Chapter 3 - Madison's Secret
I didn't show Michael the message.
Not yet.
Trust had become a luxury I could no longer afford.
For five years I had trusted Ryan completely, and that trust had almost cost me my sight, my future, and perhaps three pregnancies.
Michael might be helping me.
He might also be helping himself.
Managers survive scandals by knowing when to change sides.
“What else did you find?” I asked.
“That's everything so far.”
“Where did these documents come from?”
Michael hesitated.
“Ryan's business archive.”
“You have access?”
“I manage most of his companies.”
“Then why didn't you see those payments before?”
“Because Ryan has hundreds of vendors. Lawson's payments were categorized as consulting.”
Convenient.
My phone remained hidden beneath the blanket.
“Who else has access?”
“Ryan. His accountant. Me.”
“And Madison?”
“No.”
I watched his face carefully.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
After he left, I read the anonymous message again.
If you want the truth about Leo, don't trust Michael.
I replied.
Who is this?
No answer.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Finally:
Someone who knows why Ryan chose you.
My mouth went dry.
Tell me.
The response came immediately.
Tomorrow. 2 PM. Hospital chapel. Come alone.
Impossible.
Ryan's security team controlled the hallway.
Nurses checked on me constantly.
Half my face was bandaged.
I could barely walk without dizziness.
But whoever sent that message knew I was awake.
That meant waiting might be more dangerous than going.
The next morning I told Ryan I wanted to pray.
He looked surprised.
“You haven't been to church in years.”
“Almost losing your face changes things.”
I watched guilt flicker across his expression.
Gone instantly.
“I'll come with you.”
“I want to go alone.”
“Grace—”
“Please.”
I made my voice small.
Broken.
Dependent.
Exactly what he wanted.
“I need ten minutes where nobody looks at me like this.”
I touched the edge of my bandages.
Ryan's expression softened.
He kissed my forehead.
“Whatever you need.”
At 1:55, a nurse helped me into a wheelchair and took me downstairs.
The chapel was empty.
Colored light from stained-glass windows fell across rows of polished wooden benches.
I asked the nurse to wait outside.
At two exactly, a woman entered through a side door.
Brown hair.
White blouse.
I knew her face.
Madison Reed.
She stopped when she saw me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Madison's eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my God.”
I felt my anger rise.
“Don't.”
She stopped.
“You don't get to cry looking at me.”
“You're right.”
“Are you the one who texted me?”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was awake?”
“Michael told me.”
My stomach dropped.
“Michael?”
“He called me last night.”
So much for coming alone.
“Why?”
“Because he thought Ryan had finally gone too far.”
“Finally?”
Madison sat several feet away.
“I don't know where to begin.”
“Start with Leo.”
Her face changed instantly.
A mother's face.
Protective.
Afraid.
“Leo is Ryan's son.”
“I know.”
“Ryan and I were together before you and he became serious.”
“Before?”
She nodded.
“We never really ended.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
“So for five years—”
“Yes.”
“You knew about me.”
“Yes.”
“And stayed with him.”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“At least you're honest now.”
Madison looked at the floor.
“I spent years believing the version of you Ryan gave me.”
“What version?”
“That you knew.”
I stared at her.
“He told me your relationship was arranged for publicity after the first year. He said you both agreed privately to stay together because the image worked.”
“That is insane.”
“I know that now.”
“He proposed to me.”
“He told me that was contractual.”
“We planned children.”
Madison's eyes lifted.
That was when I saw she hadn't known.
“Children?”
“Three pregnancies.”
Her face went white.
“Three?”
I nodded.
“Three losses.”
“Oh God.”
“Did Ryan tell you?”
“No.”
“Did Dr. Lawson?”
“What does Lawson have to do with this?”
Her reaction seemed genuine.
“He was your doctor.”
“During my pregnancy with Leo, yes.”
“Ryan paid him.”
Madison stood suddenly.
“What?”
