteps.
No knock.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Taken that morning.
Walking into my obstetrician’s office.
On the back, four words had been written.
YOU SHOULD HAVE SIGNED.
My blood went cold.
Maya arrived within minutes.
The building went into lockdown.
Security footage showed a delivery worker wearing a cap and mask.
Not Selina.
Not Marcus.
Someone else.
“They still have help,” Maya said.
My hands moved protectively around my stomach.
“Then finish this.”
“We're trying.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“Use me.”
She shook her head.
“Absolutely not.”
“They want me frightened.”
“They may want you dead.”
“Then they're watching.”
Maya stared at me.
I continued.
“Give them something to watch.”
That was when we built the trap.
Publicly, my attorney announced I would attend a closed Vance Global shareholder meeting three days later.
Privately, I would never enter the building.
Police would surround the location.
Security teams would monitor every entrance.
And investigators would watch for Marcus or Selina.
The announcement hit the financial press the following morning.
Twenty minutes later, a burner phone activated.
One message was sent.
To a number associated with Marcus.
“She’ll be there.”
The trap was working.
But that evening, Maya received another call.
Her face changed while she listened.
“What?” I asked.
She lowered the phone.
“Marcus isn't coming to the shareholder meeting.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we found him.”
“Where?”
“In a motel outside Philadelphia.”
Relief washed over me.
Then I saw her expression.
“What aren't you telling me?”
“He's dead.”
The room went silent.
“And Selina?”
“Gone.”
For the first time, Maya looked genuinely worried.
Because if Marcus was no longer running, there was only one person left who knew the entire plan.
May you like
Selina.
And she had just become far more dangerous.
