From Neglected Wife to CEO’s Obsession novel Chapter 72

Two days later, the storm online had mostly blown over, though a few diehards still clung to their insults. I made a note of the loudest ones and went straight to the police. When you’re a good citizen and things get messy, you call for backup.

As for Remy, I wanted to talk things out with him before making any moves. I didn’t even know why I cared so much about having that conversation—maybe I was just another woman who couldn’t walk away from six years of memories.

One of the bodyguards knocked and stepped in, handing me a thick file and a flash drive. His face was stone cold, but he was polite. “Mr. Swanson asked me to give you these. Remy has already crossed the line into criminal behavior. Whether to call the police is up to you, Ms. Greenwood.”

The file was heavy, packed with photos: me tied to the bed at home, me after being rescued, pale and sweating, close-ups of the cuts on my wrists and ankles, even fingerprint reports—five of them—showing Remy’s prints on my skin.

Then there was the video. It was everything—Remy hurting me, the whole thing in HD, no edits, nothing blurred out. I had no idea how Elliot got all this. I couldn’t even imagine what he thought when he saw me like that, so powerless and exposed.

Maybe the bodyguard saw my confusion. He explained, “There were no cameras in your bedroom, Ms. Greenwood. To get evidence, Mr. Swanson requested access to the Eagle Eye satellite system.”

Eagle Eye? Just hearing the name gave me chills. Elliot could really pull that kind of string? Who was he, really?

With this kind of proof, charging Remy would be a sure thing. Given who he was, though, he might walk away with barely a slap on the wrist. But even if he only spent two weeks locked up, it would be something. Bad people should pay for what they do.

Still, that wasn’t what I wanted most. What I really wanted was a divorce. Only by ending it could I finally move on and really start over. Every extra day spent with a man like Remy made me hate myself a little more.

Remy never showed up.

Instead, Julia arrived, holding Cindy by the hand. I told the bodyguard to let them in. He nodded, and the team quietly split up—half stayed at the door, the others took up spots in the corners, always watching me.

Cindy was in a pink tracksuit I didn’t recognize, but on her feet were tiny slippers. It was late autumn, the air chilly, and her toes were red from the cold.

I ignored Julia and scooped Cindy into my arms. I took off her slippers, warming her freezing little feet in my hands, and covered her chubby cheeks with kisses. But maybe I was imagining things—Cindy didn’t seem as eager as before. She let me warm her feet, but when I tried to kiss her again, she turned her face away.