Chapter 201

Bianca didn't realize something was wrong until she was already in the car — and by then it was too late. The guard was built like a tank, so she had no choice but to play along and look for a chance to escape.

But no opportunity came, not even by the time they arrived.

It was the middle of the night, but she recognized the place. She'd been here many times before.

This was one of Marlowe's properties — a villa halfway up a hill on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by trees on all sides. Quiet. Private. You couldn't see the house from the road at all.

Marlowe came here occasionally, saying the city was too noisy and she needed some peace and quiet.

Bianca had been here too — sometimes to drop things off, sometimes just to sit and have coffee with Marlowe.

Back then, she'd thought everything about this place was perfect. The location, the surroundings, the interior design — even the scent from the diffusers was lovely.

She'd never had a bad feeling about it before. But now, all she felt was fear.

She had no time to resist. Someone shoved her inside, and the door slammed shut behind her.

Bianca stood in the entryway, still frozen in the position she'd been pushed into, both hands braced against the edge of the shoe cabinet, her knuckles white.

She heard footsteps outside, growing fainter. Then a car engine starting. Then even that faded away, leaving behind a silence so thick it was suffocating.

Her mind was a mess. Her heart was pounding.

She knew who had locked her up here. It was Marlowe.

And that was exactly why she felt ice-cold all over.

She knew Marlowe's methods too well.

Locking her away in a place this remote — it couldn't be as simple as house arrest.

Was Marlowe planning to make her disappear for good?

Maybe it was the silence, but Bianca found herself thinking about a news story she'd read years ago. A wealthy family had a scandal, and they'd locked the person who knew too much in an overseas villa. For three full years.

Three years with no one to talk to. No visitors. Just a mute housekeeper who came every day to bring food.

When the person finally came out, they could no longer speak. They just stood there, smiling at the walls.

Bianca shuddered and pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

She couldn't just sit here and wait to die.

She shot up from the couch and started pacing the living room, looking for any way out.

She went to the front door and yanked the handle hard. It didn't budge. She crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain, only to find a row of black security bars on the other side — iron rods as thick as fingers, spaced so close together that not even a cat could squeeze through.

Bianca thought for a moment, then ran to the kitchen, hoping to find a knife or some kind of tool. But every drawer was empty. She searched every corner of every room and found nothing — no way to contact the outside world. Nothing at all.

The light outside faded little by little. Dusk seeped in through the gaps in the curtains, turning the furniture in the living room into shapeless shades of grey.

Bianca curled up in the corner of the couch, a thin blanket pulled over her, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the plaster molding on the ceiling.

Then she heard something.

A soft sound. Like something being slid under the door.

She spun her head toward the entryway.

At the bottom of the door, an envelope was being slowly pushed through — inch by inch, by a hand she couldn't see.

A kraft paper envelope. Not large, but stuffed full, like something solid was inside.

Bianca leapt off the couch and rushed to the door in a few quick strides. She bent down and picked it up.

The envelope wasn't sealed. She reached in with two fingers and pulled out what was inside.

An old phone. And a stack of papers.

She looked through them, her surprise growing with every page. There wasn't just the ultrasound with the altered date from when she'd been pregnant — there were also the wire transfer records for the twenty million she'd moved out of Henry's accounts, and even her full chat history with Marlowe. All of it, right there.

Who had sent this to her?

She turned the envelope inside out, checking every inch of it. No clues. Nothing.

She thought hard, but came up empty.

Henry would never send her something like this. He wouldn't even look at her right now.

And Marlowe — there was no way. She'd locked Bianca up here specifically to keep her quiet. Why would she hand over evidence?

Her mind was spinning, but one thought kept getting clearer and clearer: if she was going down, she wasn't going down alone.

Did they really think locking her up here meant they could live happily ever after?

No. Absolutely not.

She wasn't going to let them get away with this.

Her hands were shaking as she pressed the power button. The phone had no signal and no apps — just one pre-saved number in the contacts. That was it.

Someone had clearly prepared this phone for her on purpose. One call, one number, nothing else.

Bianca didn't hesitate for a second. She hit dial.

At the same time, the task Gloria had given Leopold was finally done — and it was starting to spread online.

It began as a single, easy-to-miss post in the corner of a gossip forum. The title was dramatic but not flashy: [Rich family mother-in-law and mistress team up to frame the wife — chat logs exposed]

Different accounts posted it across different platforms at the same time, the timing so precise it felt like someone was pulling strings from behind the scenes.

It was two in the morning — dead hours for traffic — but within half an hour, the posts were trending.

Shares, comments, reposts. The story spread like a virus across every platform.

By morning, it had reached the board of directors.

Gloria's assistant knocked and came in while she was sitting behind her desk, a financial report spread out in front of her.

"Ms. Seymour."

The assistant's voice was slightly breathless — she'd clearly rushed over. There was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Gloria looked up from the report, her eyes settling on the assistant's face. A faint flicker passed through her gaze.

"The board just called. They're asking you to come over right away."

Gloria didn't waste a second. She stood up, straightened her collar, and walked toward the conference room.

She could hear the noise before she even reached the door.

The conference room was soundproofed, but the commotion inside still leaked through the gap — a low, buzzing roar.

She pushed the door open, and the noise hit her all at once.

"Ms. Seymour, good, you're here. Have you seen what's all over the internet? What is going on? Since last night, it's been nothing but Tudor Group scandals everywhere you look. The whole city is laughing at us!"

"Where is Mr. Tudor? Where is he right now? Something this serious, and the chairman won't even show his face? He's not picking up calls, not responding to messages — how long does he plan to hide?"

"Forty million dollars of company funds — over forty million! That's not a small number. Our money was used to keep his mistress? Is that what happened?"

"And Marlowe! What she did — shameless doesn't even cover it. Carrying another man's child. She's dragged the entire Tudor family name through the mud!"

"Ms. Seymour, you owe us an explanation!"