Chapter 9: Shadows of the Past

The Phoenix mansion felt colder than ever. Stephanie stood in what was supposed to be her private office—a sunlit room Leon had promised she could redesign. But the staff had spent the morning dismantling her efforts, their loyalty to Genevieve etched into every dismissive glance.

“The curtains are vintage Italian silk, madam,” the head housekeeper sniffed, yanking down Stephanie’s choice of cream linen. “We can’t have them replaced with… *bargain bin rags*.”

Stephanie’s nails dug into her palms. “I’m your employer’s wife —”

“And I’ve served this family for twenty years.” The woman smirked. “Tempers fade. Blood doesn’t.”

Left alone in the striped room, Stephanie slumped into the leather chair Leon rarely used. Her reflection in the gilded mirror mocked her—a doll in a dollhouse, powerless to change even the wallpaper.

A knock shattered the silence.

“Mrs. Phoenix?” A maid hovered in the doorway, avoiding her gaze. “There’s a… *guest*.”

Adriana stood in the foyer, draped in a fur coat that cost more than Stephanie’s entire wardrobe. Her crimson lips curved into a serpent’s smile.

“Darling Stephanie!” She air-kissed her cheeks, reeking of jasmine and malice. “I’ve come to return Leon’s things. He left them at my penthouse last week.”

Stephanie’s throat tightened. “His things?”

“Oh, you know how he is.” Adriana dropped a velvet box into her hands. Inside lay a platinum cufflink engraved with *L.P.*—Leon’s initials. “So *forgetful* after… *late nights*.”

Stephanie’s grip trembled. “He hasn’t mentioned you.”

“Hasn’t he?” Adriana’s laugh tinkled like broken glass. She leaned in, her whisper a poison dart. “Funny. He *screams* my name often enough.”

---

Stephanie fled to Leon’s study, the cufflink burning in her pocket. The room smelled of him—sandalwood and secrets. She yanked open drawers, desperate for proof he wasn’t the monster Adriana painted.

And there it was.

Tucked beneath a stack of contracts, glinting like a betrayal: a single pearl earring. *Adriana’s*. Stephanie recognized it from the tabloid photos—the same one she’d worn the night she’d dragged Leon into that hotel.

The door slammed open.

“What the hell are you doing?” Leon’s voice cracked like a whip.

Stephanie whirled, clutching the earring. “Careful, *Mr. Phoenix*. Wouldn’t want your *wife* to find this.”

Leon froze. For a heartbeat, raw panic flickered in his eyes—then vanished. “Adriana’s been here,” he said flatly. “She enjoys theatrics.”

“And you enjoy *her*!” Stephanie hurled the earring at him. It struck his chest, falling soundlessly to the Persian rug. “Was our marriage just another game? Another way to *punish her*?”

Leon stepped closer, his gaze glacial. “You agreed to this.”

“I agreed to be your *wife*, not your pawn!”

He caught her wrist, his grip bruising. “You knew what I was when you said *yes*.”

---

Nightfall brought no peace. Stephanie paced the bedroom, Adriana’s taunts echoing in her skull. *He screams my name*. She pressed her hands to her stomach, the baby a silent witness to her unraveling.

Headlights cut through the darkness. Leon’s car. *Early*.

She met him at the top of the stairs, her rage a living thing. “Did you even go to the office, or were you—”

The words died.

There, just above his collar, bloomed a lurid purple bruise. A *hickey*.

Leon followed her gaze. For the first time, he looked… guilty.

Stephanie’s laugh was hollow. “You couldn’t even hide it.”

“Stephanie—”

She backed away, tears scalding her cheeks. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

The house phone rang, shrill and relentless. Leon answered, his face draining of color. “What do you mean she’s gone?” He wheeled on Stephanie, eyes blazing. “Where is Adriana? *What did you do?*”

**Chapter 9: Shadows of the Past (Continued)**

The phone slipped from Leon’s hand, clattering to the marble floor. Stephanie stood frozen, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the chandelier’s harsh glow. Leon’s accusation hung between them like a blade.

“What did you do?” he repeated, his voice raw.

Stephanie recoiled. “You think *I* hurt her? After what *you* did?” She gestured wildly at the hickey on his neck, the mark glaring under the light. “You’re the one who can’t stay away from her!”

Leon raked a hand through his hair, his composure fracturing. “Stephanie, it’s not what you think—”

“Save it.” Her voice cracked. “I found her earring in your study. You’ve been lying to me since the beginning. Was any of this real? Or was I just a pawn in your twisted game with Adriana?”

He stepped toward her, but she backed away, her spine hitting the cold wall. “Don’t touch me.”

The mansion’s silence thickened, broken only by the distant wail of wind against the windows. Leon’s jaw tightened. “Adriana’s missing. Her assistant said she never came home last night.”

Stephanie barked a bitter laugh. “And you assume *I’m* responsible? Maybe she’s off playing another one of her games. Or maybe she finally realized you’re not worth the chase.”

Leon’s eyes flashed. “This isn’t a joke. If anything happens to her—”

“What?” Stephanie snapped. “You’ll divorce me? Throw me out? Go ahead. At least then I’ll be free of this hell!”

The words hung in the air, sharp and final. Leon stared at her, his chest heaving. Then, without another word, he snatched his keys from the hall table and stormed out, the front door slamming like a gunshot.

---

Stephanie sank to the floor, her trembling hands clutching her abdomen. The baby kicked, a faint flutter that only deepened her anguish. *How could I bring a child into this mess?*

Her gaze drifted to Leon’s study, the door still ajar. Shadows stretched across the threshold, taunting her. She stood, her legs unsteady, and crossed the room.

The study was a tomb of secrets. She rifled through Leon’s desk, scattering papers until she found it—a manila folder labeled *Montgomery Holdings*. Inside were photos of Adriana: leaving a nightclub, boarding a private jet, laughing with a silver-haired man Stephanie recognized from Forbes. Leon’s annotations filled the margins. *Meeting with investors? New alliance?*

Beneath the photos lay a contract. Stephanie’s breath caught.

Clause 12.1: In the event of Adriana Montgomery’s incapacitation or death, all shares of Montgomery Holdings revert to Leon Phoenix.

Her blood ran cold. *Incapacitation or death*.

A key turned in the front door. Stephanie shoved the folder back, her pulse roaring.

“Stephanie?” Leon’s voice echoed down the hall.

She slipped into the corridor, her heart in her throat. He stood in the foyer, his coat dusted with rain, a police officer at his side.

“Mrs. Phoenix,” the officer said, removing his hat. “We need to ask you a few questions about Adriana Montgomery’s whereabouts.”

Leon wouldn’t meet her eyes.

The officer held up an evidence bag. Inside was Stephanie’s scarf—stained with blood. “This was found near the docks. Care to explain how it got there?”