Blind to the Boss: My Fake Husband's Regret

Manhattan's most exclusive prep school called. They congratulated my son on acing his admissions interview and pushed me to wire a fiftythousanddollar donation.

I gripped my phone, my nails biting deep into my palm. Married for three years, my only child was Juniper, my autistic daughter. Who the hell did this phantom son belong to?

I dialed Spencer. My diplomat husband let out a soft chuckle through the speaker and brushed it off as a cheap scam.

I killed the call and punched in an encrypted line to the Pentagon. "Dad," I said. "Spencer betrayed me. Freeze his offshore accounts." I stared at the blank wall. "Ruin him.

I want him tossed out of my house with absolutely nothing." Chapter 1 "The diplomatic residence in Long Island. Floor it.

I'm going to rip that bitch apart." The driver's eyes lit up in the rearview mirror. He whipped the steering wheel.

The militarygrade SUV launched forward like a missile. "Hold on tight." An hourlong commute vanished in twenty minutes.

The SUV skidded to a dead halt right outside the wroughtiron gates. I ripped off my sunglasses.

I marched straight toward the Secret Service detail in my threeinch heels. "I'm here for Spencer." The armed guard gave me a slow, scanning look and stepped into my path. "Hold it.

Mrs. Spencer is hosting a private party. No entry without her permission." Mrs. Spencer? I slapped his arm out of my way.

I slammed my marriage certificate flush against his chest. "Open your eyes. I'm the only legal owner of this property. I'm Vivienne." He glanced at the paper.

His posture went rigid. "Ma'am, don't play games. We see Mrs. Spencer every day. She's Blaire, the famous pianist." Blaire? A woman dripping in diamonds strolled up to the gate.

She gave me a slow, mocking onceover. "Wow, everyone wants a piece of the elite these days. Sweetheart, Spencer's wife is Blaire.

We just finished afternoon tea." "Are you dressed for the maid interview? Shame. Even the help dresses better than that." I recognized her.

Another diplomat's wife, a notorious social climber in the circle. My knuckles turned bonewhite. Spencer. Blaire. Blaire was the charity case I pulled out of the dirt.

I paid her tuition all the way through college while she cried and promised to repay my kindness. So this was her payback. I ignored the idiotic woman.

My gaze cut right past her, locking onto the figure hurrying down the driveway. Blaire was wearing a limitededition Chanel piece straight from my closet.

The vintage Rolex I bought for Spencer dangled on her wrist. She spotted me. All the blood drained from her face. She stumbled over her own feet. "Vivienne?

Why… why are you back?" I crossed my arms. I stared her down. "Since when do I need to report to you to enter my own house?" Blaire looked like a ghost.

She shot a panicked glance at the gossiping wife, then rushed forward to grab my arm. "Vivienne, you misunderstood! Spencer saw I was having a mental breakdown from cyberbullying.

He let me stay here to recover." "We're just soulmates. Nothing happened!" I yanked my arm back. The force sent her staggering backward. "Explain it right here.

Or are you hiding some dirty little secret inside the house I designed?" I kept my voice dead level, but Blaire flinched. Soulmates. Did she think I was born yesterday?

Acid burned the back of my throat. I lunged. I grabbed the lapels of my own Chanel jacket and slammed her hard against the iron gate. "Give me the passcode.

Or I leak your forged Ivy League transcripts to the press right now." Chapter 2 Tears welled in her eyes, but her feet stayed planted. My patience snapped. "I'll count to three.

Open it, or I'll have my security team smash this gate to pieces—right along with your fake face." She read the absolute deadend in my eyes.

With a shaking hand, she punched the code into the keypad. The lock beeped green. I walked straight past her without a second glance.

Deafening jazz blasted through the foyer, drowning out the chatter of socialites clutching champagne flutes. Above the mantel, my wedding portrait was gone.

In its place hung a massive family photo of Blaire and Spencer sharing a passionate kiss on a Hawaiian beach. She smiled with the easy grace of a woman who owned the place.

The custom Italian silk rug I'd sourced had been swapped for a tacky goldpatterned atrocity.

My curated global art collection was wiped clean, replaced by blownup posters of Blaire's solo piano recitals. A cheap, cloying perfume choked the air.

I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. Blaire trailed behind me. "Vivienne, please don't be mad.

