Chapter 2 - The Mourning Monster
Less than four hours after throwing me into the sky, Richard was putting on the performance of a lifetime. Sitting wrapped in warm dry clothes inside the master stateroom of the Vanguard, I watched a live high-definition broadcast streamed directly from the Monterey County Sheriff's Department.
Richard stood before a bank of microphones, surrounded by blinking flashbulbs and clamoring journalists. His expensive cashmere sweater was artfully disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, and tears streamed down his pale cheeks.
"She... she wanted to take a selfie near the open door," Richard choked out, covering his face with trembling hands as two uniformed deputies supported his elbows. "I told her to stay back. I begged her! The wind caught her coat, she lost her footing, and before I could grab her wrist... she was gone. My wife... my unborn child... they were my entire world!"
The journalists gasped in horror. Flashbulbs exploded like miniature lightning bolts across his face. He collapsed into the arms of his crisis PR manager, sobbing uncontrollably. The internet immediately caught fire with breaking news alerts: TRAGEDY OVER PACIFIC: HEIRESS AMELIA HAYES PRESUMED DEAD IN HORRIFIC HELICOPTER ACCIDENT.
"Give the man an Oscar," Marcus muttered coldly, standing beside my chair while crossing his muscular arms. "He already had that PR statement drafted, Amelia. We traced the digital footprint of the press release. It was uploaded to a draft folder on his private laptop three days ago."
"I know," I replied quietly, sipping hot ginger tea. "He thinks he’s an intellectual genius, but he’s remarkably sloppy when he believes he’s unchecked."
My thoughts drifted back to how I had first discovered his betrayal. It hadn’t been a dramatic revelation; it was a string of tiny anomalies. A forgotten password on a shared tablet had revealed encrypted emails between Richard and a woman named Victoria Vance—a senior corporate strategist at Hayes Global Tech and Richard's secret mistress. Victoria had spent years positioning herself as my trusted confidante while simultaneously funneling confidential internal audit reports directly to Richard.
Together, they had forged signature authorizations and drafted a revised living trust. The paperwork stipulated that in the event of my untimely demise before giving birth, all voting shares, intellectual property rights, and board authority would immediately default to Richard without probate delays.
"Look at this," Marcus interrupted, tapping his tablet and switching the monitor feed to a high-rise penthouse in downtown San Francisco.
The security cameras inside the penthouse—which Richard had purchased using an offshore account he thought I couldn't trace—showed Victoria Vance popping the cork of a vintage bottle of Dom Pérignon. Within an hour of his tearful press conference, Richard entered the penthouse through a private elevator.
The grieving widower had vanished completely.
Richard caught Victoria in his arms, spun her around the marble living room, and kissed her passionately on the mouth.
"To the late Amelia Hayes," Richard laughed, raising a crystal glass while pouring champagne over Victoria's collarbone. "May she rest in pieces at the bottom of the Pacific, and may her billions keep us warm for the rest of our lives."
May you like
Watching them laugh made the last lingering piece of sadness in my soul evaporate completely. I felt no heartbreak, no lingering affection, and no remorse for what was about to happen.
"Marcus," I said, my voice as steady as steel. "Contact our legal team in Zurich and the forensic accounting firm in New York. Activate Phase Two. Let's make sure Richard enjoys his victory parade... because it’s going to be the shortest celebration in history."