I explained what Michael had found.
By the time I finished, Madison looked physically ill.
“I recommended Lawson to Ryan.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“What?”
“Lawson handled my pregnancy. Ryan asked if I trusted him. I said yes.”
She covered her mouth.
“I gave him the name.”
The anger I had aimed at Madison shifted.
Not disappeared.
But shifted.
“Why contact me?”
“Because after Michael called, I checked something.”
She opened her purse.
Inside was a small recorder.
“Ryan has been panicking for months.”
“About what?”
“The wedding.”
“That doesn't make sense. He planned it.”
“He planned the publicity. But I told him I was done hiding Leo.”
She sat again.
“I gave him an ultimatum. After your wedding, he had thirty days to publicly acknowledge Leo or I was leaving.”
“So he attacked me because he thought reporters would find you if he canceled.”
“That's part of it.”
“What's the other part?”
Madison hesitated.
“He was afraid you were going to leave him.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because you started asking questions about money.”
I remembered.
Three months earlier I'd noticed several transfers from one of our shared household accounts into a private company.
Ryan said they covered touring expenses.
I asked our accountant.
Ryan became furious.
At the time I'd blamed wedding stress.
“He thought you were getting suspicious,” Madison continued.
“About you?”
“About everything.”
“So the attack wasn't just about canceling the wedding.”
“No.”
“It was punishment.”
Madison's silence answered.
I looked toward the altar.
For years Ryan had constructed two separate realities.
In mine, Madison didn't exist.
In hers, I was a willing business partner.
He had lied differently to each of us because different lies kept us useful.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
The answer surprised me.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I have Leo.”
She looked at me steadily.
“Whatever Ryan did to us, I have a four-year-old boy who thinks his father is a hero. If Ryan is capable of arranging what happened to you, I don't know what he'll do when he thinks I'm a threat.”
For the first time, we weren't Ryan's fiancée and Ryan's mistress.
We were two women sitting inside the same trap.
“What do you have on him?”
Madison placed the recorder in my lap.
“Last night, after Michael called, I confronted Ryan.”
“You recorded him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Not enough.”
My heart sank.
“But he said something useful.”
I pressed play.
Ryan's voice filled the silent chapel.
“You're overreacting.”
Madison's recorded voice answered.
“Grace is in the hospital.”
“And Grace will recover.”
“Because you planned it that way?”
Silence.
Then Ryan:
“I handled what needed handling.”
My pulse accelerated.
Madison's voice:
“And Lawson?”
Ryan:
“Don't say that name over the phone.”
The recording ended.
Not a confession.
But close.
“We need more,” I said.
“I know.”
“Can you get it?”
Madison looked at me.
“So can you.”
The chapel door suddenly opened.
Michael entered.
I reached for the recorder.
“What are you doing here?”
“Saving both of you from making a stupid mistake.”
I turned toward Madison.
“You told him?”
“No.”
Michael lowered his voice.
“Ryan knows Grace isn't in her room.”
“He allowed me to come here.”
“He allowed you ten minutes. You've been gone twenty-eight.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is he coming?”
“He's already downstairs.”
Madison stood.
“I can't let him see me.”
Michael pointed toward the side exit.
“Go.”
She stopped beside me.
“Grace.”
“What?”
“There's one more thing.”
“Tell me.”
“Ryan has a prenuptial agreement prepared.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her eyes held mine.
“Not the one you've seen.”
Cold moved through me.
“What are you talking about?”
“If you marry him, there's another document tied to your medical incapacity. It gives him control over almost everything you own if you're declared unable to make decisions.”
I stared at her.
“Why would I ever sign that?”
“You wouldn't.”
Madison's voice dropped.
“That's why he needs you medicated on your wedding day.”
Footsteps approached outside.
Ryan was coming.
May you like
And suddenly the wedding wasn't just the stage where I could expose him.
It was the place where he intended to finish taking everything from me.