Spencer just had these put up temporarily for my safety…" Her excuses bled into a frantic mumble. Every word was gasoline on an open flame. Footsteps pounded on the stairs.

A boy, maybe four or five, rushed down and threw his arms around Blaire's legs. He held up a violently shredded stuffed animal like a trophy. "Mommy, look!

I tore up the freak's doll! She can't play with it anymore!" My gaze locked onto the ripped fabric. It was a limitededition teddy bear.

My father, Franklin, the man who controlled the largest defense contractor in the country, had won it at auction for Juniper's birthday.

The jagged pieces of the puzzle slammed together. Spencer hadn't just cheated. He had moved his mistress into my sanctuary and let her torment my daughter.

I stared at the two of them. "Where is Juniper?" All the blood drained from Blaire's face, her eyes blowing wide open. But the boy didn't catch the shift in the room.

He pointed a stubby finger right at me. "Who are you, you crazy lady? Get out of my house! You mean that freak who can't even talk?

She got dirt on my rug, so Daddy locked her in the basement storage room with no food!" Blaire slapped her hand over his mouth. A highpitched ringing pierced my eardrums.

The world tilted. My breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. I tore through the house. I ripped open every door, checked every corner, stripped every room bare. Nothing.

No sign of Juniper anywhere. Blaire was crying now, begging me to stop making a scene as she chased me down the hall. I spun around and shoved her hard. She hit the floor.

The entire house was clear. That left only one heavy steel door at the end of the corridor. The basement. A sick, twisting terror gutted my stomach. I lunged for the handle.

Blaire scrambled up. She threw her entire body weight against the door, blocking the lock like a rabid animal.

Behind her, the party guests began to close in, their manicured fingers pointing in outrage. "You are being completely uncivilized!

Get out before you ruin the event!" The blood pounded in my temples.

I drew my leg back to kick Blaire out of the way. "Move." I glared at her. "Or I will break you." Chapter 3 "Stop!" The voice cracked like a whip. A voice I knew better than my own.

Spencer. Before I could turn, a heavy boot slammed into my stomach. The force launched me backward. My spine collided with the oak banister. Pain flared, sharp and blinding.

He didn't even glance at me. He shoved Blaire behind him, locking his eyes on me like I was a home invader with a gun. Blaire melted against his chest.

She didn't say a word, just let her shoulders hitch in perfectly timed, pathetic little sobs.

Spencer stroked her hair. "I've got you," he murmured softly. "Nobody touches my woman in my house and gets away with it." He snapped his head toward me, his gaze lethal.

The eyes I had loved for years were cold and vacant. Then, he froze. The hallway had flooded with party guests.

Elite wives in cocktail dresses whispered behind their hands, pointing their manicured fingers at me. "Ambassador, this psycho barged right in," one of them chirped. "She's running around claiming to be your wife!" "She completely lost it and shoved poor Blaire to the floor.

It was terrifying." A muscle twitched in Spencer's jaw. His gaze darted to the floor, actively dodging mine. I gripped the banister and pulled myself up.

The taste of copper flooded my mouth. "Spencer." I locked my eyes on his. "Where is Juniper?" A single bead of sweat cut down his temple. Blaire's gaze flicked to his tense jaw.

She buried her face in her hands and let out a sharp gasp. "Spencer, it hurts," she whimpered. "She barged in swinging.

She was going to kick me." "If you hadn't walked in… she might have killed me." She subtly dug her nails into her own forearm, then shoved up her sleeve to flash a patch of raw, red skin at the crowd.

On cue, the brat wailed. "Daddy, I'm scared! The bad lady is gonna kill Mommy! Don't let her take my mommy!" Spencer's posture shifted. He swallowed hard.

He looked at the tearstreaked faces of his mistress and the kid, and his spine stiffened.

He turned back to me, his face turning into a mask of pure ice. "Vivienne." He pointed a finger at my face. "Apologize to Blaire right now.

I know you're struggling mentally, but putting your hands on people crosses the line." A harsh, raspy laugh tore from my throat.

I stared at him, my expression deadpan. "Are you blind, or just stupid?" I spat. "She snaps her fingers and you play dead?" "We are still married, Spencer. I am your legal wife.

