Chapter 3

The morning after the gala, my face was on every gossip site in the city.

ELLIOT CROSS'S EX-WIFE STUNS AT ASHFORD GALA — AND SHE'S NOT THE BROKEN WOMAN HE LEFT BEHIND.

I scrolled through the headlines with my coffee, unbothered. Let them talk. The more attention on me, the less attention on what Daniel and I were building behind the scenes.

My phone rang. An unknown number. I hesitated, then answered.

"Mrs. Cross?"

I bristled at the name. "It's Whitfield now."

A pause. "Ms. Whitfield. My name is Marcus Hale. I'm the chief financial officer of Cross Industries."

I set down my coffee, every nerve in my body sharpening. "I know who you are, Mr. Hale."

"Then you know I don't make calls like this without reason." His voice was measured, careful. "I'd like to meet. Privately."

I leaned back in my chair. The CFO of my ex-husband's company was calling me—directly, secretly, the morning after I had publicly humiliated Elliot at a gala.

This wasn't a coincidence.

"When?" I asked.

"Today. There's a café on Lexington, corner of 72nd. Noon."

I glanced at the clock. Two hours. "I'll be there."

Marcus Hale arrived before me. He was older than I expected—mid-fifties, silver-haired, with the kind of face that had survived decades of corporate warfare. He stood when I approached, extending a hand.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

I sat across from him, crossing my legs. "You said this was important."

He didn't waste time. "I've worked for the Cross family for twenty-three years. I've watched Elliot take over the company, and I've watched him run it into the ground."

I kept my expression neutral. "That's a bold thing to say about your employer."

"It's the truth." He folded his hands on the table. "Elliot is reckless. He's been funneling company funds into personal accounts, hiding losses from the board, and making deals that benefit him—not the shareholders."

My pulse quickened, but I didn't show it. "Why are you telling me this?"

Marcus met my gaze. "Because I know what you're doing, Ms. Whitfield. The patent acquisition. The meetings with Elliot's competitors. You're not just moving on—you're dismantling him."

I said nothing.

He continued. "I want to help."

I studied him carefully. A man like Marcus didn't betray his employer without a reason. "What's in it for you?"

"Survival," he said simply. "When Cross Industries collapses—and it will—I want to be on the right side."

I considered his words, turning them over in my mind. If Marcus was telling the truth, he could give me everything I needed to destroy Elliot from the inside. Financial records. Board communications. Evidence of fraud.

But if he was lying—if this was a trap set by Elliot—I would be walking straight into it.

"I'll think about it," I said, standing.

Marcus nodded. "Don't think too long. Elliot's already suspicious. After last night, he knows you're not the woman he threw away."

I paused at his words, something cold settling in my stomach.

"He's right," I said. "I'm not."

I left the café and called Daniel immediately.

"Marcus Hale just offered to flip," I said.

Silence on the other end. Then: "That changes everything."

"I know."

"Clara." Daniel's voice shifted, turning serious. "If Elliot finds out what we're doing before we're ready—"

"He won't."

"You can't be sure of that. He's already watching you. After last night, he's going to dig."

I stopped walking, staring at my reflection in a storefront window. The woman staring back at me looked nothing like the girl who had once trembled at Elliot's indifference.

"Let him dig," I said. "By the time he finds anything, it'll be too late."

I hung up and slipped the phone into my pocket.

But as I turned the corner, I stopped dead.

A black Maybach was parked at the curb. And leaning against it, arms crossed, eyes locked directly on me—

Was Elliot.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

He pushed off the car and walked toward me, each step deliberate, predatory. His expression wasn't angry. It was worse.

It was curious.

"We need to talk," he said.