I Took My Husband’s Mistress To Her Appointment. Then Sent Them Both To Prison Chapter 15
The Sterling family turned on itself.
The moment Rhys showed weakness, the other branches of the family moved in. The old arson case was dragged back into the light. Some claimed Rhys had hidden incriminating ledgers years ago and provoked retaliation from the rival branch.
Others said Harlan Sterling had always known what caused the fire but deliberately buried the truth. Panic rippled through the entire Sterling clan. Two days later, Harlan sent someone to contact me.
He requested a meeting at a private members’ club in Beverly Hills.
I brought my attorney.
Harlan Sterling sat inside with a cup of tea before him. When he saw me, his gaze went first to my back.
I wore a high-collared coat.
He couldn’t see the scars.
But he knew they were there.
“Ms. Rowland,” he said with measured courtesy. “Sit.”
I took the chair opposite him.
My attorney sat beside me.
Harlan glanced at him and smiled.
“You’re very cautious now, Ms. Rowland.”
“After being harmed by members of the Sterling family this many times, caution comes naturally.”
His smile faded slightly.
He came directly to the point.
“Name your price.”
I lifted my eyes. “For what?”
“The civil claims can disappear.”
“You can also tell the district attorney you don’t oppose leniency. At the very least, stop expanding the scandal.”
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
“The Sterling family can give you money, real estate, equity.”
“Everything has a price. Name yours.”
I looked at him.
“What did the Sterling family give me after I was burned?”
Harlan said nothing.
I continued.
“I saved Rhys.”
“I will carry the scars on my back for the rest of my life.”
“You made him the primary beneficiary of the family trust and prepared him to become the next head of the family.”
“You gave him power, money, and the protection of the Sterling name.”
“What did I receive?”
“‘She chose to save him.'”
Harlan’s expression darkened.
“Ms. Rowland, there is no reason to dig up old grievances.”
I laughed.
“The Sterling family has an interesting way of speaking.”
“When a victim mentions the past, she’s digging up old grievances.”
“When the people who hurt her use money to bury it, they’re protecting the greater good.”
His gaze chilled.
“Young people shouldn’t burn every bridge.”
I pointed to the digital recorder that had sat in the center of the table since the beginning of the meeting. Before we entered, my attorney had clearly stated that the conversation would be recorded. Harlan had personally agreed.
“Mr. Sterling.”
“That statement was recorded in full.”
For the first time, his expression changed.
I stood.
“Why does every Sterling man insist on handing me evidence in his own voice?”
My attorney rose too.
As we reached the door, Harlan’s voice came from behind us.
“Genevieve.”
“Do you honestly believe one woman can shake the Sterling family?”
I stopped without turning around.
“I can’t shake the Sterling family.”
“But I can make the Sterling family abandon Rhys with its own hands.”
Silence followed.
Outside the club, my attorney said quietly, “Harlan Sterling probably won’t step in to protect Rhys again.”
I looked ahead.
“He never meant to protect Rhys.”
“He only meant to protect the Sterling family.”
Across town, Rhys returned to the Bel Air estate. The wedding portraits still covered the living room walls.
Some were black-tie portraits. Others were staged like a seaside ceremony.
He and Livia embraced, kissed, and held hands. He had personally ordered every frame hung. At the time, Livia had wrapped her arms around his waist and laughed.
“Rhys, isn’t this a little excessive?”
He had lowered his head and kissed her.
“I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
Now the pictures made him sick. They weren’t proof of love anymore. They were exhibits waiting for a courtroom.
He grabbed the ashtray and hurled it. Glass burst across the room as frames crashed to the floor.
Livia had just returned from giving her statement at the police station. She walked in and screamed.
“Rhys! Are you insane?”
“Why are you destroying them?”
“They prove you love me!”
Rhys turned toward her, his eyes empty.
“Proof?”
“Now every one of them is evidence against me.”
Her face whitened.
“What do you mean?”
He advanced slowly.
“You said you still had something.”
“Hand it over.”
“Let’s see which one of us goes down first—and which one ends up in prison.”
Livia stepped back.
“Are you threatening me?”
Rhys sneered.
“You threatened me first.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Rhys, you’re cruel.”
He showed no reaction.
“So are you.”
That night, Livia didn’t scream or cry again. She closed her bedroom door and pulled a flash drive from a hidden lining in her suitcase. Her finger hovered over her phone for a long time.
Finally, she sent me a message.
“I have complete evidence that Rhys killed your child.”
“I want to meet.”