Chapter 2: The Woman Who Wanted Everything
Four years earlier, Richard Whitmore had believed he was getting a second chance at happiness.
His first wife, Eleanor, had died after a long battle with cancer. Their son James had been twelve.
For two years, Richard had buried himself in work.
He attended meetings, signed contracts, traveled between London and New York, and returned to a mansion that felt increasingly empty.
James had become quiet after his mother's death.
He rarely spoke about school. He stopped playing football. Sometimes Richard found him sitting in Eleanor's old garden, staring at the roses she had planted.
Richard wanted to help.
But every time he approached his son, the conversation ended the same way.
"I'm fine, Dad.""
So when Victoria appeared at a charity dinner, Richard thought perhaps life was finally giving him something good.
She was charming, intelligent, and attentive.
She remembered his favorite wine. She asked about James. She listened when he talked about Eleanor instead of pretending the past didn't exist.
Three months later, she met James.
The boy barely looked at her.
Victoria didn't seem offended.
She simply crouched beside him and smiled.
"I know I'm not your mother, James. I would never try to replace her.""
James looked at her for a long moment.
"Good.""
Victoria laughed gently.
"Fair enough.""
Richard had been grateful for that response.
He married her a year later.
At first, everything seemed perfect.
Victoria renovated the house, organized family dinners, and encouraged Richard to spend more time away from the office.
But small things began changing.
She replaced the photographs of Eleanor in the living room with paintings.
She removed the old family Christmas ornaments from the main tree.
She complained that James was becoming too dependent on his father.
And whenever Richard tried to discuss it, she would lower her eyes and say:
"I only want us to feel like a proper family.""
Richard usually gave in.
He didn't want another argument.
Then, eighteen months into the marriage, his health began deteriorating.
It started with headaches.
Then dizziness.
Then occasional episodes of nausea that appeared without warning.
Richard blamed stress.
His company was negotiating a major acquisition, and he had been sleeping poorly.
Victoria insisted that he see Dr. Samuel Carter, a physician she had known for years.
"He's excellent," she told him one morning, placing a cup of tea beside his laptop.
"He looks after several important families in London.""
Richard smiled.
"Since when did you become my personal doctor?""
"Since you started looking like a man who works eighteen hours a day.""
She kissed his forehead.
"Please, darling. Just go.""
He went.
Dr. Carter was pleasant, professional, and reassuring.
After several appointments, he explained that Richard's symptoms were likely connected to exhaustion and blood pressure fluctuations.
He prescribed medication.
Richard followed the instructions.
But the weakness continued.
Sometimes he woke up feeling as if he had run a marathon during the night. His hands occasionally trembled. His concentration became unreliable.
Victoria took excellent care of him.
At least, that was what he believed.
She began preparing his drinks herself.
She changed the household routine so that his breakfast was brought directly to his study.
She told the housekeeper not to disturb him.
And whenever James asked why his father was always drinking the special juice Victoria made, she gave him a sweet smile.
"It's good for his heart, sweetheart.""
James never called her sweetheart back.
One evening, he found her standing in the kitchen with a small bottle in her hand.
"What is that?"" he asked.
Victoria quickly slipped it into her pocket.
"Something for your father.""
"Medicine?""
"Vitamins.""
"Why doesn't Dad take them himself?""
Victoria turned.
Her smile had disappeared.
"Because adults sometimes need to look after one another, James.""
He shrugged.
"Okay.""
She walked past him.
But James noticed something.
She had locked the kitchen drawer before leaving.
And she had taken the key.
Three nights before the anniversary reception, James returned home earlier than expected.
His football practice had been canceled because of heavy rain.
He entered through the side door and heard voices coming from the dining room.
He recognized Victoria's voice.
The other belonged to Dr. Carter.
James stopped near the hallway.
"How much longer?"" Victoria asked.
Dr. Carter sighed.
"That depends on whether you continue following the instructions.""
"I've done everything you've told me.""
"Then stop panicking.""
"He's asking questions now.""
"Richard?""
"Who else?""
There was a pause.
Then Dr. Carter spoke more quietly.
"If you keep changing the routine, he'll notice.""
James moved closer to the doorway.
He could see only part of the dining room through the glass.
Victoria was standing beside the table.
Dr. Carter sat with a leather medical bag on his knees.
"What happens if he finds out?"" she asked.
"Then you have a problem.""
Victoria laughed bitterly.
"I already have a problem. His son watches everything I do.""
"Then deal with the boy separately.""
James felt his stomach tighten.
Victoria placed a small envelope on the table.
"Is that enough?""
Dr. Carter opened it.
James couldn't see what was inside, but he watched the doctor count several bundles of cash.
"One more month," Dr. Carter said.
"That's all I need.""
"And after that?""
"After that, the medical records will tell their own story.""
James didn't understand everything he was hearing.
But he understood enough.
His father was in danger.
He pulled out his phone and started recording.
Unfortunately, the floorboard beneath his shoe creaked.
Victoria's head snapped toward the hallway.
