CHAPTER 6 — THE MISTRESS WHO LOST EVERYTHING
CHAPTER 6 — THE MISTRESS WHO LOST EVERYTHING
Vanessa Hale had spent four years planning a future that did not exist.
She had chosen the penthouse.
She had chosen the wedding venue.
She had even chosen the color of the curtains.
Damian had promised her everything.
The mansion.
The penthouse.
The private jet.
The jewelry.
The resort in Monaco.
The villa in Tuscany.
And, most importantly—
the name.
Mrs. Damian Cross.
She had believed every word.
Until 8:14 a.m.
That was when her bank card stopped working.
At first, she assumed it was a technical error.
She tried again.
TRANSACTION DECLINED.
She frowned.
The waiter stood beside her.
“Would you like to try another card, ma'am?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Of course.”
She pulled out her second card.
DECLINED.
Her smile disappeared.
“Try again.”
The waiter did.
Same result.
A small group of people at the neighboring table glanced over.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Call the manager.”
The waiter nodded.
But before the manager arrived, her phone vibrated.
A banking notification appeared.
ACCOUNT ACCESS SUSPENDED.
She stared at the screen.
Then another notification appeared.
INVESTMENT ACCOUNT RESTRICTED.
Then another.
PROPERTY BENEFICIARY STATUS UNDER REVIEW.
Vanessa's breathing changed.
She immediately called Damian.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
She tried his office.
The receptionist answered.
“Cross Global Holdings.”
“This is Vanessa Hale. I need Damian.”
There was a pause.
“Mr. Cross is unavailable.”
“Put me through.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then connect me.”
The receptionist's voice remained polite.
“You are not listed as an authorized party.”
Vanessa froze.
“What?”
“I'm sorry, Ms. Hale.”
The call ended.
Vanessa stared at her phone.
For the first time, a terrifying thought entered her mind.
Maybe Damian wasn't ignoring her.
Maybe Damian couldn't answer.
She drove directly to the Cross mansion.
Or what she believed was the Cross mansion.
The gates opened.
But the security guard stopped her car.
“Ms. Hale.”
“Open the gate.”
“I can't.”
Vanessa frowned.
“Why?”
“Your access has been revoked.”
She laughed.
“That's ridiculous.”
The guard remained expressionless.
“I have permission from Mr. Cross.”
“Mr. Cross no longer has authority to authorize access.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What did you say?”
“I'm sorry.”
“You're telling me Damian can't authorize me?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since yesterday.”
Vanessa stared at the mansion beyond the gates.
The place she had already imagined decorating.
The place she had walked through hundreds of times.
The place she believed would soon be hers.
Now she couldn't even enter.
“Call Evelyn.”
The guard shook his head.
“Mrs. Cross has also been removed from the property authority list.”
Vanessa's heart sank.
“Who did this?”
The guard looked uncomfortable.
“Ms. Montrose.”
The name struck her like ice water.
Isabella.
Vanessa stepped out of the car.
“Let me speak to her.”
“I don't have her number.”
“I do.”
She pulled out her phone.
Her finger hovered over Isabella's contact.
Then stopped.
Vanessa had never called Isabella before.
Why would she?
For four years, she had considered her an obstacle.
A woman who was supposed to disappear.
A wife Damian kept promising to leave.
A woman Vanessa had privately mocked as weak.
Now that same woman controlled the gates.
And Vanessa was standing outside them.
At 9:03 a.m., Vanessa finally reached Damian.
He answered on the fourth call.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“My accounts are frozen.”
Silence.
“You knew this would happen?”
“No.”
“Then fix it.”
“I can't.”
Vanessa laughed.
“That's not funny.”
“I said I can't.”
“You're Damian Cross.”
“Not anymore.”
She stopped breathing.
“What does that mean?”
He didn't answer.
“Damian.”
“I've lost executive authority.”
“What?”
“I don't control the company.”
Vanessa stared through the windshield.
“And the mansion?”
“Not mine.”
“The penthouse?”
“Not mine.”
“The yacht?”
“Not mine.”
“The private jet?”
“Not mine.”
She swallowed.
“You told me those things were yours.”
“I know.”
“You promised them to me.”
“I know.”
“You said we would have everything.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“Then what do you have?”
A long silence.
“Nothing.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
The answer was almost too simple.
Nothing.
The man she had betrayed Isabella for had nothing.
She had thrown away her reputation.
Her relationship with her family.
Her friendships.
Her career.
For a fortune that had never belonged to him.
“Who owns it?”
Damian's voice became quiet.
“Isabella.”
Vanessa opened her eyes.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Everything you promised me?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa laughed.
But there were tears in her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I wasn't your future.”
