A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 159

Herbert drove Starla directly to Cosmos Summit. During the entire drive, neither of them mentioned Fairfax's name.

As she got out of the car, Herbert said, "It's gone too far. There's no way you and Fairfax can stay together now. There are people in the Yelchin family who want you dead." He paused, his gaze meeting hers. For a second, Starla felt as if she could drown in the depths of his eyes.

"And," Herbert continued gravely, "there's more than one of them."

Starla's heart sank. He was right. It wasn't just one person. From the Yelchin matriarch to Harriet Seabrook, the city's elite were used to getting their way. No one ever dared to defy them. Her actions over the past few weeks had been a series of slaps to their collective faces. The moment she had decided to fight back, she had declared war not only on the Yelchin family, but on Fairfax himself.

"Thank you for the warning," she said quietly.

"Go inside and get some rest."

"And thank you for everything these past few days," she added sincerely. She was especially grateful for his help in dismantling Brinley's public image. Brinley's reputation was now in ruins. The facade of the powerful, independent woman had crumbled, her accomplishments exposed as stolen. Starla wondered if she could even hold onto her vice president position at Yelchin Group now that the company's shareholders were surely in an uproar.

...

Inside, Starla sank onto the sofa. The butler immediately instructed a maid to bring her a blanket. She had been lying there for less than ten minutes when a delivery arrived. The butler brought the package in.

"Ma'am, this is from Mr. Farley. For your health."

Starla frowned slightly at the news that Herbert was sending her gifts, but she just said, "Leave it there."

She didn't have the energy to deal with the complexities of her relationship with Herbert right now. The most pressing matter was her divorce from Fairfax.

Starla considered it. A two-pronged attack to secure a divorce? The thought was dramatic, almost absurd. But it was also tempting.

"Fine. Do what you want."

"Good," Yardley said, a note of relief in his voice. "I was worried you still had feelings for him. I'm glad to hear you don't."

Still had feelings for him?

No. Those had died six months ago, during the endless nights he had spent away from home, all for Brinley.