Chapter 9
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Jasmine always thought that once Nadine was gone, her life would be perfect. That Scott would look at her with those eyes that used to drift over her like she was the only woman alive. It had worked, at first.
After Nadine disappeared, Scott clung to Jasmine like a man desperate to fill a hole in his chest. He’d showered her with apologies, flowers, whispered reassurances that she was his everything. She should have felt secure. She should have believed him.
But Jasmine knew better now. Because no matter how many times she climbed into his bed, no matter how sweetly she kissed away his guilt, every time she closed her eyes, she saw that flicker of something dark in his.
Regret. And worse–longing. She’d caught him more than once, staring off into nothing with his jaw clenched, his phone in his hand, flipping through old pictures. She didn’t have to ask who he was looking at.
Nadine.
That bitch. That pitiful, spineless little shadow of a woman who was never supposed to matter. Jasmine had tried to make herself believe Nadine was disposable, a stand–in, a toy, a convenient scapegoat for Scott’s enemies.
But now, Nadine was gone, and yet Scott’s mind wouldn’t let her die.
It made Jasmine sick.
So, she did what she always did best. She played the doting wife, the perfect lover. She draped herself over Scott at dinner, laughed a little too loud at his jokes, laced her fingers with his when they went to bed, moaned his name like a prayer when he touched her.
And he played along, at least on the surface. He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, whispered hollow reassurances that she was all he wanted.
But at night, when he thought she was asleep, she’d hear him on the phone. Giving orders to men she didn’t know. Telling them to find Nadine, to bring her back, to make sure she was safe. Always her. Always Nadine.
One night, Jasmine lay awake, her heart pounding like a war drum. She rolled over and looked at him, Scott’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, his expression hollow.
She’d seen that look before, back when she’d first woken up from the coma.
She knew what she had to do.
1
The next day, while Scott was away handling a deal, Jasmine made her own calls. She found the same men Scott had hired and offered them double whatever Scott was paying. “Don’t find her,” she hissed into the phone. “I don’t care what you have to say. Just make sure she never comes back. If Scott wants updates, tell him you’re looking. Lie if you have to. He doesn’t need her. I am his wife. Not her.”
When she hung up, she felt lighter. The knot in her chest loosened just enough for her to breathe.
17
her.
Jasmine soaked it up like a starving flower. She ordered another round, then another. The more she drank, the more reckless her tongue became.
“He loves me, you know,” she giggled, twirling her glass. “Scott. He’s always loved me. Nadine was just a stand–in. A fool. A pawn.”
One of her friends leaned closer, wide–eyed. “Wasn’t Nadine your best friend, though?”
“Best friend?” Jasmine barked out a laugh so sharp it made a few heads turn. “Please. She was always following him around like a lost puppy. If she hadn’t existed, none of this would’ve happened. She should’ve just stayed away.”
Her friend frowned. “What do you mean, happened?”
Jasmine leaned in conspiratorially, her lips twisting into a venomous smile. “Do you know what I did when I woke up? I made sure she’d never come back. I paid them, the men who hurt her. I told them to do it. To get rid of her once and for all.”
A hush fell over the table. One of the women glanced behind Jasmine, her eyes going wide. But Jasmine didn’t notice. She just kept going, the wine loosening her tongue further.
“I’d do it again, too. Scott doesn’t know. He thinks she left on her own. But as long as she’s gone, he’ll always come back to me. He has to.”
—
She didn’t see him. Just a few steps behind her, half–hidden in the dim bar light – Scott stood frozen, one hand clenched around his phone, the other curling so tightly his knuckles whitened.
He’d come looking for her, half hoping she’d calm his doubts, half wanting to believe her sweetness wasn’t all a lie.
But now? He heard every poisonous word slip from her painted lips. Every bit of venom she’d hidden behind that sickeningly sweet smile.
And in that moment, the final pieces slid into place – the kidnapping, the torture, the lost baby… all of it. Jasmine.
He didn’t step forward. He didn’t shout, or grab her, or demand an explanation. There was nothing left to say. He just stood there, his jaw tight, a single raw truth scraping down his spine: He’d been a fool.
Without a word, Scott turned away from the table, pulled out his phone, and called his lawyer with a voice as cold and flat as winter glass. “File the divorce. Do it now. No negotiations. No settlement. I want her gone.”
