His Secretary Takes Charge

Chapter 10

After leaving the courthouse, I bought a villa out in the countryside. The backyard was wide and open, filled with rows of lavender, my favorite.

One morning, I was jolted awake by loud, frantic knocking at the front door. Still half-asleep, I shuffled to answer it, only to find a woman standing there, looking like she'd crawled out of a nightmare. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes, empty and sunken, were the only part of her that looked alive. Something about her face tugged at my memory.

"Grace Taylor," she said, voice low but steady. "After all these years, I finally found you."

I blinked, startled. "Who... are you?"

She let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Don't remember? Seven years ago, I set fire to Ethan Carter's house. You were the one who saved him. I still remember the beam that crashed down on you."

She gave a faint smile, like the memory gave her some twisted comfort. I instinctively stepped back.

"Who are you? How do you know about the fire?"

I'd always believed it was just a tragic accident. Back then, I was hospitalized with serious injuries, and Ethan's parents had handled everything. By the time I got better, the whole thing had been swept neatly under the rug.

"My name's Rachel Moore. You must remember."

The name hit me like a punch. Rachel Moore. Back in college, she was unforgettable, brilliant, magnetic, the kind of girl who lit up every room she walked into. I'd seen her around campus a few times, her smile so radiant it felt like sunshine. But the woman standing in front of me now? That light was gone. Only her eyes carried a faint echo of who she used to be.

Rachel began telling her story.

She'd met Ethan at a university debate competition. The connection was instant. A few days later, Ethan admitted he had a girlfriend, but Rachel had already fallen too deep. Against her better judgment, she became the "other woman."

Two years passed. The guilt gnawed at her. The lies weighed her down. Eventually, it all unraveled, her sanity, her will to live. Diagnosed with severe depression, she hit rock bottom. She said she didn't just want to end her life, she wanted to end his, too. That was the night she set the fire.

I stood there frozen. So Ethan's cheating hadn't started with Chloe. It had been a pattern all along, one I never saw.

And his parents? They'd known. They comforted me through my recovery, brought me flowers, called me "family"… all while keeping this secret buried. The memory of their fake concern made me sick.

Rachel's voice snapped me back. "How's Ethan now?"

I told her the truth: he'd moved on, had someone new, and she was expecting his child.

Tears filled Rachel's eyes. "Why?" she whispered. "Why does he get to move on like nothing ever happened? I lost everything, my life, my mind, and he gets a fresh start?"

I gently touched her shoulder. "Rachel, don't give him that power anymore. Let go. You deserve peace."

She gave a bitter smile. "You're stronger than I am, Grace. Seven years later, and you're… okay. Like none of it broke you."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she turned and walked away.

The next morning, her face was all over the news: Woman attacks couple outside hospital, one dead, one in critical condition.

I clicked on a video posted by a bystander. The footage was grainy but clear enough. Ethan and Chloe were outside the hospital entrance, mid-argument. He looked furious. Chloe reached for him, trying to talk, but Ethan slapped her. She collapsed to her knees, hands cradling her belly, sobbing and begging him not to leave.

Then Rachel stepped into frame. She looked calm, even graceful, as she pulled a large knife from her handbag.

Without a moment's hesitation, she shoved Chloe aside and drove the blade straight into Ethan's neck.

The blood sprayed like a fountain. People screamed and ran in every direction. In the chaos, Rachel stood there, unmoving. And then she laughed, a haunting, hollow laugh that echoed through the crowd.

After seven long years, she finally got her revenge.