Do I need to staple the marriage certificate to your forehead so the whole room can read it?" The color drained from Spencer's face.

He cut me off before I could take another breath. "Are you entirely delusional?" he barked, his voice booming for the crowd. "Blaire is my wife.

She always has been." "Vivienne, I know you're desperate.

I know I've helped you out with charity in the past, but you cannot mistake pity for romance." "Showing up at my house to stage a psychotic breakdown?

You're a pathetic gold digger, and I am done humoring you. Get off my property." A gold digger. The words rang in my ears.

I stared at the man standing in my house, wearing the custom suit I bought him, living the life I built for him.

If it weren't for my money and my family's power, he would still be a nobody rotting in a cubicle. He wasn't the Ambassador. I made him the Ambassador.

Chapter 4 The echo of his voice scraped the inside of my skull. I remembered his first diplomatic assignment.

He had spun me around in the middle of the airport terminal, his breath hot against my ear. "Vivienne, you're my lucky charm," he had whispered. "Marrying you is the best thing that ever happened to me.

I swear on my life, I will never betray you." I stared at the stranger wearing my husband's face. Blood rushed to my head.

I lunged at him, aiming my nails straight for his lying eyes. "Spencer! You son of a bitch!" But he lifted weights six days a week.

I was running on zero sleep and transatlantic jet lag. He shoved me hard. I hit the floor.

The back of my skull slammed against the marble tiles, and the ceiling spun into a violent blur. Thump. Thump. Thump. Someone was pounding on the basement door.

A frail, reedy voice bled through the heavy steel. "Mommy… is that you? Help me… I'm so hungry…" My lungs seized. Juniper. My Juniper. Camera lenses flashed.

Phones recorded every second. The socialites hissed to each other like vipers. "What is going on?

Someone's locked down there?" "It sounds like a little girl… I thought the Ambassador only had a son?" "Wait, I remember him bringing a gorgeous little girl to an event once.

We haven't seen her in ages." All the color drained from Spencer and Blaire's faces. They looked like walking corpses.

Trapped by a wall of staring eyes and glowing screens, Spencer gritted his teeth and unlocked the basement door.

It barely opened an inch before a tiny, skeletal frame squeezed through. She stumbled blindly forward and crashed directly into my chest. "Mommy! You came back!

They told me… they told me you threw me away." I wrapped my arms around her. Hot tears spilled over my eyelashes and burned my cheeks. My Juniper. It had only been a few months.

How was she just skin and bones? She shivered in a filthy, oversized tshirt. Dark, overlapping bruises painted her fragile arms. The crowd gasped.

The whispers turned into a roar. "Oh my god! Isn't that the Ambassador's daughter? Why is she calling that woman 'Mommy'?" "She was locked in the basement!

Look at her, she's starving… That's straightup child abuse! Someone call the cops!" Spencer and Blaire stood frozen. Blaire snapped out of it first.

She lunged forward, her hands clawing out to rip Juniper from my grip. "Juniper, sweetie, don't call a stranger 'Mommy.' You're just confused from the dark.

Come here to Mommy." Juniper thrashed wildly against me. "You're not my mommy! You're a monster!" "You stole my daddy and locked me in the dark!

And your ugly son ripped up the bear Grandpa Franklin gave me!" Juniper buried her face into my neck, refusing to look at her.

Blaire's face cycled through shades of sickly green and white.

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she forced her sweet, innocent mask to stay glued on in front of the elite crowd.

Seeing their entire carefully crafted reality crashing down, Spencer hardened his jaw. Chapter 5 "Enough! Everyone, calm down!" He took a deep, theatrical breath.

The muscles in his jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Everyone, I didn't want to air dirty laundry, but you force my hand." He gestured toward Juniper. "This child is the orphan of a junkie relative I've been supporting.

She was born addicted to meth. Her brain never developed properly, and she suffers from severe, violent mania." "When she has her episodes, she hallucinates. She attacks people.

She even attacks herself." "My wife, Blaire, has a heart of gold.

She couldn't stomach sending her to a state facility, so we took her in." He let out a ragged sigh. "We had no choice.

We only isolate her in the basement when she spirals out of control, just to stop her from hurting herself—or us." He delivered the lie with the cadence of a seasoned politician.

