Page 88 of Open Secrets
I arch a brow. “Cece, I presume.”
She smiles, all sweetness. “Yes. And you are—”
“The wife,” I cut in smoothly. “The wife of the man you’re blackmailing. Can I come in?”
Her mouth falls open, shocked. She fumbles to tug her robe tighter and, after a moment, steps aside. I glance back toward the hallway where Debra lingers, then step inside.
Cece’s voice is shaky now. “What are you doing here?”
I drop my purse onto a chair like I own the place. “Well, you asked my husband to ‘take care of you.’ I came to ask exactly what that means.”
She tries to puff her chest, but the effect is ruined when her hand drifts to her stomach. “He owes something to his child,” she says, rubbing her belly like a stage prop.
I bite my lip, then nod. “You’re right. A child deserves a father.”
That makes her blink. “You… agree?”
“I can’t imagine a child going without,” I say, sitting down in the other chair. Calm. Steady. While she sinks back onto the bed, leaning on one hand like she suddenly needs the support. “But you have to understand—before any ‘taking care of’ is done, I’ll require proof.”
Her hand freezes on her stomach. “Proof?”
“You can’t seriously believe we’d just hand you our hard-earned money without knowing for sure that baby is his.”
And just like that, her face changes. The nervous girl act drops, replaced with a smirk that makes my skin crawl.
“It won’t matter,” she says coldly. “Once I go to his commander, it won’t matter if this baby is his or not.”
I nod slowly. “You’re right. It won’t matter. They’ll take his benefits. We’ll probably lose the house. Spiral into debt. Be desperate.”
I lean forward, my smile razor sharp.
“And when we’re desperate, what better lifeline than suing the woman who destroyed our family over a lie?”
Her eyes widen, the smirk faltering. “What do you mean?”
I tilt my head. “I mean we’ll sue you in the court of law. For blackmail. For defamation. For every last cent you cost us. And when the paternity test proves the baby isn’t his?” My voice drops, cutting. “You’ll be the one left ruined.”
Cece stutters, her bravado slipping. “Y-you won’t win. He did fuck me. How can you sit there and defend him?”
I lean back in the chair, crossing my legs like I’ve got all the time in the world. “Oh, sweetheart,” I say softly, almost pitying. “I’m not defending him. Trust me—I could kill him myself half the time.”
Her brows knit in confusion, and I let the silence stretch just long enough before leaning forward again, voice sharp as glass.
“I’m defendingus. My kids. My family. The life we built that you think you can bulldoze for a quick payout.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. She wasn’t expecting that.
Then her lips curl, desperate to claw back power. “You weren’t there. The way he touched me, the way he kept coming back. He just couldn’t get enough of me.”
The words hit, sharp and cruel, meant to sink deep. But all they do is ignite something steady inside me.
“You think screwing a married man makes you powerful?” I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “All it makes you is sloppy. Did you even do your research before you came here?”
She blinks, confused.
“Our daughter had leukaemia,” I continue, my voice dropping, cold and steady. “Her treatment cost nearly a million dollars. We are up to our eyeballs in debt. We don’thavethe money you’re demanding.”
Her eyes narrow, trying to recover. “Your daughter was sick? You’re lying. Soldiers have insurance.”
