Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge-Chapter 44: The Suspect

At the hospital, in a special ward...

Sitting on the couch, Henry and Margaret watched their daughter with concern etched deep in their features.

"Lina, that housekeeper worked for Damien for more than a decade," Henry began, his voice calm but firm. "If he wasn’t loyal, he wouldn’t have lasted that long."

Margaret added softly, "Yes, Lina. Even I’m starting to doubt Damien’s involvement. You need to maintain distance until we find the real mastermind."

She clasped Aveline’s hand gently. "I know it’s hard, honey. He’s your husband, and you care about him deeply. But for now, give it time. If Damien’s truly innocent, then fine, you two passed the test of life."

Aveline wished she could tell them the truth that she didn’t want time, and didn’t want Damien. She just wanted to get out of the marriage and keep the Laurent family safe. And it killed a part of her every time she had to smile and play the obedient wife in front of Damien. But it wasn’t the time for them to know yet.

"Mom," she said quietly, her voice trembling with guilt, "didn’t you always say a wife must love her husband, even in an arranged marriage?"

She almost startled when Alaric appeared at the door without a sound.

Unaware of his presence, Margaret responded, "I understand, sweetheart. But the situation..."

"It’s not easy, Mom. But I will try." Aveline forced a smile and patted her mother’s hand to console her. She stood just as Giselle entered the room with Alaric.

Henry stepped forward, but Giselle cut him off briskly. "Chairman Laurent, let’s skip the gratitude for now."

Henry froze, then gave a short nod, sensing the urgency. Working with Giselle meant giving in to her demands, or she wouldn’t waste another second on their case.

"I’d like to speak with Ms. Laurent alone. It might ease her more if you two return home. My assistant will stay in touch," Giselle added, glancing briefly at Aveline for support.

Henry hesitated until Aveline said gently, "Dad, you may send Mike Wilson. He’ll keep you updated." The farther her parents stayed from the conspiracy, the safer they would be.

Reluctantly, the Laurents left.

Giselle took a seat, crossing one leg over the other with practiced ease. "Aveline, if I may call you that, I need to know everything. Every detail. Suspicious behavior. Damien’s weaknesses. The housekeeper’s actions. Let’s start with—why did you file this complaint when you didn’t want to prove Damien’s hand in it?"

Aveline glanced at Alaric, who had already taken the armchair like he owned it. Asking him to leave would be pointless—he’d find a way back in. So instead, she asked what had been bothering her.

"Before we begin, I would like to know why we skipped the interrogation when they don’t have proof against me."

Giselle pulled a file from her bag and dropped it on the table. "There’s a pattern in everyone’s statements. Including yours. Damien didn’t have time for you. Yet you never fought him on it. You even said—if he didn’t have time for you, how could he have time for an affair?"

Aveline scanned the highlighted parts of the statements of key persons.

Giselle leaned forward slightly. "We could’ve built a motive using that, linking his affair to a reason to kill you. But now, with Vivienne Sinclair missing, and your little threat to sue her in the parking lot... that can be flipped on you."

Aveline was confused. "How!?"

Giselle’s tone turned cold. "If someone states that Damien’s closeness to Vivienne bothered you, the case will build from there. Like you became jealous and craved attention. You started taking poison. Maybe planned to frame Vivienne or Damien. Either way, it makes you the suspect. Not the victim. Suspect in poisoning. And in a kidnapping—until the truth comes out."

Aveline swallowed. The air in her lungs felt tight. She was playing chess with someone whose move had already countered hers multiple times.

Without another word, she began confessing everything Giselle needed. From the strange details to the ugly truths of the past week and the two months of their marriage.

....

At Ashford Holdings

Since the Sterling villa was seized, Damien had headed straight to the company from the police station. He took a long shower, scrubbing off grime, stress, and sleep. But the darkness clinging to his mind wouldn’t wash away.

Dressed sharp in a fresh suit, he had barely sat down when his secretary burst in. "Director Ashford, the investors for Project Obelisk have withdrawn."

Damien’s jaw tightened. That was his flagship project. The one meant to push him closer to the CEO position.

"I’m trying to reach them," the secretary continued, already panicked.

"Find them," Damien growled, already flipping open his laptop and grabbing his phone to look for new investors.

By four in the evening, the secretary returned, pale-faced. "Director Ashford, several vendor contracts have been frozen. Technical disputes like compliance issues over zoning and soil certifications."

Damien clenched his fists when it hit him. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone was targeting him..

’The Laurents?’ he hissed to himself.

Before he could dig deeper, there was a knock on the door. The receptionist entered with a man in a suit.

The man handed him an envelope. "Mr. Ashford, if you sign the papers now, we can finalize the process today before the marriage bureau closes." His voice was plain.

Damien didn’t even open the envelope. He began tearing it into pieces. "I’m not divorcing her."

The man remained unfazed, quietly watching Damien vent his wrath on the envelope. He spoke only after the last piece hit the floor. "Then I’m told to relay this: Ms. Laurent is ready to take the roughest path if it means protecting your livelihood."

With that, he turned and left.

Damien stood there, staring at the door, fire building behind his eyes. "That woman just knows how to sit on my nerves," he hissed.

The Laurent family should be begging him to handle his housekeeper. And plead with him to take their daughter back.

But Aveline was messing with his plan with her same nauseating kindness he didn’t need. And he wouldn’t let her have her way.

He grabbed his blazer. He had to find her. Talk to her. Stop her. But before he could take another step

"Director Ashford," his secretary said nervously, "the board is gathering in the conference room."

His head snapped toward him.

"They... they’ve called an emergency review of our projects," the secretary stammered.

He didn’t need to hear more. The message was clear. The CEO position was hanging by a thread.

He stormed toward the conference room.

’If this keeps up, they’ll vote me out before I even get the damn title,’ he cursed under his breath.