I Said 'I Do' to My Mother's Killer - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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"Built an empire, stayed faithful to one woman - it's straight out of a Hollywood romance!" The elevator ding announced my arrival at the executive floor.
Outside Matt's office, familiar voices spilled into the hallway.
"Is he treating you well?" Matt's question carried an odd tension.
"Oh, he's wonderful," Taylor practically purred. "Just bought me a private island last week - said it was to make up for our missed honeymoon. Can you believe it? Five years married and he still acts like a lovesick puppy..."
Matt's response came slow and thick, like molasses dripping from a broken jar: "Good. That's... good to hear."
Taylor's voice turned sly. "But you - these extravagant gifts? If Fiona finds out—"
Same old Taylor. Always grabbing with both hands while twisting the knife. I remembered her sprinting to the hospital when Gregg called off our engagement, delivering the news straight to my mother's bedside with theatrical pity. Mom collapsed on the spot - emergency surgery that night.
I'd screamed myself hoarse at Taylor, but when the men arrived, suddenly I was the hysterical one. That day I cut ties with Gregg and Taylor forever... and let Matt become my white knight.
Now he was the one holding the dagger.
The office door flew open as a harried secretary nearly bowled me over. Matt's eyes widened like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Fiona! This isn't— Taylor just stopped by to discuss the O'Donnell project—"
"Long time no see," Taylor drawled, rising like a panther from her chair. Her custom couture probably cost more than my monthly allowance. Meanwhile, I might as well have been wearing potato sacks.
I forced a smile, acid burning my throat. "Just shopping nearby. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Matt scrambled after me, babbling excuses. Almost funny, really. He'd gutted our profits to land O'Donnell's business just to orbit Taylor's universe, and now this pathetic performance?
"Relax," I said coolly. "I'm not the jealous type. You focus on work - I'll be the perfect little housewife."
The relief on his face could power small appliances. He even had his secretary chaperone me out. But the elevator doors hadn't fully closed before the whispers started - secretaries giggling, junior execs not bothering to lower their voices as they called me "the charity case wife."
Five years ago, Matt had insisted I quit my job. "Let me take care of you," he'd said, stroking my hair like I was some fragile doll. Meanwhile, Taylor - who barely passed our business courses - now ran major projects at O'Donnell Group.
Mission accomplished, Matt. Your precious Taylor has nothing left to fear from me.
At home, I methodically packed every gift, every memento from our marriage. The backyard bonfire roared to life, hungry flames licking at five years of lies—
"Still pathetic." Taylor materialized like a nightmare, kicking the burning box. Embers exploded like fireworks, some landing on her designer blouse. She didn't even flinch.
"Couldn't save your mother. Can't even keep your man. You're a walking punchline, Fiona."
White-hot rage detonated in my chest. My palm connected with her cheek with a crack—not even that hard, but she staggered back... straight into the fire.
Outside Matt's office, familiar voices spilled into the hallway.
"Is he treating you well?" Matt's question carried an odd tension.
"Oh, he's wonderful," Taylor practically purred. "Just bought me a private island last week - said it was to make up for our missed honeymoon. Can you believe it? Five years married and he still acts like a lovesick puppy..."
Matt's response came slow and thick, like molasses dripping from a broken jar: "Good. That's... good to hear."
Taylor's voice turned sly. "But you - these extravagant gifts? If Fiona finds out—"
Same old Taylor. Always grabbing with both hands while twisting the knife. I remembered her sprinting to the hospital when Gregg called off our engagement, delivering the news straight to my mother's bedside with theatrical pity. Mom collapsed on the spot - emergency surgery that night.
I'd screamed myself hoarse at Taylor, but when the men arrived, suddenly I was the hysterical one. That day I cut ties with Gregg and Taylor forever... and let Matt become my white knight.
Now he was the one holding the dagger.
The office door flew open as a harried secretary nearly bowled me over. Matt's eyes widened like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Fiona! This isn't— Taylor just stopped by to discuss the O'Donnell project—"
"Long time no see," Taylor drawled, rising like a panther from her chair. Her custom couture probably cost more than my monthly allowance. Meanwhile, I might as well have been wearing potato sacks.
I forced a smile, acid burning my throat. "Just shopping nearby. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Matt scrambled after me, babbling excuses. Almost funny, really. He'd gutted our profits to land O'Donnell's business just to orbit Taylor's universe, and now this pathetic performance?
"Relax," I said coolly. "I'm not the jealous type. You focus on work - I'll be the perfect little housewife."
The relief on his face could power small appliances. He even had his secretary chaperone me out. But the elevator doors hadn't fully closed before the whispers started - secretaries giggling, junior execs not bothering to lower their voices as they called me "the charity case wife."
Five years ago, Matt had insisted I quit my job. "Let me take care of you," he'd said, stroking my hair like I was some fragile doll. Meanwhile, Taylor - who barely passed our business courses - now ran major projects at O'Donnell Group.
Mission accomplished, Matt. Your precious Taylor has nothing left to fear from me.
At home, I methodically packed every gift, every memento from our marriage. The backyard bonfire roared to life, hungry flames licking at five years of lies—
"Still pathetic." Taylor materialized like a nightmare, kicking the burning box. Embers exploded like fireworks, some landing on her designer blouse. She didn't even flinch.
"Couldn't save your mother. Can't even keep your man. You're a walking punchline, Fiona."
White-hot rage detonated in my chest. My palm connected with her cheek with a crack—not even that hard, but she staggered back... straight into the fire.
End of I Said 'I Do' to My Mother's Killer Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to I Said 'I Do' to My Mother's Killer book page.