Jennifer's POV
The restaurant is called La Lumière. It costs two hundred dollars just to walk through the door.
Victoria Morgan chose it, of course. She always chooses places where everyone will see us. Where everyone will witness whatever game she's playing.
I'm twenty minutes late on purpose. A small rebellion, but it's all I have right now.
My phone keeps buzzing in my purse. More messages from that unknown number. More warnings about Richard. I should probably be scared, but I'm too angry to feel anything else.
I spot Victoria immediately. She sits at the best table by the window, perfectly dressed, perfectly positioned. Her pearls probably cost more than most people's cars. Everything about her screams money and power.
She doesn't smile when she sees me. Just looks me up and down like I'm something dirty on her expensive shoe.
"You're late," she says as I sit down.
"Traffic," I lie.
"Jennifer." She says my name like it tastes bad. "We need to talk about this mess you've created."
My hands clench in my lap. "The mess I created? Your son is cheating on me!"
"Lower your voice." Victoria's eyes flash. "People are staring."
"Let them stare. I'm done pretending everything is perfect."
Victoria sighs like I'm a stupid child. "This is exactly the problem. You're being dramatic. Emotional. It's embarrassing."
I feel like she just slapped me. "Embarrassing? Richard has been sleeping with Amanda for seven months! He wants an open marriage! How is that my fault?"
"Men have needs, Jennifer." Victoria picks up her water glass, takes a small sip. So calm. So cold. "Needs that sometimes one woman cannot fulfill. It's not personal."
I stare at her. "Not personal? He's my husband!"
"Exactly. Your husband. Not your property." She sets down her glass. "You need to stop this divorce nonsense. The Morgans do not divorce. It's common. Trashy."
"So I should just let him cheat? Just smile and accept it?"
"Yes." Victoria says it like it's obvious. "That's what smart wives do. They understand that men will wander. They handle it with grace and dignity. Not by throwing public tantrums and filing divorce papers like some desperate housewife."
My throat feels tight. "You can't be serious."
"I'm completely serious." Victoria leans forward. "Let me explain something to you, dear. You were never good enough for Richard. Your family has money, yes, but you lack breeding. Class. You're soft. Weak. Richard needs a woman who can handle the reality of being married to a man like him."
Each word is a knife. But I force myself to stay calm. "A man like him? You mean a liar? A cheater?"
"A powerful man," Victoria corrects. "Power comes with privileges. If you were woman enough, he wouldn't have looked elsewhere."
That does it. Something inside me snaps.
I stand up so fast my chair scrapes loudly. Everyone in the restaurant turns to look.
"I'm done," I say. My voice shakes but I don't care. "I'm done with this family. Done with your son. Done pretending any of this is normal."
Victoria's face goes red. "Sit down this instant!"
"No." I grab my purse. "I'm going to a lawyer. I'm filing for divorce. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"Jennifer!" Victoria stands too, her voice sharp. "If you walk out that door, you'll regret it. We will fight you. We will take everything. Your inheritance, your shares in your family's company, your reputation. We will destroy you."
I turn back to face her. "You know what, Victoria? Richard already destroyed me. You can't make it worse."
I walk out. My legs feel shaky but I keep moving.
Outside, the sunlight feels too bright. My phone rings immediately.
It's Jason.
"Jen, where are you? I just got a call from Victoria. She's furious."
"Good." I start walking, not sure where I'm going. "I just told her I'm filing for divorce."
"Thank God," Jason says, and I hear relief in his voice. "I was worried you might back down."
"Not anymore." I spot a taxi and wave it down. "Jason, I need a lawyer. The best divorce lawyer in New York. Can you help me?"
"Already on it. I'm texting you an address right now. Marcus Thompson. He handles Michael Kane's legal stuff. He's expecting you in thirty minutes."
Michael Kane. My brother's best friend. The cold billionaire who never loses.
"Thirty minutes? Jason, I look terrible—"
"He doesn't care what you look like. He cares about winning. Get in a cab. Go now."
The taxi stops in front of me. I climb in, give the driver the address Jason just sent.
My phone buzzes again. That unknown number.
Good choice walking out. But Victoria wasn't bluffing. Richard's filing an emergency order right now to freeze all your accounts. You have maybe two hours before you can't access your own money. Get to the bank FIRST. Then the lawyer.
My heart stops.
"Wait!" I tell the taxi driver. "Change of plans. Take me to Chase Bank on Fifth Avenue. Fast."
As we drive, I open my banking app with shaking fingers. I need to see how much money I have. Need to know what I'm working with.
But when the app loads, my blood runs cold.
My main account shows zero dollars.
My savings account shows zero dollars.
Every account that was in both our names—empty.
Richard already took everything.
I'm about to call Jason when my phone rings. Unknown number again. But this time, it's a call, not a text.
I answer. "Who is this?"
"Jennifer Morgan?" A man's voice. Smooth. Dangerous. "My name is Detective James Morrison, NYPD. I need you to come to the precinct immediately."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Your husband filed a police report two hours ago. He claims you've been threatening him and his girlfriend. He has text messages from your phone. Very violent threats."
"That's impossible! I never—"
"Ma'am, I have screenshots right in front of me. They're from your number. Things like 'I'll make you pay' and 'You'll regret this' and 'I could kill you for what you've done.'"
My stomach drops. "I never sent those messages!"
"That's what we need to discuss. If you don't come in voluntarily, I'll have to send officers to pick you up. Which would look very bad for you in divorce court."
He hangs up.
I sit there in the taxi, my whole world spinning.
Richard didn't just take my money.
He framed me for threatening him.
My phone buzzes. The unknown number again.
He's three steps ahead. He's been planning this for months. Your phone has spyware—that's how he sent those texts from your number. You need help. Real help. Meet me at Morgenstern's Cafe at 2 PM. I'll explain everything. I'll prove who I am and what Richard's really doing. But Jennifer—you're in more danger than you know.
Come alone. Trust no one else. Not yet.
The message ends with a photo attachment.
I click it with shaking hands.
It's a picture of Richard and Amanda. But they're not alone.
They're with a man I recognize—Judge Harold Vincent. The judge who's supposed to be handling my divorce case.
All three of them are laughing. Toasting with champagne.
The photo is dated yesterday.
My judge is friends with my husband.
I look up at the taxi driver, my heart pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
"Change of plans again," I whisper. "Take me to Morgenstern's Cafe."
I don't know who's been texting me. Don't know if I can trust them.
But right now, they're the only one telling me the truth.
And if I don't find out what Richard's really planning, I'm going to lose everything—my money, my freedom, maybe even my life.