Page 213 of My Ruthless Husband

Damian pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. A minute later, there’s a sharp knock on the door. I freeze, unable to contain my shock as Hal steps inside. “Mrs. Montgomery,” he says with a small nod in my direction, before putting a black briefcase onto the coffee table. Without another word, he turns and leaves, the door closing softly behind him.

Damian opens the briefcase and pulls out two files. “According to the authorities, my father’s body was found in the woods. The location was seven miles away from the IDG building. But…”

He slides the first file across the table. “The day my father went to that meeting, two separate 911 calls were placed from the IDG building. The file holds those call records, along with statements from employees who worked on the 30th floor. They heard shouting, even gunshots. Shortly after those calls were made, every single one of those employees was transferred to your father’s overseas branches. Their stories changed, and everything was swept under the rug.”

“The police, senators, and countless influential figures were all involved in covering up my father’s murder.” He hands me another file. “The names of everyone involved are in here.”

I can feel the blood drain from my face. I stare at the file, my hands trembling. My body feels like it’s going to give out at any moment. The world I knew is crumbling to dust.

“I’ve dealt with almost everyone on that list.” Damian reveals with grim satisfaction.

“But these don’t prove that my father and his partners…” I can’t finish the sentence. My voice cracks.

“Killed my father?” A bitter smile twists his lips. “That hurt more than I thought. I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I knew you’d take their side, but hearing it from you, seeing that disbelief in your eyes... it hurt. More than I thought it would.”

“No!” I swipe at my tears and stumble to my unsteady feet. “I didn’t say I don’t believe you, Damian. I’m just… trying to make sense of all this!” My breath comes in quick, jagged gasps. “My mind is still processing the fact that your… your father was killed, and your mother…” My voice cracks, and a sob tears through me. “I… I can almost accept the thought of my dad stealing, even if it seems impossible, but murder… Damian…”

He pulls out another file and a flash drive, his expression unreadable. “These are reports and recordings from therapy sessions with your father’s partners, William Thompson and Richard McAllister. They confessed to killing my father.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “They never went into specifics, but they did mention the involvement of your father.”

I turn quickly, stumbling toward the bathroom, the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I bend over the pot, retching violently. The contents of my stomach come rushing up, my body shaking uncontrollably as the truth of his words finally sinks in.

I’m shaking, my body wracked with tremors as I clutch the edge of the pot. The harsh reality of everything, the betrayal, the loss—settles deep in my bones.

I’m about to collapse on the floor when suddenly strong arms wrap around waist, lifting me with ease.

Damian carries me back to the living room. His eyes never leave me, watching me with a mixture of guilt and concern, as if he wishes he could take all this pain away from me. Even though I should be the one feeling that way, comforting him. Not the other way around.

When we reach the sofa, he sits down, pulling me into his lap like a fragile doll. His hand strokes the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair in soothing motions. But it doesn’t stop the tears.

I cry. Hard. The floodgates have opened now. The pain in my chest twists and tears through me, and I let it all out—every broken sob, every shard of devastation.

Damian doesn’t speak. He just holds me. His face is unreadable, but his body tenses every time I break down again, his grip tightening on me, as though he’s trying to soak my pain.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, voice rough, though it’s unclear whether he’s apologizing for the truth he’s laid bare or for the pain that’s now consuming us both. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

But I needed to know. I had to face it.

“Is there more?”

His jaw hardens. That means yes.

“Tell me. Tell me everything,” I say hoarsely, sliding off his lap.

Without a word, Damian stands and moves toward the kitchen. A minute later, he returns with a glass of water. He hands it to me, his gaze never leaving mine as I sip, making sure I’m okay before speaking again.

“This file,” He produces another file, this one thick and ominous, “contains every wrongdoing your father and his partners committed, both through IDG and their other ventures.Insider trading, money laundering, tax evasion, intellectual property theft—all of it. I used these to dismantle their empire, destroy William Thompson and Richard McAllister’s lives, and bring their families to their knees.”

“Why their families?”

His eyes lock onto mine. “I have a rule,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Only one. Don’t harm the innocents, and don’t forgive the culpable. If their families had been innocent, I would’ve left them alone. They might not have had a hand in my family’s destruction, but they did other things, unthinkable things—and they walked away without facing any consequences. So I made sure they didn’t get away unpunished.”

“Like Melissa?” I remembered how he admitted of conspiring her accident.

“No. I just uncovered dirt on each one of them and used it, legally, to drain their finances until they were bankrupt. I could’ve gone to the authorities, but that wouldn’t have been enough. They needed to feel it. They needed to understand what it’s like to be on the other side, to know how it feels when everything you’ve built comes crashing down. Melissa was the only exception.”

“Why?”

“Because she tried to hurt what’s mine. My wife.” The words hit me with the force of a storm, leaving me breathless.

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