The Twisted Obsession
Chapter 135: Mourning

Chapter 135: Mourning

His door opened to reveal another woman between her husband’s legs in the office. The woman gasped in shock at the intrusion.

Mrs. Harrison stood at the threshold, her expression serene despite the unexpected scene before her. She arched an eyebrow, her gaze shifting from her husband to the woman who now stood frozen in embarrassment.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise," she remarked casually, as if stumbling upon such situations was an everyday occurrence for her. She maintained an air of nonchalance, refusing to let any hint of shock or anger surface.

Mr. Harrison, oblivious to his wife’s presence, finally looked up from his desk, his expression registering confusion before recognition dawned. He scrambled to sit up, attempting to compose himself, but Mrs. Harrison’s demeanor remained unchanged.

"Ah, my dear," Mr. Harrison began, his voice faltering as he searched for an explanation that would satisfy his wife’s inevitable questions.

Mrs. Harrison simply waved a dismissive hand. "No need for explanations, darling," she said, her tone light and unfazed. "I must say, though, this is quite an interesting choice for a midday rendezvous."

The other woman, now red-faced and mortified, mumbled an apology and hastily retreated from the room, leaving the Harrisons alone in their awkward tableau.

Mrs. Harrison maintained her composed demeanor, her expression betraying none of the turmoil swirling beneath the surface. As she watched the other woman scurry out of the room, she turned her attention back to her husband, her gaze unwavering

Mr. Harrison cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but his wife’s calm demeanor only served to unsettle him further.

"Are you not angry, my dear?" he ventured cautiously, expecting a torrent of indignation.

Mrs. Harrison merely smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Angry? Oh, not in the slightest, my dear. After all, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?"

For Mrs. Harrison, this unexpected interruption was just another minor blip in the ever-unfolding tapestry of her life. She had seen far stranger things in her years of marriage, and this particular incident was hardly enough to ruffle her feathers.

Mrs. Harrison strode over to the table and tossed a newspaper onto its surface. Mr. Harrison, still reeling from the unexpected interruption, raised an eyebrow as he picked up the paper.

"The death of Charles Falcone?" His voice betrayed his disbelief as he scanned the headline. "Who will take over his empire?"

Mrs. Harrison watched as shock washed over her husband’s features, a mixture of surprise and calculation dancing in his eyes. It was a rare sight to witness Mr. Harrison caught off guard, and she couldn’t help but savor the moment, knowing that the news would undoubtedly send ripples through their world of power and influence.

"The poison wasn’t supposed to kill him yet, at least not until I had his signature on the damn forged documents!" Mr. Harrison exclaimed, his frustration evident in his tone. His wife sank into a chair and crossed her legs, her mind racing to make sense of the unexpected turn of events.

"Didn’t his daughter take him out of the hospital?" she continued, her voice tinged with incredulity. "You didn’t kill him?"

Mr. Harrison, still processing the shocking news of Charles Falcone’s demise, shook his head slowly. "No, I didn’t," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of confusion. "But if I didn’t orchestrate his demise, then who did?"

The realization began to dawn on both of them simultaneously—their meticulously laid plans had been upended by an unforeseen force, and now they were left scrambling to salvage what remained of their carefully constructed web of deceit and ambition.

"So now what?" Mrs. Harrison asked her husband, her voice edged with urgency. They hadn’t anticipated that Charles Falcone would die so soon, throwing their plans into disarray. They couldn’t find his lawyer until now that he had announced his demise, and they had no control over Abby—Charles’ daughter. The realization of their precarious situation loomed large, casting a shadow over their ambitions.

Mr. Harrison leaned back in his chair, his mind racing to devise a new strategy. "We need to act fast," he replied, his tone firm and decisive. "We may not have anticipated this turn of events, but we can’t afford to let it derail our plans."

Mrs. Harrison nodded, her expression determined. "But how do we proceed?" she pressed, her mind already searching for a solution.

"We’ll need to leverage whatever resources we have," Mr. Harrison explained, his gaze steely as he contemplated their next move. "We’ll reach out to our contacts, sow seeds of doubt among Falcone’s inner circle, and exploit any weaknesses we can find."

As they delved deeper into their discussion, the Harrisons knew that their path forward would be fraught with obstacles and uncertainties. But with their shared ambition and cunning, they were determined to seize control of Falcone’s empire, no matter the cost

"Abby is still young and naive," Mr. Harrison remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. "The board of directors wouldn’t vote her in as the CEO. I have most of them in my palms. Even though her father was the CEO and it’s a family empire, it doesn’t mean she can take over. The board has to vote her in. We need to make sure she’s not voted into power no matter what."

Mrs. Harrison nodded in agreement, her own expression shrewd as she considered their next steps. "Agreed. We’ll use every means at our disposal to ensure Abby’s ascent is thwarted," she affirmed, her mind already calculating the various tactics they could employ to manipulate the board’s decision.

"And as for your best friend’s death," she continued, her tone taking on a somber note, "we’ll need to show the world that you’re mourning. It’s essential that we maintain appearances, even in the midst of our scheming."

Mr. Harrison’s smirk widened at the mention of his supposed grief, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Of course," he replied smoothly. "We’ll orchestrate a spectacle of mourning that will leave no doubt in anyone’s mind of my supposed loss."