The CEO’s Masked Secret Wife

Sterling's POV

I reached out to the secretary and suggested we meet over lunch at a small cafe just blocks from the medical clinic. When Damian and I walked in, she had already claimed a corner table in the back section.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sterling. Mr. Knight. How are you both doing?" Her greeting carried a stiff, professional tone.

"Hold on, you actually know who I am?" Damian's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I pick up weekend shifts at the Community Guild casino." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "You two are among our most generous tippers. I'm Monica."

"Holy hell, that's right! I definitely tried asking you out that one time..." Damian's recognition dawned with a hearty laugh. "But damn, without all that club makeup and with your hair pulled back like that, plus those glasses, you're like a completely different person."

"Yes, I know." Monica shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Thank you for reaching out to me, Mr. Sterling."

"Listen, Monica, I'll be honest here. When you slipped me your number, I figured you were making a move on me. But now I'm genuinely intrigued." I settled into my chair across from her.

"Mr. Sterling, I only work at that clinic because I desperately need the paycheck, but I have to tell you, Dr. Evan is a man completely without moral boundaries, and what they're pulling on you is absolutely ridiculous. Plus, everyone at the Community Guild has witnessed how much you can't stand Clairemont. Nobody can stand her, if we're being real." Monica's words sent Damian into another fit of laughter.

"What exactly are they pulling, Monica?" I leaned forward.

"Your fiancee isn't carrying a baby. That entire clinic visit was nothing but theater. The doctor played you an ultrasound recording from a different woman entirely. His plan was to keep up this charade through every single appointment until after your wedding, then Clairemont would stage a convenient miscarriage." Monica laid out the entire scheme.

"Emmanuel, this nightmare just keeps getting deeper." I pressed my palms against my closed eyelids.

"There's more you need to know. Your secretary Bianca was the one who connected Clairemont with this doctor." Monica clearly had access to everything. "I was there the day before your appointment and overheard all three of them planning it out. That man is a complete fraud, and I have no idea how he still has a medical license."

"He won't have one much longer, I can promise you that, Monica." My voice carried steel.

"Mr. Sterling, there's one more piece. You know Rosa, who works the front desk at the Community Guild?" Monica continued.

"Yeah, what about Rosa?"

"She mentioned that Rosa from your HR department is tight with Bianca and feeds her information constantly. The moment you walk through those club doors, she's on the phone alerting Bianca to your presence."

"So that explains how they always know my movements..." Damian muttered.

"Rosa also caught part of a conversation where Bianca was bragging about having informants planted everywhere you go, every business connection your company maintains. She claims to know details about your most private affairs."

"How could I have been so blind!" The room seemed to spin as these revelations crashed over me.

We continued talking for another twenty minutes, and before parting ways, I handed Monica my business card with an offer to discuss employment opportunities. She had refused any monetary compensation for the intelligence, so this felt like the minimum I could offer. Having people I could actually trust working for me had become priority number one.

Stepping out of that cafe, my hands were practically twitching with the urge to wrap them around Clairemont and Bianca's throats. That's when Owen's call came through, informing me he had tracked down the waiter and developed a strategy to confront him. We raced back to the office immediately.

Owen had already prepared our ambush in the main conference room. He contacted the catering company, gathered background information on the waiter who turned out to be relatively new, then placed an order for coffee service with a specific request for that same server. When the appointed time arrived, everything was in position. Owen, Damian, and I positioned ourselves in the conference room, and the moment the waiter entered with his service cart, we had him trapped.

"Take a seat, buddy. We've got some things to discuss," Damian's hand landed firmly on the waiter's shoulder, guiding him into a chair.

"Clayton, you worked one of our events here roughly three months back. How did that go for you?" Owen opened with false pleasantries while making it clear we had information.

"It was an excellent event, sir," the waiter responded carefully.

"Not excellent for everyone involved," I interjected. "But I definitely remember you." His eyes went wide with alarm. "You brought me whiskey out on the balcony, except it wasn't just whiskey, was it, Clayton?"

"I... I... um... I have no idea what you mean," he attempted to deflect.

"Oh, but you absolutely do," Damian stated firmly. "And even if your memory's foggy, my friend, we've got it all on video." Damian grabbed the remote and hit play, displaying the exact balcony footage showing the waiter handing me the glass. "Corporate headquarters, surveillance cameras in every corner. The equipment we use captures crystal clear footage," Damian explained with satisfaction.

"B-b-but... I never... I..." He was stammering and perspiration had started beading on his forehead.

"Clayton, let me make this simple for you," I cut off his stalling tactics. "I had comprehensive toxicology screening done. I have video evidence of you serving me that drink followed by footage of me stumbling off that balcony completely disoriented. So you can either tell us every detail of what happened, or I make a phone call and you walk out of here in handcuffs on drug trafficking charges. Your decision."

"Please don't involve the police, I'll tell you everything," his resistance crumbled instantly. This was easier than anticipated. "I was between jobs and I've got a kid who depends on me. Someone I knew helped me get this catering position. I swear to you, sir, I really needed that work," his nervousness was evident. "I wasn't even scheduled for your party, it was supposed to be my day off, but she specifically requested me for the team, convinced my supervisor to bring me in, even arranged extra pay for me to show up. When you stepped onto the balcony, she called me over and instructed me to deliver that glass. I give you my word, sir, I had no knowledge it was drugged, I swear on my child's life. She was someone I trusted, she had gotten me employment, she worked directly for you, I never imagined she would orchestrate something this evil."

"You had no idea what was in that glass?" Owen pressed.

"She claimed it was just whiskey, and that's exactly what it smelled like. So I served it as requested. But then I watched how you left that balcony, sir, and I knew you weren't intoxicated because I had been serving you drinks all evening and you were completely fine before that particular glass." Clayton had tears streaming down his face. "When I saw you struggling to walk straight, I tried to get closer to help, but she blocked me. She insisted your girlfriend would handle taking care of you. After the party ended, I tracked her down and demanded answers because I knew something terrible had happened."

"What was her response?" I demanded.

"She threatened me to keep quiet if I wanted to keep my job." Clayton revealed he had been under blackmail.

"How incredibly low can someone sink!" I dragged my hands down my face in disgust.

"Who was this woman, son?" Owen asked with growing impatience.

"Bianca," Clayton answered.

"Absolutely perfect! She's a venomous snake." My anger was building toward explosion.

"Alright, Clayton. We appreciate your honesty with us. We'll put in a good word with the catering company owner to ensure you keep your position, and we'll make it clear that Bianca no longer has any association with our organization," Owen offered reassurance. "Take my card and reach out if you need any assistance."

"That's everything? You won't be calling the police?" Clayton looked stunned by the relief.

"No police involvement. That's all we needed. You can complete your shift today without any concerns. Everything is settled," Damian confirmed.

"Thank you, Clayton," I expressed my gratitude as we exited the conference room.