A Woman Scorned

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. ~ William Congreve.

AMANDA

Arms crossed, I listened to Robert’s press announcement with a smirk playing on my lips.

My gaze never wavered from his image on the screen.

His face was expressionless as he spoke about the investigation and how his team had apprehended the person responsible for framing him. Then he talked about throwing a party to celebrate his victory.

The speech was monotonous and by far the most blatant but idiotic attempt to set a trap I'd ever seen. For someone so clever, it was always so easy to one-up him.

I knew he was after me earlier today when I learned he’d obtained the club footage. Then, a hotel employee informed me of a search warrant issued in my name. At the same time, I’d thought briefly of my son, Dylan.

Was he worthy of being called my son if he ratted me out to his father? Because that was the only explanation for what was happening.

The bastard.

Despite my threats, he decided to rebel against me. I'd deal w