Waiting for the Devil to Grow A Mothers Decade Long Pursuit of Justice

My five-year marriage to Dallas Fischer, a tech billionaire, was a blur of high-society parties and fake smiles, until the fifth year ended with the death of our first child.

The official story was a miscarriage, a tragedy, but then I overheard Dallas confessing to his mistress, Alanna, that he had paid a doctor to induce an abortion and dispose of our son's ashes.

He revealed his plan to humiliate me by leaking an intimate video on our anniversary, claiming I was responsible for his ex-fiancée Hannah's suicide five years ago. He had orchestrated our entire relationship as an elaborate revenge plot.

My world shattered. The man I loved, the life we built, was a lie. He hated me, had murdered our child, and was now going to destroy me.

But I wouldn't let him. The game had just begun.

Chapter 1

The first year of my marriage to Dallas Fischer was a blur of high-society parties and fake smiles. The fifth year ended with the death of our first child.

The official story was a miscarriage. A tragedy. Dallas, the grieving tech billionaire, retreated to a private wellness center in the mountains, a place of silent monks and serene contemplation, to mourn. He told me he needed to pray for our son' s soul.

I believed him. For five years, I had believed every word he said.

He' d been gone for a week, and the silence in our New York penthouse was a crushing weight. I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed to be with him, to share our grief, to hold his hand while he prayed.

So I drove the three hours upstate, the winding mountain roads a blur through my tear-filled eyes. I didn' t call ahead. I wanted to surprise him, to show him we were in this together.

The wellness center was a collection of minimalist wooden buildings nestled among tall pines. It was quiet, almost holy. I found the small, private cabin assigned to Dallas at the edge of the property, overlooking a steep cliff. The door was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open gently, expecting to find him kneeling in prayer.

Instead, I saw a woman. She was on her knees on the floor, her back to me. A man stood over her. I couldn't see his face, but his hand was tangled in her long, dark hair.

My first thought was that I had the wrong cabin. I started to back away, embarrassed. These people were in a private moment.

Then I heard the man' s voice. It was a low, familiar rumble that had once been my comfort.

"Is that enough for you, Alanna?"

My heart stopped. Dallas. It was Dallas.

The woman, Alanna, tilted her head back, and my breath caught in my throat. She looked just like Hannah Bradley. Exactly like her. The same dark hair, the same serene face that had graced the covers of wellness magazines. Hannah, Dallas' s ex-fiancée. The one who killed herself five years ago.

"Dallas, what you' re planning… it' s cruel," Alanna whispered, her voice trembling. "Leaking that video of her on your anniversary? Won't you face any consequences for destroying her like that?"

Dallas laughed, a cold, sharp sound that was nothing like the laugh I knew. He tightened his grip on her hair, forcing a gasp from her.

"Consequences?" he said. "Autumn Villarreal deserves everything she gets. She deserves to be humiliated in front of the entire world."

He let go of her hair and she slumped to the floor. He spoke again, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.