Jason’s voice drifted from the living room. “We can’t just get rid of her yet. Not until I figure out what to do with the company.”
“You’ve been saying that for months,” Leslie said.
“Paige isn’t stupid,” Jason muttered. “If she steps down, everything falls apart. The company’s in both our names, but you and I both know I’m only swimming in cash because of her hard work. Once she’s out of the picture, we’ll figure it out. Until then, I can’t risk a divorce.”
I froze, my blood turning cold. So this was their plan. Jason had been using me, milking my company for years—that I had worked blood and sweat just to prove I wasn’t just an adopted daughter—while playing the doting husband.
I was right to leave.
Gripping the banister, I stepped into the living room. Both Jason and Leslie turned toward me, their faces frozen in shock.
“Paige,” Jason said, recovering quickly. His expression softened. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”
Leslie sat stiffly on the couch, her eyes darting between us.
Jason walked toward me, his hand reaching out to brush my arm. “I’m sorry about what happened. I realized my mistake. Why don’t we go out tonight? Just the two of us. Dinner, maybe? We could use some time together.”
I forced a smile, the sweetness in his tone barely concealing the rot beneath. “Sure, Jason. Sounds great.”
Ignoring them both, I turned and headed upstairs.
Once in my room, I moved quickly, throwing clothes into a suitcase and grabbing my essentials. I zipped the bag shut, my mind set on what had to be done.
On my way down the hall, muffled moans stopped me in my tracks. They didn’t even try to hide it. The sound was coming from the guest room.
I paused, but I didn’t have the energy to care. I tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase and continued down the stairs.
In the kitchen, I placed the signed divorce papers on the counter. No explanations. No notes. Just my signature sealing the end of this nightmare.
A cab was waiting outside when I walked out. I tossed my bag in the trunk and slid into the back seat.
“Port 54,” I told the driver.
As we sped through the city, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.
“Mr. Liu,” I said when my company’s financial officer answered. “I need you to finalize the paperwork for the company's fake bankruptcy. Make sure to let Jason believe it. And transfer all the debts to Jason Hill’s name. Effective immediately.”