She whispered:
“I was your mistake.”
Damian didn't answer.
At 10:16 a.m., Vanessa received a legal notice.
She opened it inside her apartment.
The first paragraph was formal.
The second was devastating.
She had been using a luxury residence registered under a Montrose-controlled trust.
The jewelry Damian had given her?
Property of a family holding entity.
The vehicle?
Leased through a corporate subsidiary.
The designer wardrobe?
Purchased through a corporate expense account.
The private club membership?
Corporate.
The investment account Damian had created for her?
Corporate.
Even the apartment she had believed Damian purchased specifically for her—
belonged to the trust.
Vanessa slowly lowered the pages.
She looked around the apartment.
The marble floor.
The enormous windows.
The designer furniture.
The art.
The flowers.
The champagne.
All of it suddenly looked borrowed.
She stood.
Walked to the closet.
Opened it.
Hundreds of dresses.
Shoes.
Handbags.
Jewelry.
She began pulling them from the shelves.
One by one.
Every item had been given to her by Damian.
And now she wondered how many of them had actually been gifts.
Her hands began shaking.
She grabbed a diamond bracelet.
There was a small engraving inside.
MGH.
Montrose Global Holdings.
She stared at it.
Then threw it onto the bed.
“No.”
She opened another jewelry box.
Same initials.
Another.
Same.
Another.
Montrose.
Montrose.
Montrose.
The name was everywhere.
She had been wearing Isabella's family's wealth for years without realizing it.
At noon, Vanessa went to a private law firm.
She demanded to see the best attorney available.
The senior partner listened silently.
Then reviewed the documents.
Finally, he looked at her.
“Ms. Hale.”
“What?”
“You don't own any of these assets.”
“I know that now.”
“You also have no contractual entitlement to them.”
“What about Damian's promise?”
The attorney almost smiled.
“A verbal promise does not transfer beneficial ownership.”
“He told me I would become Mrs. Cross.”
“Were you legally married?”
“No.”
“Then you have no spousal rights.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“What if he divorces Isabella?”
“He may not have anything left to transfer.”
“What do you mean?”
The attorney closed the file.
“Mr. Cross's authority was managerial.”
“He did not own the underlying assets.”
Vanessa felt sick.
“So even if he had divorced Isabella…”
“He could not have given you the empire.”
She looked down.
All those nights.
All those lies.
All those promises.
For nothing.
She left the law firm in silence.
Outside, photographers were waiting.
Someone had leaked the story.
CROSS EMPIRE SEIZED BY MONTROSE HEIRESS
CEO REMOVED
MYSTERY WOMAN REVEALED AS CONTROLLING OWNER
Then another headline appeared.
VANESSA HALE: THE MISTRESS AT THE CENTER OF THE SCANDAL
Vanessa stopped walking.
Cameras flashed.
Questions exploded.
“Ms. Hale!”
“Did you know Damian Cross was not the owner?”
“Did you have an affair with him?”
“Were you promised the Cross fortune?”
“Did you help remove Isabella Montrose?”
Vanessa covered her face.
She ran.
That evening, she returned to the apartment.
There was an envelope waiting beneath the door.
No stamp.
No name.
Just:
VANESSA HALE.
She opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Isabella and Damian on their wedding day.
Vanessa stared at it.
On the back was a handwritten message.
You were never the woman who would replace her.
Beneath it:
You were the woman they expected to destroy her.
Vanessa's breathing stopped.
She read the second line.
Ask Damian what he promised before he met you.
She dropped the photograph.
Something was wrong.
She had always assumed she was the seductress.
The outsider.
The woman Damian chose because he loved her.
But what if she had been chosen too?
What if someone had wanted her close to Damian?
What if the affair itself had been part of a larger plan?
She picked up the phone.
Called Damian.
This time, he answered immediately.
“Vanessa?”
“Did you choose me?”
Silence.
“What?”
“Did you choose me because you loved me?”
Damian didn't respond.
She felt her stomach tighten.
“Damian.”
Finally, he said:
“Who sent you that photograph?”
She froze.
“You know about it.”
“Vanessa, listen to me.”
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I don't know.”
She screamed:
“DID YOU KNOW ME BEFORE I MET YOU?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Vanessa sat down.
“You did.”
Damian exhaled.
“I knew your family.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your father worked with Cross Group.”
She frowned.
“My father was an accountant.”
“Yes.”
“For your company?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because it wasn't relevant.”
“Then why did you approach me?”
Damian said nothing.
Vanessa's voice became a whisper.
“You approached me.”
He didn't deny it.
“Why?”
“I was looking for information.”
Her heart sank.
“About Isabella?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“So I was never your mistress.”
Damian whispered:
“You were.”
