The Billionaire Soldier's Revenge

Chapter 5: Family Matters.

Manhattan traffic was hell. By the time James' car pulled into the driveway of his mansion, the reality of his death had almost paralysed him.

It seemed there was nothing about his personal life that he didn't regret. From the ignored family meetings, his daughter Linda's forgotten concerts, and the piled-up books written by his son Arthur which he never read.

The only good thing his mind could pick up was that he bought them trust funds worth millions. But that didn't mean much when he was wrestling with lost time and affection.

He walked into the mansion and headed straight for the master bedroom. For the first time in a long time, the building felt lifeless and empty.

Freya was supposed to be in that room where he left her, down with a fever. Too sick to even think of spending a hot afternoon with another man.

With part of him believing he might catch her in the act, he swung the door open without knocking as usual. But there she was, propped against the pillows with her hair messed in the way he once loved.

Prescription pills were scattered on the nightstand next to the crystal water glass. She looked beautiful as she always did with no makeup, and much better than she did when he left this morning.

"I was worried about you," he said before sitting on the edge of the bed. He placed his hand on her leg, and she didn't pull away.

"How are you feeling?" Something felt different about him today. He wasn't as assertive and dismissive as he'd always been. He was gentle but not soft, which was strange.

She enjoyed having this long-lost touchy side of her husband. He hadn't been this affectionate towards her since both their accounts hit nine figures.

That meant acting too sweet now in response would blow her cover. So she redirected the question back at him.

"How are you feeling?" she said in her usual tone, cold and calculating as she slowly folded her arms.

"What's the problem now?" The look of compassion quickly faded from his face.

"You are right, there is something we need to talk about." She nodded in agreement even though her heart was sinking fast.

"Thanks to the medicine, my head is clear enough for serious talk. So again, what's the problem this time?"

He answered with a question that hit her like a sledgehammer. "When did you last see Charlie Harrison?"

To his surprise, she gave him the straight answer with no hesitation. "Today, actually."

Thankfully, she had rehearsed all the right answers on her way back from Charlie's apartment.

"You look surprised," she said with a quick shrug like it meant nothing. "I was craving vintage champagne and organic strawberries."

"You know how I get at times, especially when I'm sick. Charlie was the only person who would be able to drop all he was doing to help."

"I told him to leave it with your secretary so she would give it to you." Then she tilted her head.

"You did bring them back, right?" He pressed his palm to his forehead.

"Freya, you are sick. Why would you want expensive champagne right now? Aren't you ever concerned about your health?"

She did everything she could not to laugh. She noticed her rich husband was hiding terminal cancer from his wife and yet was lecturing her about health.

"Well, I still have my tastes," she said with a small smile. "But it's a shame, though. I thought you'd bring strawberries."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's sad," he said in a tone that no longer had the sympathy he came into the room with.

"But it's funny because according to Charlie's work schedule, he also took a sick day off today, the same way you did. What are the odds of that coincidence?"

Now she flared up, no longer trying to be playful. "What are you trying to say? Spit it out like a man."

He smiled as he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before looking back at her.

"I'm dying, Freya," he said. "And I came home early thinking that you were the one person who could handle this with me. Maybe I was wrong about that as well."

Charlie was right, his sources were on the spot. But hearing it from her husband made her terrified. She had never seen him so broken before.

As she reached out her trembling arms to comfort him, they both heard the calls of one of their children. "Dad?"

It was Arthur's voice coming from the hallway sounding bright and hopeful.

"I'll be with you in a minute, son," he said.

"He's excited to see you're back home," she said as she squeezed his hand. "Normally, he'd be on his own, locked up in his room with his books."

He nodded as he stared at the door, ready to leave. "I just wish Linda felt the same way."

As he was about to go, something didn't sit right with her. Perhaps it was the fact that this might be their last real conversation before she becomes a widow.

"James!" she called out in a way that made him think for a second she was having a panic attack.

"Since I'm feeling better, why don't we go out tonight. Just the two of us. It doesn't have to be anywhere fancy."

"The ranch house will be fine. Just like old times. Let Linda be herself and let Arthur take care of his own."

He looked surprised. "I thought you hated going there."

She smiled. "I still do, but you love the place. So I'll do it for you tonight."

"We'll cook a meal together and clear the air between both of us. No more secrets and interruptions from work. What do you say, Mr. Ronald?"

He took a deep breath before answering. "Sure thing, Mrs. Ronald. But when we talk tonight, I'll need you to be completely honest with me, Freya. About everything."

She nodded with a painful smile. "Yes, James," she said. The lie quickly tied a knot in her stomach that would never unwind for a long time.

Then he went to find Arthur. As he did, she looked at the bag she came back home with.

Inside the designer purse was the poison given to her by Charlie earlier today. She had made her choice in that hotel room, and one intimate night with her husband wouldn't be enough to change that.

After tonight, she would be finally free to be with Charlie. And Greenville Industries would be hers.