Chapter 4 - The Grieving Widow
cross the city, inside our luxury penthouse, Victor Hale was living in a paradise built on
lies. The heavy drapes were drawn to block out the morning sun, and the air was filled with
the scent of expensive champagne and Cuban cigars. Victor sat on the plush leather sofa, wearing a
silk robe, a wide, triumphant smirk on his face as he clinked his glass against Serena’s. She was
wearing my designer silk slip, her blonde hair draped over his shoulder as she giggled, blowing
smoke into his face.
The Ice and the Altar 3
B
“To the late, tragic Elena,” Serena toasted, her voice dripping with malice. “A woman who simply
didn't know how to walk on ice. It’s a shame, really. But fifty million dollars will certainly help ease
your broken heart, darling.”
“The lawyers at Cross Atlantic are already reviewing the claim,” Victor said, leaning back and
blowing a smoke ring. “The local police captain I put on my payroll confirmed that the file is closed—
labeled as an accidental death due to extreme weather. There’s no body, of course, because the ravine
is too deep and the snow is too thick to conduct a recovery. It’s the perfect crime. By next week, the
money will be in our offshore accounts, and we can finally leave this miserable city behind.”
“What about her mother’s old jewelry?” Serena asked, her eyes shining with greed. “The diamond
rings? Can I have them now?”
“Take whatever you want, Serena,” Victor laughed, pulling her into his lap. “Everything she
owned is ours now. She was nothing but a quiet, naive girl who thought I married her for love. She
had no idea she was just a stepping stone to my empire. Let’s make sure we play the part of the
grieving widow and his supportive family friend for the cameras today. The media will want to see
May you like
my tears before the check is signed.”
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