When the hurricane warning reached our private island, my husband took the final helicopter seat with his pregnant mistress and left me standing in the rain, / Chapter 33 / 40

Chapter 33 - A Viper’s Betrayal

Stepping into the golden glow of the chandelier was Sloane.

She wasn't hiding in terror. She wasn't carrying a baby bump, either. Her sleek, emerald silk gown clung to a perfectly flat waistline. In her manicured hand, she held a silver-plated Beretta, and behind her stood four heavily armed private contractors wearing the insignia of the Sterling Syndicate.

"Bravo, Elena," Sloane purred, her crimson lips curling into a triumphant sneer. "I must admit, when Julian told me you survived the reef, I thought he was hallucinating from the withdrawal. But here you are. Resilient as a cockroach."

I kept my gun trained on Julian, but my peripheral vision locked onto Sloane and her mercenaries. Kaelen had already melted into the darkness of the archway, positioning himself for an enfilade shot.

"A prosthetic belly, Sloane?" I said, keeping my voice steady as ice. "Faking a pregnancy to hijack the last seat on an evacuation chopper. Even for a corporate parasite, that's remarkably pathetic."

Julian blinked in sheer confusion, whipping his head between me and Sloane. "What... what did she say? Sloane... what is she talking about? The baby... our son..."

Sloane didn't even look at him. She laughed—a high, cruel sound that echoed through the marble hall.

"Oh, Julian, you pitiful little boy," Sloane said dismissively. "Did you really think a woman like me would ruin my body for your mediocre bloodline? You were a stepping stone. A weak, gullible heir who signed over his voting shares the second I offered him an ego boost."

Julian’s face crumpled. The realization hit him harder than any bullet could. "You... you used me. You set up the hurricane evacuation. You told me the company was collapsing..."

"The company *is* collapsing, darling," Sloane said smoothly. "Because I sold the Vance offshore liquidity reserves to Sterling three days ago. Elena’s little digital crusade in San Juan gave me the perfect cover to liquidate everything while you two were busy tearing each other apart."

She raised her Beretta, pointing it straight at my heart.

"Drop the weapon, Elena. You handed me Julian’s head on a silver platter, and now you’ve delivered yourself right to my firing squad. Once both Vance heirs are dead in a tragic 'domestic murder-suicide,' Vance International belongs exclusively to Sterling."

"You made one fatal miscalculation, Sloane," I said quietly.