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MARRYING HIM WAS A MISTAKE  Novel Cover

MARRYING HIM WAS A MISTAKE

Sandra Morrison made the ultimate sacrifice for love-she gave her husband everything. The $240 million real estate empire her father spent his life building. Her position as CEO. Her identity. Her future. She signed it all over to Jimmy Banks on his birthday, believing they were partners, believing in forever. Seven years later, forever has an expiration date. Sandra has become a ghost in her own life. The company that bore her family's name is now Banks Enterprises, and her name has been systematically erased from every document, every decision, every achievement. She's just Mrs. James Banks III-the perfect accessory to her husband's success story, the woman who stays quiet at dinner parties while he takes credit for building an empire on her father's foundation. When she finally discovers the affair-lipstick on collars, hotel receipts, a blonde woman who looks at her husband the way Sandra used to-she confronts him. And Jimmy doesn't even pretend anymore. "I don't love you. I never really did. You were convenient. Your company was convenient. But you? You were always just a means to an end." The truth shatters her: their entire marriage was a transaction. He saw an opportunity-a young, naive heiress who'd just lost her father-and he took it. He married her, convinced her to sign over her inheritance, then spent years pushing her out until she was nothing but a name on a marriage certificate. But here's what Jimmy doesn't know: the woman he married-the fierce, brilliant Sandra Morrison who could close million-dollar deals before lunch-she's still in there. Buried under years of gaslighting and self-doubt, but not gone. Sandra decides she's taking it all back. Her company. Her father's legacy. Her life. Every single thing Jimmy stole from her while calling it love. This is the story of a woman who gave up everything and her fight to reclaim it. A story about manipulation masked as marriage, ambition disguised as affection, and what happens when someone who made themselves small finally remembers how powerful they really are. Sandra Morrison disappeared for seven years. Now she's coming back. And Jimmy Banks is about to learn that the biggest mistake of his life wasn't stealing from her-it was underestimating her.
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Chapter 4

Isabelle's office wasn't without decor but not ones that screamed for attention, it was mostly bland. A Portable glass desk, three office chairs, a hibiscus flower in a white vase, No pictures or personal touches. It was a kind of space designed for people who didn't stay long.

She gestured to a chair. "Please."

I sat, keeping my purse on my lap, My phone was recording-not that I'd disclose it or make it obvious.

Isabelle settled behind her desk, fingers flickering a pen. "I assume you've spoken with Oliver Chen."

"Among others."

"Then you know what your husband has done."

"I know what you helped him do," I retorted. "Money laundering, Fraud. You weren't just documenting his crimes, Ms. Laurent. You were enabling them."

A small smile. "Guilty as charged."

Her honesty caught me off guard.

"So you admit it's true then?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She leaned forward. "I'm a corporate fixer, Mrs. Banks. My job is to make problems disappear. Your husband had problems and I solved them. That's not illegal, it's business."

"Fraud is illegal."

"Only if you get caught." She tilted her head. "But you're not here to arrest me. The FBI doesn't send the wife. So what do you really want?"

Good question.

I'd come here for answers, proof, for something that would help me make sense of the turmoil that had become of my life.

But sitting across from this woman, this beautiful cold efficient instrument of my husband's betrayal, I realized what I really wanted.

"I want to know why."Isabelle's smile faded.

"Why would you help him to destroy me?" My voice shook. "You must have known what he was doing. You must have known that company was mine and that he stole it. That every dollar he made was built on my family's legacy. So why help him?"

She was quiet for a long moment.

"Because he paid me," she said finally. "And because I don't make moral judgments about my clients. That's not my job."

"I see, very Convenient."

"Practical." Isabelle stood and walked to the window. "You want me to feel guilty. To say I'm sorry I helped destroy your life. But I'm not. Because you destroyed your own life, Mrs. Banks. The moment you signed those papers. The moment you chose love over logic."

The words landed like cold splash.

"You don't know anything about my marriage."

"I know everything about your marriage." She turned to face me. "I've read your emails. Listened to your phone calls. Watched you slowly disappear while your husband built an empire on your grave. And you know what the saddest part is?"

I didn't answer.

"You let him." Isabelle's voice was soft. Almost pitying. "You're not a victim, Sandra. You're a volunteer."

My hands clenched in my lap. "I came here for information. Not a lecture."

"Then let me be clear about something." She returned to her desk, crossing her arms. "What your husband did, the restructuring, the offshore accounts, the creative accounting-that's business. Aggressive? Yes. Illegal? That depends on who's looking and what they want to find. But it's business, Mrs. Banks. Nothing personal."