“But I was also a tool.”
He didn't answer.
She laughed bitterly.
“That's all I ever was.”
At Montrose Global, I received a call.
The caller ID showed an unknown number.
I answered.
“Isabella.”
I recognized the voice.
Vanessa.
“What do you want?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“I don't have anything to discuss with you.”
“I know.”
She took a breath.
“Damian lied to me.”
I said nothing.
“He told me the company was his.”
“I know.”
“He promised me your house.”
“I know.”
“He promised me the penthouse.”
“I know.”
“He promised me the empire.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“He never owned any of it.”
“No.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
She breathed shakily.
“Then why are you answering?”
“Because I think you know something.”
“I do.”
I waited.
Vanessa whispered:
“Damian didn't choose me because he loved me.”
My expression changed.
“Why?”
“I don't know yet.”
“What do you know?”
“I know someone wanted him to get close to you.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear I'm not.”
“Then tell me everything.”
“I will.”
She paused.
“But I need protection.”
I leaned back.
“From Damian?”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“From the person who sent me.”
I frowned.
“Who sent you?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know someone sent you?”
“Because they just contacted me.”
My heart stopped.
“What did they say?”
Vanessa whispered:
“They said the Cross family was never the real target.”
“Then who was?”
There was a long silence.
Then she said:
“You.”
The call ended.
That night, Vanessa packed a single suitcase.
Not because she was leaving for another luxury hotel.
Because she had nowhere else to go.
Every account was frozen.
Every promised asset was gone.
Every relationship she had sacrificed for Damian had collapsed.
She stood in front of the mirror.
For the first time in years, there was no designer jewelry around her neck.
No expensive watch.
No borrowed diamonds.
No fantasy.
Just Vanessa.
Alone.
She picked up the envelope again.
Inside the photograph, there was one final line she hadn't noticed.
She held it beneath the light.
Tiny handwriting appeared near the bottom.
THE WOMAN YOU HATED IS THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN SAVE YOU.
Vanessa stared at it.
Then whispered:
“Isabella.”
At 2:11 a.m., someone knocked on her door.
Three slow knocks.
Vanessa froze.
She didn't move.
Another three knocks.
Then a voice came from the hallway.
“Ms. Hale?”
She recognized it.
Damian's former security chief.
Vanessa stepped toward the door.
“What do you want?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Your father.”
Her face went pale.
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then what about him?”
The man lowered his voice.
“He left something behind.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Vanessa opened the door slightly.
The man handed her a small black book.
She opened it.
The first page contained a list of names.
Cross.
Montrose.
Hale.
Then another name.
ISABELLA.
Next to it was a date.
Four years earlier.
The day before Isabella married Damian.
Vanessa turned the page.
A payment had been recorded.
Not to Damian.
Not to Vanessa.
To someone else.
She stared at the amount.
Then at the recipient.
Her hands began shaking.
Because the recipient was someone she knew.
Someone who had attended Isabella and Damian's wedding.
Someone who had spent four years pretending to support Isabella.
Someone who had been inside the Cross mansion every single day.
Vanessa looked up.
“Who gave you this?”
The security chief stepped backward.
“No one.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should read the last page.”
Vanessa turned it.
There was only one sentence.
THE AFFAIR WAS NEVER THE PLAN.
Beneath it:
THE MARRIAGE WAS.
Vanessa stopped breathing.
Because suddenly she understood.
She had believed Isabella was the wife.
She had believed herself to be the woman who stole the husband.
But perhaps neither woman had understood the real game.
Perhaps Damian's marriage had been arranged for one reason.
And the affair had been created for another.
And somewhere behind both—
someone had been moving pieces across the board.
Vanessa looked at Isabella's name again.
For the first time, she didn't see an enemy.
She saw the only person who might be able to uncover the truth.
She picked up her phone.
Her finger hovered over Isabella's number.
Then she pressed call.
Across the city, my phone began ringing.
I looked at the screen.
VANESSA HALE.
I answered.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Vanessa whispered:
“Isabella…”
“Yes?”
“I think I know why Damian married you.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“Because someone wanted access to the Montrose Trust.”
I sat upright.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Her voice trembled.
“I know your grandfather wasn't the only person who signed the original agreement.”
I stared into the darkness.
“Who else signed it?”
Vanessa swallowed.
Then whispered a name I had never expected to hear.
“My father.”
The line went silent.
And in that moment, I understood something terrifying.
The Cross family hadn't been the only family involved.
The Hale family had been part of the arrangement too.
And Vanessa—
the woman I thought had destroyed my marriage—
May you like
might have been another victim of a plan that began long before either of us understood the rules.
TO BE CONTINUED...
