PART 2: THE KING’S FIANCÉE HAD A ᴅᴇᴀᴅLY SECRET

“After the honeymoon,” Sloane whispered, “Julian will be gone, and everyone will believe it was an unfortunate accident. By then, I’ll have control of his fortune.”

Brynn swallowed nervously. “And if he changes his will before the wedding?”

Sloane smiled.

“He won’t have time.”

Then she revealed the detail that made my stomach turn.

The brakes on Julian’s private car had already been tampered with. The plan was to take him on a secluded mountain road during their honeymoon, where one sudden turn would send the vehicle over the edge.

And the most terrifying part?

The mechanic who had arranged everything was someone Julian trusted with his life.

I stumbled backward, accidentally knocking a tray against the wall.

The sound echoed through the restroom.

Silence.

“Who’s there?” Sloane demanded.

I ran.

I didn’t stop until I reached the service elevator, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. I had worked at Aster Row for three years, but never had I felt so frightened of the people I served.

I had two choices: stay silent and pretend I knew nothing, or tell the most dangerous man in Manhattan that the woman he planned to marry was preparing to kill him.

I knew what happened to people who betrayed Julian Mercer.

But I also knew what would happen if I did nothing.

That night, I waited outside his private office.

When his guards tried to stop me, I said five words that changed everything.

“Tell Julian it’s about Sloane.”

Within seconds, I was standing before him.

Julian sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, his black suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. Two armed men stood near the door.

“You have thirty seconds, Tess,” he said quietly. “Make them count.”

My hands trembled.

“Your fiancée isn’t pregnant.”

For the first time since I’d known him, Julian looked completely stunned.

“What did you say?”

I explained everything: the silicone belly, the fake ultrasounds, the doctor she’d paid, and the conversation I’d overheard.

He didn’t interrupt once.

When I finished, he stood slowly.

“Are you certain?”

“I saw it with my own eyes. And Julian…” My voice cracked. “She’s planning to kill you.”

His expression changed.

The grief I’d seen in him for years disappeared behind something colder.

“Who else knows?”

“Brynn. Dr. Keene. And whoever is helping with the car.”

Julian reached for his phone and made a single call.

“Lock down the garage. Nobody leaves until I say so. Find every payment made to Dr. Keene in the last six months. Quietly.”

Then he looked at me.

“You understand what you’ve just done?”

I nodded, fighting back tears.

“You’ve put yourself in danger.”

“I couldn’t let her do this to you.”

For a moment, something softened in his eyes.

Then his phone buzzed.

A message appeared on the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: YOUR WAITRESS TALKS TOO MUCH. IF YOU WANT HER ALIVE, SEND HER HOME ALONE.

Julian read it twice.

His jaw тιԍнтened.

Before either of us could speak, another message arrived.

This one contained a pH๏τograph.

It showed me leaving my apartment that morning.

Someone had been watching me.

Julian immediately ordered his guards to bring me somewhere secure. But as they escorted us toward the underground garage, a sharp alarm sounded throughout the building.

One of his men rushed toward him.

“Boss, we’ve got a problem. The car ᴀssigned to your honeymoon trip is missing.”

Julian’s face turned pale.

“That car wasn’t supposed to leave the garage until tomorrow.”

The guard hesitated.

“There’s something else. We found a body in the mechanic’s workshop.”

My blood ran cold.

Julian turned to me.

“Did Sloane mention anyone else?”

I desperately searched my memory. Then I remembered the final words I’d heard before escaping the restroom.

Sloane had told Brynn, “Once Julian is gone, the person who helped me will finally get what he deserves.”

At the time, I’d ᴀssumed she meant money.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Julian,” I whispered, “I think she’s working with someone inside your organization.”

He stared at me for a long moment before giving an order that made every guard in the room freeze.

“Bring Sloane here. Alive.”

But before anyone could move, the elevator doors opened.

Sloane stepped out in a stunning white dress, one hand resting on her fake pregnancy belly.

She looked directly at me.

Then she smiled.

“Oh, Tess,” she said sweetly. “You really should have minded your own business.”

She turned toward Julian, her expression suddenly trembling with convincing tears.

“Darling, thank goodness you’re here. Someone has been threatening me.”

Julian didn’t move.

“Who?”

Sloane pointed straight at me.

“Her.”

I felt the room tilt.

Then she pulled a folded document from her handbag and placed it on Julian’s desk.

“There’s something else you need to know about your little waitress.”

Julian unfolded the paper.

His eyes moved across the page.

Once.

Twice.

Then he looked at me as if he no longer recognized me.

Because the document wasn’t about the restaurant, the fake pregnancy, or the threat against his life.

It was a medical record bearing my full name.

And beneath it was a handwritten note:

TESS CALLAHAN KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED TO ELISE MERCER.

I stared at the words, unable to understand them.

Elise had died six years ago. I’d never met her. I’d never even seen a pH๏τograph of her until Julian showed me one at the restaurant.

So why would Sloane claim I knew anything about his ᴅᴇᴀᴅ wife?

Julian’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“Tess… what is this?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’ve never seen that document before.”

Sloane’s smile widened.

“Then perhaps you should tell him about your mother.”

My heart stopped.

I hadn’t spoken about my mother in years. As far as I knew, no one in Julian’s world even knew her name.

But Sloane did.

And when she leaned toward me and whispered the next sentence, I finally understood that the fake pregnancy was only the beginning.

“Your mother didn’t die of natural causes, Tess.”

She glanced at Julian.

“And Elise Mercer wasn’t the only woman he buried.”

Then she slipped a small pH๏τograph onto the desk.

Julian reached for it.

The moment he saw the face in the picture, every trace of color drained from his own.

Because standing beside Elise was a woman who looked exactly like me.

And on the back of the pH๏τograph were four words that threatened to destroy everything Julian believed:

ASK WHO REALLY KILLED ELISE.