"Nothing personal?" My voice rose. "He stole my company!"

"He took what you gave him and made it profitable. There's a difference." Isabelle's expression was ice. "I don't owe you explanations or apologies. I did a job. I did it well. That's all."

"So what I'm just going to watch you help him erase me from my own company?"

She looked at me with such cold stares I felt the jitters

"I won't betray a client without reason. If you want information from me, you'll need to give me a reason to talk. A good one."

Before I could respond, her phone buzzed on the desk.

She glanced at it. Her expression changed just slightly, but I could tell.

Concern, Maybe fear.

"You need to leave," she said abruptly.

"Now, Mrs. Banks." She stood, gesturing toward the door. "We'll talk again if you need to. But right now, you need to go."

"I'm not done talking" I hesitated

Her phone buzzed again. She picked it up, read the screen, and her jaw tightened.

"Your husband is on his way here. Right now. If he finds you here, it will complicate things neither of us can afford."

My blood ran cold.

"Infact, he's already here and you can't be here when he comes into the building so you need to leave" She showed me the screen.

Coming up. Need to discuss the Chen situation. 5 minutes.

"Go," Isabelle said firmly. "Out the side exit. Down the hall, take the stairs, not the elevator. He'll be coming up the main elevator."

She practically pushed me toward the door.

"Wait when can we talk again?"

"I'll contact you if I need to." She opened the door. "Now go."

I hurried down the hall, heart hammering. Behind me, I heard the elevator chime.

I pushed through the stairwell door and took the stairs down two at a time.

I burst out of the side exit into an alley, breathing hard.

James was parked out front. I circled around, keeping my head down, scanning for Jimmy's car.

The Riveran wasn't there.

Maybe he'd parked in the underground garage. Maybe he'd taken a car service.

I couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

"Mrs. Banks?" James opened the door, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know." I slid into the backseat. "Take me home."

The house was alive when I got back.

Jaden's backpack by the door. His shoes kicked off in the entryway. The sound of cartoons from the living room.

"Jaden?" I called out.

"Mummy!" He appeared from the dinning, chocolate butter smeared all over his cheek. "You're home!"

I hugged him tight, breathing in his little-boy smell, sugar and sweat and something indefinably him.

"Why are you home early?" I asked.

"Half-day. Teacher training." He pulled away, bouncing on his toes. "And look what came!"

He dragged me to the dining room table.

A hamper sat there. Enormous. Wrapped in cellophane and tied with a gold bow. Inside: champagne, chocolates, imported cheeses, caviar. The kind of gift basket that costs more than most people's monthly rent.

"It's from my school!" Jaden said proudly.

I found the card nestled among the goodies.

Thick cardstock. Gold embossed lettering.

Mr. and Mrs. Banks,

You are cordially invited to the Whitmore Academy Founders' Ball

Friday, 7:00 PM

Black Tie

In recognition of your extraordinary generosity and commitment to excellence in education, we are honored to name you Benefactors of the Year.

With gratitude,

Dr. Vivian Chen, Principal

My hands shook as I set down the card.

The Founders' Ball. In three days.

The same timeline as Oliver's deadline.

This wasn't a coincidence.

"Mummy what is it?" Jaden asked.

" It's an invitation to your school event hosted for the most elite.

"Can I come?" He asked

I laughed so freely that tears streaked a little from my eyes. " But you're not a parent Jaden it's just for parents"

"Then I'll play the parent while you and mummy will be my kids"

I laughed again, almost falling over. "Alright darling you can come too"

He jumped in excitement as he disappeared quickly back into the dinning. Looking at him run, I knew I could not let myself get swallowed up by my misery, I had to be strong for him.

I stood alone in the dining room, staring at the hamper.

Dr. Vivian Chen. The woman who'd given me the flash drive. Who'd told me Jimmy was being blackmailed.

What game was she playing?

My phone buzzed. A text from a number I hadn't seen in months.

Sandra! I'm finally back in the country! Lunch this week? I've missed you so much, love–Juanita.

Juanita. My best friend. The one I'd pushed away after the scandal first began to create a buzz all over the internet. We had a little fight just before she travelled for a tour.

I stared at the message, emotions warring.

Part of me wanted to ignore it. To keep everyone at arm's length until this nightmare was over.

But another part, the part that was tired of being alone, wanted to say yes.

I typed back: Yes, When?

Her response came immediately.

Tomorrow at 1 PM, The usual place?

I'll be there.

I set down my phone and looked at the invitation again. The gold lettering. The formal script. The weight of expectation.

In three days, everything would come to a head.

And I still didn't know whose side anyone was on.

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