Too late, ex wife. From Janitor to Tycoon

Chapter Three

The commotion had drawn Vanessa’s attention instantly. She was still sitting with Lisa outside her office, scrolling through her phone, when a familiar voice—strained, frantic—cut through the hum of the building’s background chatter.

“Isn’t that… your mum’s voice?” Lisa asked, her brows knitting together in concern.

Vanessa froze, her fingers hovering over her keyboard. “Yeah… but what would she be doing here?” she murmured, a flicker of unease crossing her face. Her heart gave an involuntary lurch. Her mother didn’t just show up unannounced, not here, not in her professional space.

Before she could voice another thought, Veronica emerged into view, groaning, her body sagging as though she’d been crushed under some invisible weight. She moved slowly, each step heavy, her hands clutching at her chest as if to hold herself together. The sound of her lamenting cut sharply through the hallway, twisting Vanessa’s stomach into knots.

Vanessa sprang to her feet, her patience fraying almost instantly. “Mum, what is all this noise about? This is a workplace. Please… quit the drama!” Her words were sharp, bordering on harsh, but she could hear the tremor in her own voice, betraying the panic that gnawed beneath her controlled exterior.

“Drama?” Veronica’s voice cracked, trembling unnaturally. “Vanessa… can’t you see I am hurt?” She sank to her knees, gripping at the marble floor as though it could support her unraveling self. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears—or were they tears at all? Vanessa couldn’t tell.

Vanessa’s expression shifted from irritation to horror. “Hurt? What happened to you? Let me see! Now!” She reached for her mother instinctively, ignoring the professional environment. “And you too, Elena. Tell me, what happened?”

Elena, who had remained unnervingly quiet since the first cries of her mother, straightened. Her gaze was hard, cold, and razor-sharp, the kind of gaze that made even Vanessa pause in slight apprehension. There was no overt panic in her expression, but a simmering fire danced behind her eyes, contained but palpable.

Lisa stepped closer, urgency in her movements. “Should we call a doctor?”

“Yes! Call the hospital immediately, Lisa!” Vanessa barked, her voice tense, every syllable tinged with panic. She could feel her heartbeat hammering against her ribs, her hands trembling slightly as she turned back to her mother.

“Who did this? Who hurt you? Does that person know they’re about to ruin the rest of their life?” Vanessa’s voice rose, more accusatory than she had intended.

Veronica sniffed loudly, and a theatrical sob escaped her lips. “Isn’t it that loser of an ex-husband? He hurt me… and your sister. Can you imagine such cruelty?”

Vanessa blinked, confusion warring with disbelief. “Wait… you mean Sam did this?”

“Yes,” Elena said firmly, her tone clipped, sharp as glass.

Vanessa’s brow furrowed. A laugh escaped her lips, shaky at first, then sharper, more incredulous. “Wait… you know Sam. You’ve met him countless times. You’d recognize him, right?”

Veronica, Elena, and Lisa all stared at her, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief.

“Vanessa… we know your husband,” Elena said carefully, her voice layered with cold reasoning. “Why are you asking us silly questions?”

“I… I don’t know,” Vanessa murmured, sinking back into her chair. “But Sam… he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Oh, so you’re defending that idiot over your own mother?” Veronica snapped, a sharpness in her voice that made Vanessa flinch.

“I’m not defending anyone,” Vanessa said, trying to keep her voice calm, though her thoughts churned with doubt. Could she have been wrong about Sam? Could Sam have hidden a darker side?

Lisa’s voice interrupted, practical and brisk. “The ambulance is on its way, ma’am.” She had already dialed, her fingers moving with precision and speed.

For a moment, the hallway fell into an uneasy silence. The echoes of Veronica’s groans lingered in the air, clashing with Vanessa’s racing heartbeat.

Then Elena laughed. The sound was low, sharp, almost cruel—a slicing edge that cut through Vanessa’s tension like a knife.

Vanessa’s frown deepened. “What’s so funny?” she demanded, her voice tight.

Elena slowly wiped her cheeks, her movements deliberate, calculated, revealing both the remnants of tears and the controlled fire beneath. She stared directly at Vanessa, her gaze icy. “You really think your precious ex-husband is innocent?” she asked, her voice cutting through the space between them.

Vanessa’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, a defensive shield against the sudden chill of doubt that crept up her spine. “I know Sam,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor of uncertainty. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh really?” Elena replied, a bitter smile curling at her lips. She reached into her bag with an almost ritualistic slowness and pulled out her phone.

Vanessa’s heart skipped. Her brows knitted tightly. “Elena… what is that?” she asked, unease creeping in like a shadow at dusk.

“You keep defending him,” Elena said, voice low, icy, deadly in its calm. “Maybe it’s time you heard what he really said to us.”

The screen glowed in Elena’s hand, and with a single tap, the recording began.

Sam’s voice, unmistakable and raw, echoed through the hallway.

“I told you both to stay away from me!”

Vanessa stiffened, every muscle in her body locking as shock rippled through her like electricity. The voice was him—she could recognize it anywhere—but the tone was harsher, more threatening than she had ever heard.

The recording continued, chilling and deliberate.

“If you push me again, you won’t like what happens next!”

Veronica’s dramatic sobs returned, louder now, piercing Vanessa’s ears. “You hear that? He threatened us before attacking!”

Vanessa stared at the phone as if it held some sort of cruel magic. Her mind reeled. Every memory, every interaction she had with Sam, suddenly seemed filtered through a lens of doubt, fear, and disbelief.

“No…” she whispered, almost inaudibly. “This… this doesn’t sound like him…”

Elena stepped closer, her presence a wall of cold authority. Vanessa could feel the weight of her sister’s anger pressing against her chest, suffocating in its intensity. “Keep defending him if you want,” Elena said softly, yet each word struck like a hammer. “But the truth is… your ex-husband is far more dangerous than you think.”

Vanessa sank slowly into the chair, the air around her thick and suffocating.

A bead of sweat traced down her temple, and she wiped it away with a shaking hand. The hallway felt smaller, the walls closing in as if they, too, knew the truth that she had refused to see.