Sandra Taylor was absolutely losing her mind in her mansion.
She’d spent all that effort, thrown around a ridiculous amount of cash, and still couldn’t even stir up a whisper.
The whole thing had been smothered—completely buried!
No matter how she tried to turn the tables, it was useless.
Bruce was apparently actually in jail now. God, what if he ratted her out?
Panic and dread tangled in her chest. And what if Jordan Smith came home and started asking where that huge chunk of money went? What the hell would she say?
Was Camila Davis really off the hook just like that?
Sandra was fuming with frustration and disbelief.
Right then, her phone rang. Raymond Mitchell.
His voice was heavy with defeat. “Ms. Taylor, I saw the news. Honestly, I’m disappointed too with how all this played out. Those people have way too much power. If they want to, they can just sweep the truth under the rug…”
He sighed. “I get why you wanted to do this. I really thought we had a chance to finally show everyone who Eric Morris really is—you know, after what he did… someone died because of him…”
Suddenly, Raymond seemed to realize he’d said too much. He cut himself off, stumbling over his words. “Ah, don’t mind me, Ms. Taylor. I’ve had a few drinks, just got a bit emotional thinking about old times. Forget I said anything.”
He played his part perfectly.
Or maybe Sandra was just too far gone to notice. His words felt like a lifeline and she clung to them, desperate for more.
With barely contained excitement, she pressed him: “Mr. Mitchell, what did you mean just now? What about someone dying? Can you tell me more?”
Raymond kept up the act, feigning regret. “Oh no, I didn’t mean anything. Just drunk talk. Really, Ms. Taylor, I can’t discuss it.”
But his tone was so mournful, so haunted, that Sandra didn’t believe a word of his denial.
She pleaded, “Mr. Mitchell, please—I’m begging you. This is important to me. Tell me, whatever you want in return, I’ll make it happen!”
This was her last shot at taking down Camila Davis.
Raymond could tell he had her. He was practically giddy inside.
Of course, he couldn’t just hand it over on a silver platter, so he leaned into his drunken act, spinning a wild story.
“Back in the day, I got expelled from med school—because I was in love with a girl there. Eric Morris, that bastard, he wanted her too, and tried everything to break us up. He was always sucking up to the faculty, and eventually, they kicked me out because of him.


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