Chapter 2 - The Blueprint of a NarcissistThe audio played on a loop, filling the empty penthouse with the echoed sound of Ethan’s own abusive arrogance. “Time to learn the rules of being a wife... when I tell you something, you obey.”
Ethan sat on the floor, his back pressed against the plush gray sofa, staring at the ceiling speakers as if they were ghosts. The sweat was dripping from his jawline, soaking the collar of his white dress shirt. He looked small. He looked like the coward he had always been beneath the million-dollar smile and the expensive corporate suits.
“Turn it off,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “Maya, please. Turn it off.”
I paused the recording but kept the file open on my screen. “This file is already sitting in a secure cloud drive, Ethan. If my attorney doesn't receive a check-in text from me every twelve hours, this audio—along with the video footage from the hallway camera—goes straight to the board of directors at Vance Enterprises. And a copy goes to the district attorney.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. The fear in his eyes quickly mutated back into a cold, calculating malice. He was a corporate climber, a man who had spent his entire life using his family’s wealth and his own good looks to manipulate everyone around him. He wasn't sorry for what he did; he was just terrified of being exposed.
“You trapped me,” he whispered, standing up slowly, trying to adjust his rumpled shirt to reclaim some shred of his dignity. “You planned this. You married me just to ruin me.”
“I married you because I loved you, Ethan,” I said, my voice completely steady as I unstrapped my other glove. “I married the man who told me he respected my strength, the man who supported my career as a financial investigator. But that man was a lie. This... this pathetic bully with a leather belt is the reality.”
“You think a judge is going to grant you a divorce over a verbal argument?” Ethan sneered, trying to laugh it off. “My father is one of the biggest real estate developers in New York. My family owns the best legal teams in the state. They’ll bury you in litigation before you can even file a petition.”
“Your father isn't the one running Vance Enterprises anymore, Ethan,” I reminded him, stepping into the bedroom to grab a clean pair of sweatpants. “Your mother, Judith, holds the majority shares. And she’s currently trying to secure a fifty-million-dollar investment from a private equity firm that is headed by one of my mother’s closest childhood friends.”
Ethan froze, his hand stopping halfway to his loosened tie.
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“If that investment firm gets a whisper of domestic abuse or financial instability linked to your name,” I continued, walking back into the living room, “they will pull out of the deal before sunrise. Your mother will ruin you herself before she lets you tank her company.”
Ethan looked at me, and for the first time, he realized that he hadn't married a submissive housewife. He had married a woman who knew exactly how to dismantle his entire life, piece by piece, without ever throwing a single illegal punch.
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