The crowd ate it up. Their expressions shifted from horror to collective sympathy. "Oh, that makes so much sense! I knew the Ambassador and Blaire were saints.

They would never abuse a child!" "Exactly! And this psycho woman barged in to make a scene. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!" "Ambassador, call the cops!

Send these two where they belong. It's not safe to have them here." Blaire didn't miss a beat.

She pressed herself deeper into Spencer's chest, her voice trembling like a frightened bird. "Yes, Spencer, please call the psych ward.

Have this crazy woman locked in the highsecurity wing before she hurts someone else." The brat hopped up and down, pointing his stubby finger at the little girl in my arms. "And her!

Throw her back in the orphanage! I don't ever want to see her ugly face again!" A muscle ticked in Spencer's locked jaw. He gave a firm nod.

I ground my teeth together so hard my jaw popped. I thought he was just a cheating bastard. I never imagined the rot went this deep. He wanted to wipe us off the map.

Juniper wailed, a raw, terrifying sound. She wriggled out of my grip and threw herself at Spencer, wrapping her bruised little arms around his leg. "Daddy, what are you saying?

I'm Juniper! I'm your daughter! Please, don't send me and Mommy away!" The man who used to rush her to the ER for a scraped knee curled his lip at her.

He kicked his leg out, sending her tiny body tumbling across the marble. "Don't touch me," he sneered. "I let you eat my food and sleep under my roof.

My charity ends here." He snatched up the wall intercom, barking orders to the estate's private armed security team. "I have two psychotic trespassers in the foyer.

Drag them out and dump them at the state psychiatric hospital's intensive wing.

Make sure they never see daylight again." Within seconds, a tactical team of armed guards swarmed the hall, forming a tight perimeter around us. "Trash," a socialite muttered. "The Ambassador takes them in, and they pull this." "They belong in a padded cell." Juniper shook violently, dropping to her knees on the cold tile, still crying out for the man who threw her away.

I pulled her back into my chest and wrapped my arms around her. I let the absolute silence settle over me, my gaze sweeping coldly across the sea of pathetic, painted faces.

The captain of the security detail stepped forward to grab my shoulder. Then, he froze. His hand hovered in midair. He stared dead at my face, all the color draining from his own.

Chapter 6 I locked eyes with the hesitating security captain, then swept my gaze across his tactical squad. "What are you standing around for?

Restrain this diplomatic scum for abuse of power, adultery, child abuse, and attempted false imprisonment." Spencer blinked, then let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Vivienne, you really have lost your mind.

Who the hell do you think you are?" He puffed out his chest. "I am the youngest Ambassador in this country's history.

Even General Franklin from the Pentagon personally handpicked and promoted me!" "You could grow wings right now, and my men are still throwing you in a padded cell." The brat threw himself at Spencer's legs, cackling. "Daddy is the best!

Grab the crazy ladies!" Blaire smirked, flashing a massive, flawless diamond on her left hand. "You're amazing, babe.

Don't let this psycho ruin our engagement party." While their pictureperfect little family put on a show, the tactical guards unclipped their batons.

Blaire's smile stretched wider. She strutted over, staring down her nose at me. "Scared yet? Drop to your knees.

Lick my heels clean, then make your little mute brat bark like a dog." "Do that, and maybe I'll ask Spencer to put you in a room with a window." A ripple of cruel laughter rolled through the crowd.

A tiny blur darted past me. Juniper slammed her skinny hands into Blaire's knees, knocking the woman off balance. "No! Leave my mommy alone!" My chest tightened.

Juniper's frail shoulders trembled, yet she stood planted right in front of me like a human shield. "You little mutt!" The brat shrieked and lunged, claws out, aiming straight for Juniper's face.

I yanked her behind me, bracing for the hit. A guard moved faster. He snatched the screaming boy by the collar and hauled him back. Tires screeched outside.

A fleet of black armored SUVs swarmed the estate. Heavily armed FBI agents breached the doors in a wave of black tactical gear.

They hit the floor, slamming Spencer and Blaire facefirst into the marble among the shattered glass. The brat thrashed against the guard holding him. "Let me go! You idiots!

Let my daddy and mommy go and arrest the crazy ladies!" Blaire shrieked, her cheek squashed against the floor. "What are you doing?

