Chapter 6
Before Brandon could even react, a pair of silver handcuffs snapped shut around his wrists
As he staggered to his fo
still dazed, his assistant carne rushing over, nearly breathless!
“Mr. Whitmore–it’s bad. Really bad. A video of you and Madison just went viral. It’s all over the
internet.”
He shoved a tablet into Brandon’s hands. “Stock’s crashing. Every major partner wants to pull out. We’re looking at billions in damages.”
Brandon stared at the screen.
The footage was crystal clear–him and Madison drugging Rachel and abusing her like she was some animal. Every word. Every action. Caught on camera.
The comment section was already a warzone:
“So this is the same Brandon Whitmore who acted like the perfect husband in public? What a monster.”
“She was pregnant, for God’s sake. And they did that? He’s not even human.”
“With his own adopted sister? That’s sick on every level. He should rot.
“Why stop at a vasectomy? Someone should just cut the whole damn thing off.”
Madison stared at the screen, jaw tight, seething with rage.
“It was her. That bitch Rachel. She must’ve known all along. She planted those cameras on purpose -just to catch us. Hell, maybe she even faked the miscarriage to get back at us.”
dutched Brandon’s sleeve in panic.
“We can’t just let her get away with this. She’s trying to destroy us!”
Brandon ripped his arm out of her grasp, eyes bloodshot.
“No. You destroyed me.”
His voice was like a razor–cold/sharp, and deadly.
He lunged at Madison, hand flying toward her throat, but before he could reach her, une officers
tackled him to the ground.
They dragged him away.
By the time the news reached me, I was lounging at a luxury postpartum spa, nibbling on fruit
“What are you going to do now?” my best friend asked quietly, her eyes reddened as they flicked to the still–healing scar on my abdomen. “They’ve already lost everything.”
“I’m divorcing him, obviously,” I said calmly, setting my fork down. “There’s no way I’m staying tied to a man like that for the rest of my life.”
“But with everything blowing up like this, won’t he fight it? If he agrees to the divorce, he’s basically confessing to everything. If he refuses, he can hide behind the ‘kinky couple roleplay‘ excuse in court…”
I picked up the folder beside me and smiled faintly. “Oh, he’ll agree.”
She frowned. “But those videos you released… it’s mutual destruction. You sure you’re okay with
that?”
She still couldn’t bring herself to watch them.
Even here in the most upscale spa in the city–the way people looked at me had changed. Curiosity, disdain, veiled disgust.
I didn’t care.
“Women shouldn’t be defined by what’s been done to their bodies,” I said simply. “I didn’t do anything wrong. So why should I let shame eat me alive?”
Once I’d recovered a bit more, I went to the police station.
Brandon was in the holding cell, unshaven and slumped against the wall. The moment he saw me, he scrambled to his knees like a desperate man clinging to salvation.
“Rachel, I’m sorry. I lost my mind. It was Madison–she pushed me into it. Please, just give me one more chance.
He clung to my legs, eyes filled with pathetic remorse.
“Forgiveness?” I echoed.
I pulled a document from my purse and tossed it at his feet.
Cacniveness.”
He froze, picking it up with shaking hands.
The moment he read it, he collapsed back onto the floor like someone had ripped the ground out
from under him.
“No… no, this can’t be real…”
It was a surgical report–proof that his vasectomy had failed.
He dropped the paper, his face ashen. Then crawled toward me, voice barely above a whisper.
“The baby… that baby…?”
His eyes were full of desperate pleading–begging me not to say the one thing he was most afraid to
hear.
I didn’t speak. I pulled out a second document and unfolded it in front of him.
A DNA report.
“The baby,” I said coldly, “was yours.”
