I Took My Husband’s Mistress To Her Appointment. Then Sent Them Both To Prison Chapter 14
Rhys began searching for me.
First, he called.
I didn’t answer.
Then he sent message after message. He got nothing back.
He ordered his assistant to track my movements.
The answer came quickly.
“Mr. Sterling, Ms. Rowland has moved out of her previous residence.”
Rhys frowned. “Where did she go?”
The assistant lowered his head. “We haven’t been able to determine that.”
Rhys gave a cold laugh. “You can’t determine it?”
The assistant forced himself to continue.
“Ms. Rowland changed her phone number, and her new address doesn’t appear in any of the databases we normally use.”
“She seems to have planned this in advance.”
Rhys’s expression darkened.
He drove to the home we had once shared.
The locks had been changed.
He stood outside and rang the bell for a long time.
No one answered.
A neighbor heard the noise and opened her door.
“Are you looking for Ms. Rowland?”
Rhys turned. “Where did she go?”
The neighbor frowned at him.
“She moved.”
“She said she wouldn’t be coming back.”
His expression stiffened. “When did she say that?”
“A couple of days ago.”
The neighbor looked him up and down, recognition hardening into disgust.
“You’re her husband, aren’t you?”
Rhys didn’t answer.
She gave a disgusted snort and said before closing the door, “She was such a good woman. How could you treat her that way?”
The door slammed shut.
Rhys stood alone in the hallway.
He stared at the door and the new lock as an empty space opened in his chest. He had lived in that house for five years, yet he had never truly seen it.
She had chosen the couch, every light fixture, every small detail that made the place feel like home. There was always food in the kitchen and a lamp burning in the foyer.
He had treated it all like background noise. Now the lock had changed, and he didn’t even have the right to step inside. He went to the patient-advocacy platform where I had worked.
The receptionist became visibly guarded the moment she saw him.
“Who are you here to see?”
“Genevieve.”
“Genevieve no longer works here.”
Rhys’s frown deepened. “Tell her to come out and see me.”
“She isn’t here,” the receptionist replied sharply.
He held down his anger.
“I’m her husband.”
The woman looked at him.
“Ms. Rowland left instructions.”
“She will no longer accept any assignment connected to the Sterling family.”
“And she will not meet with Mr. Sterling.”
His face went completely cold.
“Do you know who you’re speaking to?”
The receptionist didn’t retreat.
“Mr. Sterling, if you continue to harass our staff, we’ll call the police.”
Rhys looked as if she had made a joke. Ten minutes later, the police actually arrived. Standing in the lobby beneath a dozen accusing stares, Rhys learned what public humiliation felt like.
The officer was courteous, but firm.
“Mr. Sterling, you need to stop disrupting the business.”
He left with a dark expression.
Rain had begun to fall.
He sat in his car at the curb and didn’t leave.
There was still no reply from me. That evening, he returned to the old house.
Rain soaked through his suit.
He stood by the door for a while.
Then he crouched.
Finally, he sat on the floor beside it. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. Maybe he expected me to open the door.
Maybe he expected me to soften, as I always had, open the door, and hand him a towel.
At last, his phone vibrated.
Rhys snatched it up.
I had sent him a document.
He opened it.
A revised settlement proposal.
First: a full accounting of all marital property. Second: the return of concealed assets and payment of damages. Third: a public acknowledgment of his infidelity, the forged documents, and the damage he had done to my reputation.
Fourth: no direct or indirect contact, harassment, or threats. Fifth: full cooperation with every investigation—and no use of Sterling family influence to interfere.
Rhys read each term. His face grew paler.
He called my number.
This time, someone answered.
It wasn’t me.
It was my attorney.
“Mr. Sterling.”
Rhys spoke through clenched teeth. “Put Genevieve on the phone.”
“Ms. Rowland will not engage in private communication.”
His voice dropped.
“Tell her not to go too far.”
“Mr. Sterling, the proposed divorce settlement has been sent to you.”
“If you reject it, we will proceed with litigation.”
Rhys laughed in fury.
“Does she have to be this ruthless?”
Then, faint and distant on the other end of the call, my voice finally came through.
“You didn’t make a mistake.”
“You committed crimes.”
Rhys went rigid.
“Genevieve…”
The call ended.
He stayed on the floor outside the locked door, the dead phone still pressed to his ear as the rain hammered down.
What he didn’t know was that my attorney had already supplemented the court record with the platform’s police report, his repeated voice messages, and security footage showing him waiting outside the former residence that night. At the formal hearing two days later, the judge issued a restraining order.
Rhys was prohibited from directly or indirectly contacting me or approaching my home or workplace. From that point forward, all communication had to go through counsel.
He suddenly called Harlan Sterling.
When the call connected, his voice was hoarse.
“Grandfather, help me.”
A long silence followed.
Harlan’s reply held no warmth.
“Rhys, you’ve been removed as successor trustee of the family trust. Your voting rights have also been frozen.”
Rhys’s pupils contracted.
The call ended.
For the first time, real panic broke through his arrogance.