Spencer, what is happening?!" Spencer writhed beneath a 200pound agent. A ziptie ripped tight around his wrists.

He spat out a mouthful of dust and roared. "Have you lost your minds? Didn't you hear my orders? Arrest them!" A senior FBI agent flashed a gold shield.

He dug the cold muzzle of his service weapon directly into the base of Spencer's skull. "Spencer, you are under arrest.

You're facing federal charges for transnational money laundering, defrauding the United States government, and a dozen other felonies.

You have the right to remain silent." The agent snapped his gaze to the squirming pianist. "And you, Ms. Blaire.

You are under arrest for identity fraud, forging academic credentials, criminal conspiracy to commit grand larceny, and felony child abuse.

You're both coming with us." Dead silence dropped over the foyer. The party guests stood frozen like statues. Then, the whispering erupted. "What the hell is going on?

The crazy lady is the real wife? The pianist is the mistress?" "Oh my god, and child abuse? They seemed like such a perfect couple!" "Who exactly is Vivienne, anyway?

With that kind of pull… is she someone untouchable?" Chapter 7 Spencer strained against the agent pinning him to the floor. His face burned a blotchy purple. "Bullshit!

I would never do something like this!" He thrashed his shoulders. "I am an Ambassador!

Let me go right now, or the second I report this to the State Department, I will have all your badges!" A dry laugh escaped my lips.

I smoothed Juniper's matted hair, gently handed her to a female FBI agent, and walked over to my husband. I raised my arm and slapped him across the face. Smack.

The sharp crack echoed through the massive foyer. One wasn't enough. I hit him again. Backhand. Forehand.

I kept swinging until my palms went numb and a trickle of dark blood pooled in the corner of his swollen mouth.

I finally dropped my hand. "An Ambassador?" I tilted my head, looking down at his pathetic frame. "Spencer, do you actually believe your own delusions?

Or are you just playing dumb about how you got that title?" He glared up at me. He couldn't move his arms, so he spit the blood onto the marble. "How else?

I earned it with my own Ivy League degrees and relentless hard work!" I actually laughed out loud. "Hard work? You are a pathetic leech who rode my coattails to the top.

If it weren't for my family's defense contracts injecting millions into your campaigns, you'd be fetching coffee for a Dlist senator in D.C." I crouched down to his eye level. "Listen to me.

Without my family's money, you are absolutely nothing." His face cycled through a sickly palette of white and green. He ground his teeth together. "Bullshit!

Who the hell do you think you are?

I don't know how much you paid to bribe my security detail, but Vivienne, you just wait." "The second I'm out of here, I will bury you." "Is that so?" I stood up, smoothing the front of my jacket. "I look forward to it." Blaire was still sobbing on the floor. "Vivienne, stop it.

I know you're obsessed with Spencer, but just because you can't have him doesn't mean you have to destroy him.

Aren't you afraid of karma?" Her brat kicked his feet and screamed. "Yeah! Ugly witch!" "Let my daddy and mommy go! My daddy will squish you!" "Oh?

Who exactly is going to do the squishing?" A booming, thunderous voice rolled through the open entrance. Everyone snapped their heads toward the door.

The heavy, rhythmic chopping of an Apache attack helicopter vibrated the glass windows. Three armored Escalades smashed right through the wroughtiron security gates.

An elderly man in an immaculate tailored suit stepped into the foyer. The Congressional Medal of Honor gleamed on his lapel.

Over a dozen exNavy SEALs flanked him in a tight, impenetrable formation. Every single private security guard in the residence slammed their boots together.

They threw up crisp, rigid military salutes. "General, sir!" Spencer twisted his neck to see the door. A feverish, desperate light ignited in his eyes. "General Franklin!

Sir, you have to help me!" He pointed his chin at me. "This crazy bitch forged federal orders!

She's trying to frame me with fake charges!" Blaire looked at him in total confusion. "Babe, who is this?" "This is the man I told you about.

The Pentagon titan who personally promoted me. General Franklin!" Spencer hissed at her. "Blaire, hurry up, greet the General!" Blaire instantly swallowed her tears.

She plastered on her most perfect, elegant pageant smile and simpered. "General Franklin, it is such an honor. I am Spencer's wife, Blaire.

As you can see, this lunatic is harassing us—" "Wife