"Who's there?""
James ran.
He made it upstairs and locked himself in his bedroom.
His phone shook in his hands.
He watched the recording.
It was clear enough to identify both adults.
But it didn't explain what they were planning.
He wanted to tell his father immediately.
Then he remembered the last time he had tried to warn him about Victoria.
It had been two weeks earlier.
Richard had been sitting in his study, reading a business report.
James entered without knocking.
"Dad, can I talk to you?""
"Of course, son. What's wrong?""
"It's Victoria.""
Richard sighed.
"What about her?""
"She's been doing something with your drinks.""
Richard put down his glasses.
"James, what are you talking about?""
"I saw her put something in your tea.""
"She adds vitamins.""
"How do you know?""
"Because she told me.""
"But I saw her—"
"James.""
Richard's voice became firm.
"Your stepmother is trying to take care of me. You need to stop assuming the worst.""
"She doesn't even like me.""
"That's not true.""
"Then why does she keep saying I should go to boarding school?""
Richard frowned.
"She thinks it might be good for your education.""
"I don't want to go.""
"We'll discuss it later.""
James had looked at his father, waiting for him to ask another question.
He never did.
Instead, Richard returned to his report.
That night, James sat on the edge of his bed and watched the rain hit the window.
He had lost his mother.
He wasn't going to lose his father, too.
The following morning, he decided to investigate.
He began with the dining room.
He discovered that Victoria kept a small locked box inside a cabinet beneath the serving counter.
He couldn't open it.
But he noticed that the cabinet key was attached to her handbag.
He also found a second phone charger behind a decorative vase in the guest room.
Someone had been using the room regularly.
And then, on the afternoon of the anniversary reception, he saw Victoria enter the dining room carrying a small white packet.
He was outside, near the garden windows, looking for his missing jacket.
Through the glass, he watched her open the packet and pour its contents into the orange juice.
He raised his phone.
This time, he recorded everything.
The camera captured her face.
The packet.
The pitcher.
And the way she carefully cleaned the spoon afterward.
When she left the room, James ran upstairs and sent copies of the video to two places.
His own email account.
And his mother's old cloud storage account, which his father had never deleted.
He didn't know whether the recordings would be enough.
But he knew he had to try.
Back in the garden, the reception had become a scene of chaos.
Richard was still holding James's phone.
He replayed the recording with Dr. Carter.
This time, he noticed something in the background.
A framed photograph on the dining room shelf.
It showed Victoria standing beside a man in a black suit.
Richard recognized the man.
It was Martin Hayes.
His company's chief financial officer.
The same man who had handled the paperwork for Richard's estate restructuring.
Richard looked up.
"Where did you get this?""
James answered quietly.
"Three nights ago. I told you.""
Richard replayed the footage.
Then he noticed the envelope.
He zoomed in.
A name was printed on the corner.
M. HAYES.
Richard's face tightened.
"Martin?""
Victoria stepped forward.
"Richard, don't do this.""
He looked at her.
"Why is my CFO's name on that envelope?""
"It could be anything.""
"Why was Dr. Carter paying you?""
"He wasn't paying me!""
"James recorded him counting money.""
"Your son is a liar!""
James shook his head.
"I have another recording.""
Victoria's eyes widened.
Richard turned toward him.
"Another?""
James nodded.
"From the guest room.""
He opened a second video.
The image was dark, but the audio was clear.
Victoria's voice came first.
"Once Richard signs the new documents, everything will be easier.""
A man's voice answered.
"What about James?""
"He's a child. His father will send him away if I ask.""
"And if Richard doesn't sign?""
Victoria paused.
Then she said something that made Richard grip the phone harder.
"Then we'll have to make sure he never gets the chance.""
The guests erupted into whispers.
Richard stared at the screen.
The voice belonged to Martin Hayes.
His closest financial adviser.
His friend of twenty-two years.
Victoria reached toward the phone again.
"That's enough! This is private!""
Richard stepped back.
"Private?""
He turned toward the guests.
"Everyone, please remain where you are.""
He took out his own phone.
"Call the police. And don't let anyone leave.""
Victoria's face changed.
For the first time, the confident woman in the emerald dress looked genuinely terrified.
But before Richard could make the call, his personal security chief hurried across the terrace.
"Mr. Whitmore.""
"What?""
The guard leaned close.
"There's a problem inside the house.""
Richard frowned.
"What problem?""
"The study has been opened. Someone has removed the original company trust documents.""
Richard went still.
"Who?""
The guard swallowed.
"Mrs. Whitmore's driver was seen leaving through the service entrance ten minutes ago.""
Richard turned toward Victoria.
She wasn't looking at him anymore.
She was looking at the main gate.
And James suddenly remembered something.
He grabbed his father's sleeve.
"Dad...""
"What is it?""
James pointed toward the driveway.
"That's not her driver.""
A black car was waiting beyond the gates.
The rear passenger window slowly lowered.
A man inside lifted his hand.
May you like
And Richard recognized him.
Martin Hayes.
